Filling the California Ninth Circuit Vacancies

From Volume 92, Postscript (March 2018)
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FILLING THE CALIFORNIA NINTH CIRCUIT VACANCIES

Carl Tobias[*]

INTRODUCTION

At President Donald Trump’s inauguration, the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit faced ample vacancies that the United States Courts’ Administrative Office labeled “judicial emergencies” because of their protracted length and its huge caseload. Recent departures by Circuit Judge Stephen Reinhardt and former Chief Judge Alex Kozinski, who occupied California posts, and other jurists’ decision to change their active status mean that the circuit has five emergencies, three in California, because Trump has appointed only three nominees. The court also resolves the most filings least expeditiously.

Limited clarity about whether more judges will leave active service over Trump’s presidency suggests that additional confirmations may be necessary; however, the selection process’s stunning politicization will compromise this initiative. For example, when the tribunal enjoined Trump’s controversial determinations which excluded immigrants from seven predominately Muslim nations, he excoriated multiple jurists of the circuit. Trump afforded numerous candidates, but merely three have received approval, partly because home state Democratic politicians retained “blue slips” when the White House minimally consulted. The vacancieswhich exceed seventeen percent, and three California openings, which are tenshow the crucial need to fill more vacancies.

This piece first analyzes the vacancy conundrum’s history. It evaluates selection throughout the presidencies of Barack Obama and Trump, while scrutinizing California’s pressing situation. Ascertaining that the predicament comes from reduced Democratic and Republican cooperation and some jurists’ departures, this Article reviews that complication’s impacts and detects that systematic partisanship has subverted confirmations, attributes which Trump could exacerbate. Because the plentiful vacancies injure myriad litigants by eroding judicial resources to decide lawsuits, the final Part proffers solutions for the President and the Senate to promptly fill the California openings.

I. Modern Selection Difficulties

The history warrants little treatment here, as others have canvassed the background,[1] and the current standoff enjoys greatest relevance. One aspect is the permanent difficulty that results from enhanced federal jurisdiction, cases and judges.[2] Significant now is the modern concern, which is political and emanates from contrasting Senate and presidential control that started four decades ago.[3] Both constituents have affected California. For instance, rampant population growth driven by rising financial expansion and immigration enlarged district cases with related appeals; thus, circuit seats increased to twenty-eight in 1984.[4] Mounting partisanship also undermined confirmations by slowing and halting nominees.[5] However, certain phenomena tempered appointments problems. Over most of the Ninth Circuit’s 128 years, it faced nominal difficulties. The judicial complement was extremely small, openings were rare, and the chamber easily filled many positions. Indeed, until 1968, the tribunal performed efficaciously with merely nine members.

A 1978 statute authorized manifold posts, while President Jimmy Carter had success, primarily because Democrats held the upper chamber, so President Ronald Reagan had no vacancy upon election.[6] He quickly confirmed jurists, although five positions were created, as the GOP had the chamber Reagan’s initial six years and once Democrats became the majority they coordinated.[7] Senator Joe Biden (D-Del.), the able Judiciary Committee Chair, astutely canvassed nominees, and the majority confirmed Justice Anthony Kennedy and six circuit jurists across the U.S.  over 1988, yet three posts, two located in California, were open upon year’s end.[8] Smooth appointments prevailed for most of George H.W. Bush’s time but slowed in 1992, meaning that a California appellate position was empty.[9]

President Bill Clinton appointed a judge for this slot partially because Democrats acquired a majority in his first half term, but Republicans recaptured Senate control during 1995. At various later times, openings reached ten, including three California posts with his tenure’s end.[10] This situation improved over George W. Bush’s presidency, especially when the GOP enjoyed a majority. He approved several jurists primarily by consulting Democrats; yet controversy arose, leaving a sole vacancy at his time’s close.[11]

In short, judicial appointments were mixed, but certain periods allowed relatively successful endeavors. Illustrations were Bush père and son; yet circumstances gradually deteriorated after United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit Judge Robert Bork’s confirmation fight for the Supreme Court until 2009 when they markedly declined.[12]

II. Obama Administration Selection

The practices worked rather effectively across Obama’s initial six years when Democrats had a chamber majority. He actively consulted home state Republicans, seeking, and normally following, proposals of capable, mainstream nominees.[13] Those initiatives encouraged cooperation in the early Obama era because senators received deference, as they may slow the process through keeping blue slips, which the Senate respected in Obama’s tenure.[14] Even with Obama’s assertive pleading, some did not coordinate by forwarding accomplished prospects.[15]

The GOP collaborated with regular hearings but “held over” discussions and votes a week for all except one circuit nominee.[16] Republicans slowly allowed chamber debates, if required, and ballots, forcing strong centrists to languish months until Democrats pursued cloture.[17] The GOP also sought plenty of roll call votes and debate hours on capable, moderate aspirants, who felicitously captured approval, thus consuming rare floor time.[18] This left some Ninth Circuit vacancies across Obama’s initial half decade; yet he appointed several preeminent, consensus, diverse judges the first three years.[19]

In the 2012 presidential election year, Republicans coordinated less.[20] Delay increased, while appellate confirmations ended in June.[21] Upon Obama’s reelection, Democrats hoped for improved collaboration, but recalcitrance expanded in 2013 when he proffered three fine, mainstream, diverse nominees for the D.C. Circuit, the nation’s second most important tribunal.[22] Republicans provided them no Senate ballots, and protracted obstruction made Democrats unleash the “nuclear option” which confined filibusters, allowing the Ninth Circuit to have every seat filled at 2014’s conclusion.[23]

The following year, once Republicans held a Senate majority,[24] already negligible cooperation decreased. GOP leaders promised to reinstitute “regular order,” the approach which governed before Democrats ostensibly eroded this. In January, Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), the new Majority Leader, stated, we must “return to regular order.”[25] Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa), the Judiciary Chair, pledged that he would similarly assess prospects.[26] Despite incessant vows, Republicans slowly offered Obama picks hearings and committee votes and chamber debates and ballots. With 2015’s close, these phenomena meant that eight appellate emergencies lacked nominees for states which GOP senators represented, and California had one, when Harry Pregerson took senior status that December.[27]

In Obama’s last half term, the chamber promptly approved Kara Farnandez Stoll, an expert, moderate lawyer, but slowly confirmed District Judge Felipe Restrepo, a prominent centrist, to the Federal and Third Circuits.[28] Appointing so few jurists over two years was nearly unprecedented.[29] In 2016a presidential election year when circuit approvals conventionally halt earlyGOP denial of review to Judge Merrick Garland, Obama’s exceptional Supreme Court nominee,[30] intensified these attributes. Despite the tradition ensuring that preeminent, mainstream nominees receive floor ballots after May, this did not materialize.[31] Obama nominated seven well qualified, moderate candidatesincluding District Judge Lucy Koh for the California openingyet none realized appointment.[32]

Judge Koh merits emphasis because she possesses superb abilities, deserved prior confirmation, and warrants Ninth Circuit renomination, and California Democratic Senators Dianne Feinstein and Kamala Harris powerfully favor her elevation.[33] The judge is distinctly qualified.[34] She was the initial Asian American on the Northern District of California [35] and has carefully resolved major litigation, including her effective disposition of Apple’s patent infringement case against Samsung.[36] The nominee earned a wellqualified rating from a substantial majority of the American Bar Association (ABA) evaluation committee.[37]

Accordingly, Koh was a dynamic pick who merited appointment, while she resembles many fine Obama confirmees who afford benefits. Circuits with all their jurists can rapidly, economically, and fairly treat huge caseloads.[38] Increased ethnic, gender, and sexual orientation diversity improves comprehension and resolution of critical questions which tribunals decide.[39] Minority judges also curtail prejudices that undermine justice, and they instill public confidence.[40]

Selection and election year politics should not have undercut Koh’s review. Koh is a district jurist, which speeds the process; her ABA and FBI analyses only required updating; she was confirmed once and compiled a long, accessible record.[41] The panel fully investigated her by cooperating with the ABA, FBI, and Department of Justice (DOJ).[42] The Chair only set a hearing five months after nomination, although the Ninth Circuit required all posts filled.[43] Feinstein and Barbara Boxer (D-Cal.) introduced Koh, praising her as the classic “American success story.”[44] Members robustly queried the nominee who duly responded.[45] Koh appeared to satisfy most. A few next posited written questions that she promptly answered.[46] Grassley convened a September panel debate [47] where the members rigorously discussed the nominee.[48] Four Republicans, including Grassley, favored Koh, who earned approval.[49]

Many ideas show why she deserved rapid appointment. The GOP leader had a duty to follow the regular order that he always lauds and distinctly relevant Bush precedent.[50] McConnell had numerous weeks to vote on Koh but refused once Trump captured the presidency.[51] Excellent centrists usually attain final ballots, so her proponents should have pursued cloture and senators who honor custom must have agreed.[52] When Koh reached the floor, the leader ought to have arranged a respectful debate, which robustly canvassed many questions, and a chamber vote. In short, Republican obstruction meant that Koh lacked a final ballot and her nomination expired in early 2017.[53]

III. Trump Administration Selection

A. Nomination Process

Over the campaign, Trump promised to name and seat ideological conservatives and kept the vows by sending and confirming Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh and manifold similar circuit and certain district nominees.[54] He created records for appointing circuit jurists the initial year with a dozen and eighteen the next but has tapped eight Ninth Circuit picks and only three won confirmation.[55]

Trump applies some customs, yet discards, reverses or deemphasizes others. For instance, he, like modern predecessors, assigned lead nomination efforts to the White House Counsel, located related duties in DOJ and stressed circuit openings.[56] When proffering appellate nominees, former White House Counsel McGahn emphasized conservative perspectives and youth. The Counsel relied on litmus tests, including opposition to the administrative state, and proposed aspirants in their forties, while he often used the list of twenty-five potential Supreme Court picks whom the Federalist Society and Heritage Foundation assembled.[57] Those procedures continue applying because the Society’s Executive Vice President, Leonard Leo, advises Trump on selection.[58] The White House stresses the circuits, as they comprise tribunals of last resort for virtually all cases, announce greater policy than district courts  and issue rulings which cover multiple states.[59]

However, Trump omits and downplays myriad traditions. Crucial is failing to assiduously consult home state politicians, an effective convention which Presidents use that is a critical reason for blue slips.[60] Peculiarly relevant are the conflicting approaches deployed when filling two Ninth Circuit vacancies. McGahn suggested, and Trump nominated, Ryan Bounds without consulting Oregon Democratic Senators Ron Wyden and Jeff Merkley or allowing invocation of a bipartisan selection committee, provoking slips’ aggressive retention.[61] In profound contrast, McGahn avidly consulted Hawaii Democratic Senators Mazie Hirono and Brian Schatz prior to sending Mark Bennett, prompting their full support of him and praise for McGahn’s endeavors in a smooth hearing and Bennett’s quick approval.[62]

A related abandonment of efficacious precedent is the ABA’s nearly complete exclusion from judicial selection. All Presidents after Dwight Eisenhower, save George W. Bush, had employed ABA ratings when proposing candidates, and Obama eschewed candidates whom the ABA ranked not qualified.[63] However, Trump nominated six prospects with this rating.[64]

He also deletes or ignores effective tools. One is not prioritizing nominations by initially filling eighty-seven emergency vacancies, which courts ground in their substantial length or caseloads;[65] in fact, these emergency vacancies have multiplied since Republicans won the chamber.[66] Trump as well nominates fewer picks in states which Democrats represent, even though most have plentiful emergencies.[67] California includes three Ninth Circuit emergencies, but Trump only named Patrick Bumatay, Daniel Collins and Kenneth Lee last October, although the senators opposed confirmation, favoring as nominees Collins, James Rogan and Koh; Bumatay, Collins and Lee received no 2018 hearing, saw their nominations expire and received renomination, with Bumatay receiving renomination to the Southern District of California and Daniel Bress receiving nomination to the Ninth Circuit.[68]

Another useful idea, which Trump rejects or deemphasizes, is enhancing minority individuals’ bench representation, particularly vis-à-vis Democrats.[69] For example, he seemingly effectuated no initiatives that suggest and confirm ethnic minority or lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ) prospects by assigning diverse staff to selection or urging that politicians send numerous minorities.[70] Among Trump’s eightynine lower federal court confirmees, only Amul Thapar, James Ho, John Nalbandian, Neomi Rao, Karen Gren Scholer, Jill Otake, Fernando Rodriguez, and Terry Moorer are persons of color, and of 170 nominees, twenty-one are – the initial six confirmed, Bumatay, Lee, and five more constitute Asian Americans, while Rodriguez and two others are Latinos, Moorer and four more comprise African Americans, Bumatay is gay, and Mary Rowland is a lesbian.[71]

McGahn consulted Feinstein and Harris somewhat respecting the three California appellate vacancies. Feinstein has marshaled astute panel service, operating collegially with GOP politicians, especially Grassley, and is now the Ranking Member.[72] For example, she promoted controversial Bush circuit nominees, like Kavanaugh, who secured a panel vote, which should ingratiate her with Republicans, but they demonize Feinstein over his recent promotion.

At Trump’s election and for much of 2017, California had one vacancy; yet the Kozinski and Reinhardt departures left it with three, changing the dynamics.[73] In Trump’s first year, Feinstein held productive selection meetings with Mike Pence and the White House Counsel, Donald McGahn.[74] In August 2017, a source claimed that McGahn had analyzed twenty-five people to fill the California vacancy and offered the senators “possible nominees;[75] while in 2018, outlets said that Feinstein’s panel had reviewed several Trump picks and some candidates whom it first vetted.[76] Despite much press coverage of the two newer California vacancies and speculation proclaiming how Trump might remake the circuit, he named Bumatay, Collins, and Lee in late 2018, notwithstanding the senators’ opposition and concerted efforts to reach a deal by proffering Collins, Rogan, and Koh.[77]

B. Confirmation Process

The appointments process resembled the nomination system’s detrimental features in certain ways by omitting, altering or diluting effective customs or mechanisms. Instructive examples were changing (1) the 100-year-old blue slip procedurewhich denies nominee consideration when politicians retain slipsand (2) valuable committee duties.

In fall 2017, Grassley amended the slip policy for circuit nominees by processing aspirants without two home state politicians’ slips, particularly when senators oppose them for “political or ideological” reasons.[78] This altered the construct which both parties applied during Obama’s years, the most recent similar precedent,[79] especially as the Chair modestly supported placing in himself much discretion to decide if the White House “adequately consulted.”[80] Most pertinent was resolution of the dispute between the executive and the Oregon lawmakers.[81] Grassley had not forced the issue by denying the slips effect. He conferred with the politicians and seemingly recognized that Counsel minimally consulted, because Grassley delayed a hearing while the senators tendered candidates whom their panel suggested but ultimately acceded by convening a hearing.[82] He urged that slips are intended to ensure Presidents consult and protect home state prerogatives in the selection process.[83]

The Chair also changed many panel hearing rules and conventions. Integral was arranging ten sessions for two circuit nominees without the minority’s permission and the Ninth Circuit one during a recess for campaigning; ten hearings acutely contrast to Democratic use of three sessions in Obama’s eight years which the GOP had clearly allowed.[84] Circuit hearings were rushed, and they lacked care for nominees who may be life-tenured appointees on courts of last resort.[85] Some appeared to intentionally stall by reiterating questions, and they evasively answered queries.[86]

Many discussions before panel votes similarly lacked content. Legislators rarely engaged on issues about core judicial qualifications. One pernicious deviation was setting hearings, and even votes, before the ABA finished ratings, despite Feinstein’s importuning to have ballots after rankings’ completion. Grassley strenuously asserted that this exogenous political group must not drive scheduling.[87] It was predictable, therefore, that controversial aspirants would secure party-line votes.[88]

These phenomena did not affect the Hawaii vacancy, as McGahn fully consulted the senators about Bennett which prompted their support and rapid chamber analysis.[89] However, the Chair’s determination to not honor the Wyden and Merkley blue slips meant that he processed Bounds, thus undermining slips’ purpose, although when Senator Tim Scott (R-S.C.) raised concerns over his deleterious writings about diversity and people of color, Trump summarily withdrew Bounds.[90]

After the committee reported nominees, analogous, yet less problematic, dynamics frustrated effective canvasses: Both parties forced cloture and roll call ballots on most nominees; members voted in lockstep; and the nuclear option’s 2013 explosion permitted selections to win confirmation on majority ballots.[91] Problematic was compressing six 2018 appellate nominees’ chamber action into one week;[92] this left the minority with deficient resources for preparing.[93] The quality of Senate debates resembled numerous panel discussions,[94] while many of the thirty hours reserved for debate after cloture examined questions lacking relationships to individual nominees.[95]

The GOP Senate majority, like Trump, prioritized seating appellate, over district, judges, nominees in states with Republican senators, conservative white males, and filling non-emergency openings, ideas which mostly derived from the nomination regime.[96] Those facets allowed Trump to set appellate records yet left twenty-plus 2017 district picks without floor votes, while few realized approval in states with two Democrats, only two minority nominees won confirmation and emergencies soared.[97] McGahn neglected blue state Ninth Circuit vacancies, especially in California. Negligible consultation delayed the Oregon effort, and Trump’s deteriorated relations with Republican Senators John McCain, who died, and Jeff Flake, who eschewed reelection, slowed the Arizona nomination.[98]

IV. Reasons For And Implications Of Problematic Selection

The reasons for selection problems are complex,[99] but some commentators trace the “confirmation wars” to Judge Bork.[100] The process has unraveled, as seen with constant partisanship and striking divisivenessmanifested in slowing Kavanaugh and denying Garland review, exploding nuclear options to confirm Gorsuch and Obama nominees whom Republicans blocked and demanding cloture and roll call votes for most nominees.[101]

The effects are crucial. The 2015 to 2016 inaction and Trump’s deficiencies leave eight circuit, and eightyseven emergency, vacancies, many in the Ninth.[102] Circuits had “few” empty slots at 2014’s close only after Democrats mustered the nuclear option.[103] However, 2015 to 2016 inactivity and judges’ later departures multiplied Ninth Circuit emergencies; California lacked nominees for three until October 2018 while Trump has approved merely three Ninth Circuit jurists.[104] Slow appointments deprive the court of judicial resources to deliver myriad litigants justice.[105] Few circuits address conditions so daunting as the Ninth that resolves immense filings most slowly.[106]

In sum, this canvass elucidates the appellate process’ state, which inattention to California worsened, and the need for speedy action. The Constitution grants the executive and chamber many appointments duties. Clear precedent that supports approvals near a presidency’s institution should govern.[107] The parties, thus, ought to cooperate and fill the California emergencies.

V. Suggestions For Filling The Vacancies

A. General Suggestions

Trump’s major task remains creating an effective government. Confirming Gorsuch and Kavanaugh consumed resources that would have been dedicated to circuits.[108] Trump’s nominal familiarity with judges and selection may explain the California vacancies, but his presidency is rather nascent and ideas may be derived from efforts thus far.[109]

Some behavior inspires little confidence. Trump’s degrading remarks on jurists and their decisions [110] suggest that he confronts more appointments problems than other new executives but may rectify the situation. Because crafting the government and confirming two Justices devoured resources and Trump gave California nominal priority, he must emphasize it.[111]

Trump needed to avidly consult the senators. Cultivation helps in states with two opposition lawmakers, as they could delay processing by retaining slips.[112] The Oregon stalemate manifested the perils of not consulting, while smooth Hawaii approval showed the benefits.[113] Trump ought to have cultivated the Californians, who cooperated and supplied fine, consensus suggestions.[114]

The chief executive should also keep applying earlier Presidents’ salient practices. When appointing circuit judges, one would be nominating federal district judges and state Supreme Court jurists.[115] Related is renominating and easily confirming able, centrist Obama nominees who almost captured appointment, namely Judge Koh.[116] The ideas are constructive, as the chamber has already carefully evaluated and confirmed federal jurists.[117] Many state justices’ activities resemble those of federal circuit judges.[118] Other promising sources are dynamic federal court litigators.[119]

Republican and Democratic Presidents afford White House Counsel abundant responsibility for circuit court nominees.[120] Trump assigns many courts preference yet accorded California little and excluded the ABA.[121] Thus, he should assure California priority, ABA input, and designee canvassing that is more careful. Lawmakers’ sending a few picks and swift, open communications permitted Trump and the senators flexibility. If each persistently rejects all his choices, they should reconcile prolonged differences, as chronic opposition imposes delay, cost and the need to restart consideration.[122]

After nomination, the parties must ensure efficient, intensive and fair confirmation systems. Republicans and Democrats ought to astutely conclude scrutiny by expediting panel, ABA and FBI checks, and nominees should help by fully completing questionnaires.[123] Senators may retain slips, if nominees are unacceptable after they exhaust initiatives to have Trump change aspirants’ path, elements which California senators are pursuing. The core is merit: independence, ethics, intelligence, diligence and temperament.[124] When the White House renominated Collins and Lee and nominated Bress for the Ninth Circuit, the California senators urged Senator Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.), who replaced Grassley as Judiciary Chair, to honor their blue slips.[125] However, Graham stated that “once (Democrats) changed the rules on circuit courtsthey did it, not meto expect that the blue slip system would survive is pretty naïve,” refused to respect the senators blue slips[126]and observed that he was “very supportive of the nominees submitted by President Trump to serve on the Ninth Circuit” because they are “highly qualified nominees.”[127]

Once lawmakers provide slips for qualified nominees, the panel must swiftly convene hearings. Despite when they are fine centrists and nominees’ ABA, FBI, and committee reviews are probing and strong, yielding untroubling conclusions, few members attend sessions that proceed well.[128] Should controversy arise, hearings ought to feature robust, comprehensive and equitable questioning. Senators pose written queries, which nominees carefully answer, while holding meetings to discuss them and vote. If the panel approves, but the majority refuses chamber ballots, designee advocates file cloture that able, mainstream nominees win.[129] The Majority Leader then stages floor debates, which must be complete, rigorous discussions that respect nominees and the process, and conducts fast votes.

B. Specific Vacancies

Trump should have assiduously consulted Feinstein and Harris, who cooperated by proffering multiple able, consensus designees for every opening. The senators asked him to rename Judge Koh, who achieved February 2016 nomination.[130] Promptly filling all vacancies is compelling for myriad litigants, jurists, and California active circuit judge representation.

Trump ought to have assessed renaming Koh,[131] because she deserved a 2016 final vote which GOP obstruction prevented, but Koh would now have to secure only that and a panel ballot. The last idea shows why she merits selection and approval: California needs three jurists, the panel, ABA and FBI recently scrutinized Koh fully and their prior surveys necessitate mere updating. Precedent sustains that effort. Koh warrants no hearing, as Grassley mandated none for the many Obama district nominees Trump renamed, yet members who opposed Koh earlier and newer colleagues might favor a hearing.[132]

California requires each vacancy filled, so the politicians agreed on a few candidates they support, but the President named others, despite the endeavors of the senators, who pointedly retain blue slips. They must keep slips, which the Chair needs to honor. During October, the senators proposed Collins, Rogan, and Koh, who merit Trump’s serious review, as they would promote quick, smooth confirmation, which fills half the circuit vacancies with one nominee he tapped, another on the White House list, who is an experienced jurist, and a third who is on the senators’ list and is a respected federal judge.[133]

Because Trump may reject the senators’ deal and needs multiple nominees, Feinstein and Harris might assemble other prospects. One source is the twenty-plus Obama California district appointeesmost have been superb jurists across years. For instance, Central District Judge Dolly Gee affords ethnic, and rare experiential, diversity, from prodigious work on labor issues.[134] Twenty-one Bush confirmees have served well over more than a decade. For example, Gee’s colleague, Andrew Guilford, would impart expertise from dozens of years being a revered civil litigator and federal jurist.[135]

The California Supreme Court is another possibility. Justices Goodwin Liu and Mariano-Florentino Cuéllar were groundbreaking law faculty, while Justice Leondra Kruger practiced at the U.S. Solicitor General’s Office.[136] Trump could also prefer more conservative aspirants, notably Chief Justice Toni Cantil-Sakauye.[137] Active federal court litigators would be apt sources. For instance, Obama confirmees Paul Watford and Michelle Friedland were excellent attorneys with a respected firm.[138] Counsel whom Trump or Feinstein’s panel assessed were Daniel Bress, Collins, Lee and Jeremy Rosen.[139]

Once the senators concurred, they proposed several strong prospects for each slot to Trump, who should have proffered mutually satisfactory nominees.[140] The many exceptional California attorneys and three vacancies offer much flexibility vis-à-vis ethnic, gender, sexual orientation, ideological and experiential diversity. A finely-calibrated analysis of these diversity facets and other relevant criteria, namely diligence, intelligence and ethics, was merited.

Because Trump and the senators differ, they could use a more dramatic approach: the “bipartisan judiciary,” which a few states’ lawmakers employ.[141] Members of the party lacking executive control suggest a percentage of nominees. Reasoning by analogy, Trump may choose one and the senators can propose a second, while he and they might agree on a third. A related option is “trades.”[142] For example, Trump may nominate one stellar, conservative, young aspirant, the politicians might send Koh and the third nominee would be a Bush district confirmee whom all favor.[143] When he and senators concur, they ought to apply efficient, comprehensive and fair confirmation processes like those reviewed.[144]

Conclusion

The Ninth Circuit addresses least promptly the biggest docket mainly because it confronts five emergencies, three affecting California. If President Trump, Senators Feinstein and Harris, and the chamber robustly adopt the mechanisms scrutinized, they can expeditiously fill these vacancies with able, consensus jurists.

 


[*] *. Williams Chair in Law, University of Richmond School of Law. I wish to thank Margaret Sanner for valuable suggestions, Emily Benedict for valuable research and editing, the Southern California Law Review Postscript editors for valuable suggestions and editing, Leslee Stone and MJ Chinworth for excellent processing as well as Russell Williams and the Hunton Andrews Kurth Summer Research Endowment Fund for generous, continuing support. Remaining errors are mine alone.

 [1]. Miller Ctr. Comm’n No. 7, Report of the Commission on Selecting Federal Judges 3–6 (1996); Gordon Bermant et al., Judicial Vacancies: An Examination of the Problem and Possible Solutions, 14 Miss. C. L. Rev. 319, 320–33 (1994). California has fourteen active Ninth Circuit judgeships.

 [2]. It needs less scrutiny; some delay is intrinsic, resists meaningful change and has been analyzed. Carl Tobias, Combating the Ninth Circuit Judicial Vacancy Crisis, 73 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. Online 687, 689–91 (2017).

 [3]. Some periods, as 2017 to 2018, have one-party control. For fuller treatment, see generally Miller Ctr. Comm’n, supra note 1; Bermant, supra note 1, and Tobias, Combating Ninth Circuit Vacancies, supra note 2.

 [4]. See, e.g., Pub. L. No. 95-486, 92 Stat. 1629 (1978) (increasing the number of circuit and district court judgeships); Pub. L. No. 98-353, 98 Stat. 345 (1984) (same); Pub. L. No. 110-177 §509, 121 Stat. 2534, 2543 (2008) (transferring a D.C. Circuit judgeship to the Ninth Circuit and bringing the Ninth Circuit judgeships to 29).

 [5]. That partisanship was incremental, declining after Judge Robert Bork’s monumental Supreme Court battle. However, even later, some cooperation occurred. See discussion infra notes 79, 12. See generally Charles Geyh, When Courts and Congress Collide: The Struggle for Control of America’s Judicial System (2007) (discussing the relationship between Congress and the federal courts).

 [6]. See U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary: August 1, 1981, at 4 (1981); see also Sheldon Goldman, Picking Federal Judges: Lower Court Selection From Roosevelt Through Reagan 285–345 (1997).

 [7]. See 143 Cong. Rec. S2,541 (daily ed. Mar., 19, 1997) (statement of Sen. Biden); see also Goldman, supra note 6, at 285345. 

 [8]. See U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary (Article III Judges Only): November 1, 1988, at 3 (1988). Bork was an exception to collegial selection.

 [9]. U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary Article III Judges Only): November 1, 1993, at 3 (1993).

 [10]. Clinton’s naming fine centrists and a few GOP senators’ help meant that some states functioned well. See generally U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary Article III Judges Only): November 1, 1995; U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary Article III Judges Only): November 1, 2000.

 [11].  See generally U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary Article III Judges Only): November 1, 2007; U.S. Cts., Vacancies in the Federal Judiciary Article III Judges Only): November 1, 2008 (confirming ten 2007 to 2008 George W. Bush circuit picks); S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Feb. 15, 2018) (evaluating a California-Idaho dispute over which state would fill Judge Stephen Trott’s vacancy).

 [12]. E.g., Mark Gitenstein, Matters of Principle: An Insider’s Account of America’s Rejection of Robert Bork’s Nomination to the Supreme Court 11–12 (1992); Jeffrey Toobin, The Nine: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court 18 n.14 (2007). See generally Geyh, supra note 5.

 [13]. Carl Tobias, Senate Gridlock and Federal Judicial Selection, 88 Notre Dame L. Rev. 2233, 2239–40, 2253 (2013); see also Sheldon Goldman et al., Obama’s First Term Judiciary, 97 Judicature 7, 8–17 (2013).

 [14]. No nominee moved without two slips. Carl Tobias, Senate Blue Slips and Senate Regular Order, Yale L. & Pol’y Rev. Inter Alia (Nov. 20, 2018). But see discussion infra notes 7883 and accompanying text.

 [15]. Some sent none. Goldman et al., supra note 13, at 17; see also 161 Cong. Rec. S6,151 (daily ed. July 30, 2015).

 [16]. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Mar. 22, 2013); see also Tobias, supra note 13, at 2242–43.

 [17]. I depend below on Goldman et al., supra note 13, at 26–29; Tobias, supra note 13, at 2243–46.

 [18]. Tobias, supra note 13, at 2244; see also Juan Williams, The GOP’s Judicial Logjam, Hill (July 27, 2015), https://thehill.com/opinion/juan-williams/249196-juan-williams-the-gops-judicial-logjam.

 [19]. Judicial Vacancy List for December 2009, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2009/12/vacancies/html (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Vacancy List for December 2014, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2014/12/vacancies/html (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); see also 156 Cong. Rec. S4,608 (daily ed. June 7, 2010) (discussing and confirming judicial nominee Lucy Koh); id. at S10,986 (daily ed. Dec. 22, 2010) (discussing and confirming judicial nominee Mary Murguia); 157 Cong. Rec. S8,625 (daily ed. Dec. 15, 2011) (discussing and confirming judicial nominee Morgan Christen).

 [20]. Tobias, supra note 13, at 2246; Russell Wheeler, The ‘Thurmond Rule’ and Other Advice and Consent Myths, Brookings Inst. (May 25, 2016), https://www.brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2016/05/25
/the-thurmond-rule-and-other-advice-and-consent-myths; Michael Shear et al., Obama Pick Opens Court Battle, N.Y. Times, Mar. 17, 2016, at A1; see also S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Mar. 17, 2016) (statement of Sen. Leahy); S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (May. 19, 2016) (statement of Sen. Grassley); Carl Tobias, Confirming Circuit Judges in a Presidential Election Year, 84 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. Arguendo 160, 169 (2016).

 [21]. 158 Cong. Rec. S4,108 (daily ed. June 12, 2012) (elevating Andrew Hurwitz). Jacqueline Nguyen and Paul Watford won 2012 approval to California seats. Id. at S2,931 (daily ed. May 14, 2012); id. at S3,388 (daily ed. May 21, 2012).

 [22]. See generally Carl Tobias, Filling the D.C. Circuit Vacancies, 91 Ind. L.J. 121 (2015) (discussing the filling of three D.C. Circuit vacancies at this time).

 [23]. John Owens and Michelle Friedland won approval to California seats. 160 Cong. Rec. S1,881 (daily ed. Mar. 31, 2014); id. at S2,426 (daily ed. Apr. 28, 2014).

 [24]. Jerry Markon et al., Republicans Win Senate Control as Polls Show Dissatisfaction with Obama, Wash. Post (Nov. 4, 2014), http://wapo.st/1rZ20TB?tid=ss_tw&utm_term=.d7667ffae95a; Jonathan Weisman, G.O.P. Takes Senate, N.Y. Times, Nov. 5, 2014, at A1.

 [25]. He repeats the mantra. 161 Cong. Rec. S27 (daily ed. Jan. 7, 2015); id. at S2,767 (daily ed. May 12, 2015).

 [26]. S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Jan. 21, 2015).

 [27]. They helped little, so Obama sent no 2015 nominee. See Judicial Emergencies for December 2015, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2015/12/emergencies (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Emergencies for December 2016, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies
/2016/12
/emergencies (last visited Feb. 18, 2019).

 [28]. Carl Tobias, Confirming Judge Restrepo to the Third Circuit, 88 Temple L. Rev. Online 37, 38 n.4, 45–46 (2017).

 [29]. Chris Kang, GOP Obstruction Could Be Worst Since the 1800s, Huffington Post (Apr. 20, 2016), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/christopher-kang/republican-obstruction-of_b_9741446.html; see also discussion supra notes 8, 11 and accompanying text.

 [30]. Wheeler, supra note 20; Shear et al., supra note 20, at A1.

 [31]. Tobias, Confirming Circuit Judges in a Presidential Election Year, supra note 20, at 169; see also S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Mar. 17, 2016) (statement of Sen. Leahy); S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (May. 19, 2016) (statement of Sen. Grassley).

 [32]. See generally Carl Tobias, Confirm Judge Koh to the Ninth Circuit, 74 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. 449 (2016); Tobias, supra note 31.

 [33]. Emily Cadei, Dianne Feinstein, Kamala Harris Try to Cut a Deal with Trump, Sacramento Bee (May 22, 2018), https://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert
/article211603954.html; Zoe Tillman, Here’s How Trump Is Trying to Remake His Least Favorite Court, Buzzfeed News (Mar. 15, 2018), https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/zoetillman/heres-who-the-white-house-pitched-for-the-federal-appeals; see also Letter from Sen. Dianne Feinstein to Donald McGahn, White House Counsel (Oct. 5, 2018), https://www.feinstein.senate.gov/public/_cache/files
/d/4/d4757388-8ebc-446c-8283-1719f1054d60/C0422EA4863812AFB2A2BEF78E242426.2018.10.5-df-letter-to-mcgahn-re.-ninth-circuit.pdf.

 [34]. She was a well-respected prosecutor, law firm partner, and Superior Court and Northern District of California judge, earning an excellent reputation since 2010. For these ideas and more, see Tobias, supra note 32, at 450.

 [35]. Bob Egelko, Lucy Koh Nominated for U.S. Court of Appeals in S.F., S.F. Gate (Feb. 25, 2016), https://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Obama-nominates-local-judge-to-federal-appeals-6855113.php; Howard Mintz, San Jose Judge Lucy Koh Nominated to Federal Appeals Court, Mercury News (Feb. 25, 2016), https://www.mercurynews.com/2016/02/25/san-jose-judge-lucy-koh-nominated-to-federal-appeals-court.

 [36]. Apple v. Samsung, No. 11–CV–01846–LHK, 2011 WL 7036077 (N.D. Cal. Dec. 2, 2011); see also In re High-Tech Emp. Antitrust Litig., 856 F. Supp. 2d 1103 (N.D. Cal. 2012) (settling ably 3000 workers’ antitrust claims).

 [37]. See generally ABA Standing Comm. on the Fed. Judiciary, Ratings of Article III and Article IV Judicial Nominees: 114th Congress (2017).

 [38]. 160 Cong. Rec. S5,364 (daily ed. Sept. 8, 2014) (statement of Sen. Leahy); Tobias, Senate Gridlock and Federal Judicial Selection, supra note 13, at 2239, 2254.

 [39]. They resolve cases that involve critical issues like civil rights and abortion. For additional discussion on these issues, see Sally Kenney, Gender and Justice: Why Women in the Judiciary Really Matter (2013); Frank Wu, Yellow: Race in America Beyond Black and White (2003). But see Stephen Choi et al., Judging Women, 8 J. Empirical Legal Stud. 504 (2011).

 [40]. Report, First Circuit Gender, Race and Ethnic Bias Task Forces (1999); Sylvia Lazos, Only Skin Deep?: The Cost of Partisan Politics on Minority Diversity of the Federal Bench, 83 Ind. L.J. 1423, 1442 (2008); Tobias, supra note 13, at 2249.

 [41]. Tobias, Senate Gridlock and Federal Judicial Selection, supra note 13, at 2258; see also discussion supra note 36 and accompanying text for more on Koh’s qualifications.

 [42]. Koh had been vetted, so evaluation was brief. See Egelko, supra note 35; Mintz, supra note 35.

 [43]. See supra notes 8, 29 and accompanying text. He also needed to reciprocate for Democrats’ appointing ten circuit judges, one to an Idaho seat, in Bush’s last two years. 

 [44]. S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (July 13, 2016).

 [45]. John Cornyn (R-Tex.) asked why she “effectively invalidated the Electronic Privacy Act.” Id.; In re Google Inc. Gmail Litigation, No. 13–MD–02430–LHK, 2014 WL 1102660 (N.D. Cal. Mar. 18, 2014). Her circuit lacked precedent, so she consulted other cases.

 [46]. Hearing, supra note 44. Most were uncontroversial; her responses were careful.

 [47]. The GOP held over Koh like most nominees. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Sept. 8, 2016); S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Mar. 22, 2013); see also Tobias, supra note 13, at 2242–43.

 [48]. Cornyn based opposition on the Google opinion. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Sept. 15, 2016); see supra note 45 for further discussion.

 [49]. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Sept. 15, 2016). Obama-elevated judges—whom Judge Nguyen typifies—easily won panel votes, as they had captured them and appointment once. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Dec. 1, 2011); see supra note 21 for further discussion.

 [50]. Tobias, Confirm Judge Koh to the Ninth Circuit, supra note 32, at 454, 455 n.29 (urging regular order and confirmation of 2008 Bush nominees).

 [51]. Tobias, Confirming Circuit Judges in a Presidential Election Year, supra note 31; see also 162 Cong. Rec. S5,312 (daily ed. Sept. 7, 2016) (denying Obama nominees floor votes). Many GOP senators opposed any Supreme Court choice; few opposed Koh. Ted Cruz, The Scalia Seat: Let the People Speak, Wall St. J. (Mar. 6, 2016), https://www.wsj.com/articles/the-scalia-seat-let-the-people-speak-1457307358.

 [52]. Tobias, Confirm Judge Koh to the Ninth Circuit, supra note 32, at 457 nn.36–41; see also supra note 2 and accompanying text.

 [53]. 162 Cong. Rec. S7,183 (daily ed. Jan. 3, 2017).

 [54]. Carl Tobias, Confirming Justices in a Presidential Election Year, 94 Wash. U. L. Rev. 1093, 1103 (2017); Judicial Vacancy List for December 2017, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2017/12/vacancies (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Vacancy List for December 2018, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2018/12/vacancies (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Amber Phillips, Another Big Mitch McConnell Supreme Court Gamble Looks Set to Pay Off, Wash. Post (Oct. 4, 2018), https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2018/10/04/another-big-mitch-mcconnell-supreme-court-gamble-looks-set-pay-off/?.

 [55]. (Judicial Confirmations for December 2009, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies
/2009/12/confirmations/html
(last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Confirmations for December 2017, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies
/2017/12/confirmations (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Confirmations for December 2018, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies
/201/12/confirmations (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); for further discussion see infra notes 6768, 8788. I rely below on Jason Zengerle, Bench Warfare, N.Y. Times, Aug. 26, 2018, at SM30.

 [56]. Tobias, Senate Gridlock and Federal Judicial Selection, supra note 13, at 2240; Robert Costa, McGahn’s Last Stand, Wash. Post (Oct. 4, 2018), https://wapo.st/2RoSiiY?tid=ss_tw&utm
_term=.c4cbd464d2de; see also Michael Schmidt & Maggie Haberman, Lawyer for President Steps Down, N.Y. Times, Oct. 18, 2018, at A13.

 [57]. Jeremy Peters, Trump’s New Judicial Litmus Test: Shrinking the ‘Administrative State’, N.Y. Times (March 26, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/26/us/politics/trump-judges-courts-administrative-state.html; Charlie Savage, Courts Reshaped at Fastest Pace in 5 Decades, N.Y. Times, Nov. 12, 2017, at A1; see also infra note 77 for further discussion.

 [58]. Zoe Tillman, After Eight Years on the Sidelines, This Conservative Group Is Primed to Reshape the Courts Under Trump, BuzzFeed News (Nov. 20, 2017), https://www.buzzfeednews.com
/article/zoetillman/after-eight-years-on-the-sidelines-this-conservative-group. For more discussion of Leo’s impact, see Richard Patterson, The Man Behind Trump’s Judicial Nominees, Boston Globe (Sept. 16, 2018), https://www.bostonglobe.com/opinion/2018/09/06/the-man-behind-trump-conservative-judicial-nominees/bJOU7yNNHSGKkcSEXbb4KM/story.html.

 [59]. Tobias, Senate Gridlock and Federal Judicial Selection, supra note 13, at 2240–41; Joan Biskupic, Trump Fast-Tracks Appeals Judges, but Lags on Lower Courts, CNN (May 25, 2018), https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/25/politics/appeals-district-court-trump/index.html.

 [60]. Thomas Kaplan, Trump Is Putting Indelible Stamp on Judiciary, N.Y. Times, Aug. 1, 2018, at A15; Tillman, supra note 33.

 [61]. Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Announces Seventh Wave of Judicial Nominees (Sept. 7, 2017), https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions
/president-donald-j-trump-announces-seventh-wave-judicial-candidates; Letter from Donald McGahn, White House Counsel, to Sens. Ron Wyden & Jeff Merkley (Sept. 6, 2017), https://assets.documentcloud.org/documents/4042623/9-6-17-McGahn-Letter.pdf; Letter from Sens. Ron Wyden & Jeff Merkley to Don McGahn, White House Counsel (Sept. 7, 2017), http://static.politico.com
/59/2a/f5b886e44d6ba505b1551125a32e/wh-judicial-vacancy-signed.pdf; see also infra notes 8182, 90 for more on later history.

 [62]. Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Announces Eleventh Wave of Judicial Nominees (Feb. 12, 2018), https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions
/president-donald-j-trump-announces-eleventh-wave-judicial-nominees; see also S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Apr. 11, 2018). For more on later history, see infra note 89.

 [63]. 163 Cong. Rec. S8,022, S8,024 (daily ed. Dec. 14, 2017) (statements of Sens. Leahy & Feinstein).

 [64]. Ratings, 115th Cong., supra note 37. The GOP contested Steven Grasz’s rating, alleging that the ABA is a liberal interest group. See S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Nov. 1, 2017); S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Dec. 7, 2017); see also 163 Cong. Rec. S7,965 (daily ed. Dec. 12, 2017) (Grasz’s approval); Adam Liptak, White House Cuts A.B.A. Out of Judge Evaluations, N.Y. Times, Apr. 1, 2017, at A16.

 [65]. Judicial Emergencies for March 2019, U.S. Cts.,  https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2019/03/emergencies (last visited Mar. 11, 2019) (showing that seven of eight circuit vacancies are emergencies).

 [66]. They soared from twelve to eighty-seven. Id. (2019 Judicial Emergencies); Judicial Emergencies for December 2015, U.S. Cts.,  https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2015/12/emergencies (last visited Feb. 19, 2019). But see Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Tenth Wave of Judicial Nominees (Jan. 23, 2018), https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/president-donald-j-trump-announces-tenth-wave-judicial-nominees.

 [67]. For more blue state nominees, see Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Ninth Wave of Judicial Nominees (Dec. 20, 2017); Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Fourteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees, May 10, 2018; Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Sixteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees, July 13, 2018; Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Eighteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees, Oct. 10, 2018. Data verify “red” state priority. Judicial Emergencies, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/judicial-emergencies (last visited Feb. 19, 2019).

 [68]. When the White House issued a notice of intent to renominate fifty of the seventy-three candidates whose nominations expired on January 2, which excluded all three, the Wall Street Journal published an editorial that criticized the White House Counsel for negotiating with the California senators and urged prompt renomination. Editorial, A Bad Judges Deal, Wall St. J. (Jan. 29, 2019), https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-bad-judges-deal-11548807717. The editorial ignited a firestorm of criticism from conservative media that apparently triggered the renominations, leaving the situation unclear. Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Announces His Intent to Nominate Judicial Nominees (Jan. 22, 2018); Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Announces His Intent to Nominate Judicial Nominees (Jan. 30, 2018); Press Release, Feinstein, Harris on Ninth Circuit Nominees (Jan. 30, 2019); Eighteenth Wave, supra note 67; Letter from Sen. Dianne Feinstein to Donald McGahn, supra note 33; 165 Cong. Rec. S23 (daily ed. Jan. 2, 2018) (expired nominations). The nominees are lawyers. Rogan is a respected California Superior Court Judge. 

 [69]. Carl Tobias, President Donald Trump and Federal Bench Diversity, 74 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. Online 400 (2018); Michael Nelson & Rachel Hinkle, Trump Appoints Lots of White Men as Federal Judges. Here’s Why It Matters., Wash. Post (Mar. 13, 2018), http://wapo.st/2Hn6aUT?tid=ss_tw&utm
_term=.e00c0046f478.

 [70]. LGBTQ means “out” sexual orientation; it is possible that some may not have revealed theirs. LGBTQ people are considered “minorities” here. Jennifer Bendery, Trump Finally Has an LGBTQ Judicial Nominee, Huffington Post (June 7, 2018), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/trump-lesbian-judicial-nominee-mary-rowland_us_5b19b351e4b09d7a3d708461.

 [71]. For confirmees, see Judicial Confirmations for December 2017, U.S. Cts.,
https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2017/12
/confirmations
(last visited Feb. 19, 2019); Judicial Confirmations for December 2018, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2018/12
/confirmations
(last visited Feb. 19, 2019). For nominees, see Seventh Wave, supra note 61; Tenth Wave, supra note 66; 4 Waves, supra note 67; Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Twelfth Wave of Judicial Nominees (Apr. 10, 2018); Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Thirteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees (Apr. 26, 2018); Press Release, White House, Office of the Press Sec’y, President Donald Trump Nominates Fifteenth Wave of Judicial Nominees (June 7, 2018).

 [72]. Michael Doyle, Whats Ahead for Wests Liberal Appeals Court, Once Trump Takes Over?, Sacramento Bee (Nov. 23, 2016), https://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government
/article116777848.html?utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=amp&utm_source=www.sacbee.com-RelayMediaAMP; see Sarah Wire, Is Trump Finally Ready To Turn His Sights Toward Remaking the Ninth Circuit?, L.A. Times (Aug. 15, 2018), https://www.latimes.com/politics/la-na-pol-ninth-circuit-vacancies-20180815-story
.html.

 [73]. Maura Dolan, Ninth Circuit Judge Alex Kozinski Steps Down After Allegations of Sexual Misconduct, L.A. Times (Dec. 18, 2017), https://www.latimes.com/politics/la-pol-ca-judge-alex-kozinski-20171218-story.html; Noah Feldman, The 9th Circuit Court Battle Falls Silent, BloombergView (Apr. 2, 2018), https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2018-04-02/stephen-reinhardt-alex-kozinski-and-the-battle-for-9th-circuit; Carl Hulse, Judge’s Death Gives Trump a Chance to Remake a Vexing Court, N.Y. Times, Apr. 8, 2018, at A13.

 [74]. Seung Min Kim, Trump Has Not Taken Aim at the Court That Annoys Him Most, Wash. Post (May 6, 2018), https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/trump-is-transforming-the-judiciary-but-he-has-yet-to-take-aim-at-the-court-that-annoys-him-most/2018/05/06/53886d30-4f9d-11e8-b966-bfb0da2dad62_story.html;  Zoe Tillman, Why Trump Must Work with the Senate, Including Democratic Senators, To Confirm His Judges, BuzzFeed News (Mar. 31, 2017), https://www.buzzfeednews.com
/article/zoetillman/why-trump-will-have-to-work-with-democrats-to-get-his.

 [75]. David Lat, Federal Judicial Nominations: A Quick Recap, Above the Law (Aug. 18, 2017), https://abovethelaw.com/2017/08/federal-judicial-nominations-a-quick-recap.

 [76]. Id.; Kim, supra note 74; see also supra notes 33, 68.

 [77]. The senators first suggested the third be mutually agreeable but substituted Collins to increase the offer’s appeal. The initial White House decision to not renominate the three California October nominees apparently reflected ongoing negotiations between it and the senators, which the conservative media onslaught extinguished. See supra note 68; see also Letter from Sens. Feinstein and Harris to Pat Cipollone, White House Counsel, Nov. 19, 2018; Emily Cadei, Trump Will Have to Nominate 9th Circuit Judges All Over Again in 2019, Sacramento Bee (Dec. 28, 2018), https://www.sacbee.com/latest-news/article223580900.html; supra notes 33, 57, 67, 73, 75.

  The committee scheduled a March 13 hearing for Collins and Lee, despite the California senators’ powerful opposition and retention of blue slips. S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Mar. 13, 2019); Press Release, Feinstein and Harris: Kenneth Lee Nomination Hearing Should Not Move Forward (Mar. 4, 2019); Marianne Levine, Trump Judicial Pick Facing Scrutiny Over Extreme Views in Past Writings, Politico (Mar. 3, 2019), https://www.politico.com/story/2019/03/04/kenneth-lee-9th-circuit-1202707; But see Editorial, Kenneth Kiyul Lee’s White Privilege, Wall St. J. (Mar. 5, 2019), https://www.wsj.com/articles/kenneth-kiyul-lees-white-privilege-11551741146; Senators Feinstein and Harris also opposed, and retained blue slips on, Bress partly because the nominee lacks California ties. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Mar. 7, 2019); Press Release, Feinstein Speaks on Blue Slips, Ninth Circuit Nominees (Mar. 7, 2019); Michael Macagnone, Trump Ninth Circ. Pick’s Lack of Calif. Ties May Imperil Chances, Law360 (Mar. 7, 2019, https://www.law360.com/legalindustry/articles/1136369?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=section.

 [78]. 163 Cong. Rec. S7,174 (daily ed. Nov. 13, 2017); S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Nov. 29, 2017); Letter from Sen. Chuck Grassley to Sens. Patty Murray & Maria Cantwell, Oct. 18, 2018. But see Letter from Sen. Murray to Sen. Grassley, Oct. 22, 2018.

 [79]. Grassley honored this Obama’s last two years; Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.) did the first six. See Mtg., supra note 11.

 [80]. Id.; S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (June 6, 2018) (hearing when Sen. Casey kept slip); S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Oct. 10, 2018) (same for Sen. Brown); S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Oct. 24, 2018) (same for Sens. Murray & Cantwell); see supra note 78; 164 Cong. Rec. S2,607 (daily ed. May 10, 2018).

       82      Maxine Bernstein, Oregon U.S. Senators Say Federal Prosecutor Ryan Bounds Unsuitable for 9th Circuit, Oregonian (Feb. 12, 2018), https://www.oregonlive.com/portland/2018/02/oregons
_us_senators_say_federa.html
; Jimmy Hoover, 9th Circ. Pick Forces Grassley to Choose: Trump or Tradition?, Law360 (Mar. 29, 2018), https://www.law360.com/articles/1025855. For further discussion see supra note 61.

 [82]. S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (May 9, 2018); see also Bernstein, supra note 81 (analyzing the four picks, including Bounds, the panel recommended and senators’ reasons for continuing to oppose Bounds). For further discussion see supra notes 1315, 61.

 [83]. See supra notes 1315.

 [84]. E.g., S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Oct. 10, 24, 2018); S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Oct. 17, 2018) (this and second hearing held in recess); Carl Tobias, Filling the Fourth Circuit Vacancies, 89 N.C. L. Rev. 2161, 2174–76 (2011) (Obama example).

 [85]. Feinstein statement, supra note 63; Leahy statement, supra note 63.

 [86]. Judge Ho did not discuss his DOJ torture advice, which DOJ did not disclose, and Judge Don Willett dodged many queries. S. Judiciary Comm., Hearing on Nominees (Nov. 15, 2017); see also Leahy Statement, supra note 63.

 [87]. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (June 14, 2018); Patrick Gregory, ABA Rates Picks Not Qualified, BloombergLaw (Sept. 17, 2018), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/trump-picks-more-not-qualified-judges-1; Statements, supra note 63 (ABA input’s value); see also supra notes 5758 (external group).

 [88]. For committee approval and Senate confirmation of Judge Michael Brennan, see S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Feb. 15, 2018), supra note 11; 164 Cong. Rec. S2,607 (daily ed. May 10, 2018); supra note 64 (same for Grasz).

 [89]. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (May 10, 2018); 164 Cong. Rec. S4,858 (daily ed. July 10, 2018); see also supra note 62; David Lat, President Trump’s Eleventh Wave of Judicial Nominees, Above the Law ( Feb. 23, 2018), https://abovethelaw.com/2018/02/president-trumps-eleventh-wave-of-judicial-nominees.

 [90]. The members failed to discuss Bounds before voting. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (June 7, 2018); 164 Cong. Rec. S5,098 (daily ed. July 19, 2018) (nomination’s withdrawal); see also supra notes 61, 82.

 [91]. See sources cited supra notes 17–18, 22–23, 89.

 [92]. U.S. Senate Democrats, Schedule for May 7, Apr. 26, 2018. Bush and Obama never approved so many.  Judicial Vacancy List for December 2017, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov
/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2017/12/vacancies
(last visited Feb. 18, 2019); Judicial Vacancy List for December 2018, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2018/12/vacancies  (last visited Feb. 18, 2019); supra note 6 (Bush); see the judicial vacancy list from 2009 to 2017 for Obama.

 [93]. 2017 notice on four came Thursday evening as senators recessed. S. Judiciary Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Nov. 2, 2017); U.S. Senate Democrats, Schedule for Oct. 31, Oct. 26, 2017.

 [94]. See supra notes 88–89.

 [95]. When senators address nominees, few members hear them. GOP senators find the thirty-hour post-cloture rule so unhelpful they urge limiting it. S. Rules Comm., Hearing on S. Res. 355 (Dec. 19, 2017); S. Rules Comm., Hearing on S. Res. 355, (Apr. 25, 2018) (approving resolution); S. Rules Comm., Exec. Business Mtg. (Feb. 13, 2019) (approving S. Res. 50); Burgess Everett & Marianne Levine, McConnell Preps New Nuclear Option to Speed Trump Judges, Politico (Mar. 5, 2019), https://www.politico.com/story/2019/03/06/trump-mcconnell-judges-1205722; Carl Hulse, Ghost of Garland Lurks as GOP Brandishes Nuclear Option Again, N.Y. Times, Feb. 13, 2019, at A14, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/20/us/politics/senate-nuclear-option-trump.html. 

 [96]. See sources cited supra notes 55–62, 65–71.

 [97]. U.S. Senate, Exec. Calendar, Dec. 23, 2017; see id., Dec. 31, 2018 (31 awaited floor votes); Judicial Vacancy List for March 2019, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2019/03/vacancies  (last visited Mar. 11, 2019) (129 district openings); Judicial Emergency List for March 2019, U.S. Cts, https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/archive-judicial-vacancies/2019/03
/emergencies(87); see supra notes 23–24, 68, 92, 97 and accompanying text.

 [98]. Lat (Part 2), supra note 73; Robert McFadden, John McCain Dies, N.Y. Times, Aug. 27, 2018, at A18; Oct. 24 Hearing, supra note 80 (Arizona & Washington resolution); see supra notes 33, 61, 72–78, 82–83. But see supra notes 62, 90; 164 Cong. Rec. S6,883 (daily ed. Oct. 11, 2018) (Ryan Nelson’s confirmation, so Idaho resembles Hawaii).

 [99]. Compare Michael Gerhardt & Michael Stein, The Politics of Early Justice, 100 Iowa L. Rev. 551 (2014), with Orrin Hatch, The Constitution as Playbook for Judicial Selection, 32 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 1035 (2009).

 [101]. The latest began with stalling claims at the end of Bush’s time. The GOP retaliated with huge delay in approving Obama’s nominees. Democrats then used the nuclear option. The GOP next slowed all nominees. See sources cited supra notes 11, 13, 53, 92.

 [102]. Wheeler, supra note 20; see also supra notes 66, 98.

 [103]. See supra notes 23–24, 92 and accompanying text.

 [104]. Hulse, supra note 74. For more, review the U.S. Court’s website and their archive of judicial vacancies.

 [105]. John Roberts, Year-End Report on the Federal Judiciary 7–8 (2010); Tobias, supra note 13, at 2253; Jennifer Bendery, Federal Judges Burned Out, Overworked, and Wondering Where Congress Is, Huffington Post (Sept. 30, 2015), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/judge-federal-courts-vacancies_us_55d77721e4b0a40aa3aaf14b.

 [106]. Judicial Business of the U.S. Courts, Courts of Appeals – Median Times for Merits Terminations in 12 Months Ending Sept. 30, 2017, Tbl. B-4 (2017); Kimberly Robinson, Heavy Caseload Creates 9th Circuit’s Bad Rap, BloombergLaw (May 3, 2018), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/heavy-caseload-to-blame-for-ninth-circuits-bad-rap?context=article-related.

 [107]. Approval is easier at a presidency’s outset, but the duties always apply. See supra notes 30–32.

 [108]. Adam Liptak, Gorsuch Clinched Spot After Long Process, N.Y. Times, Feb. 7, 2017, at A15; see also supra note 54.

 [109]. He seated many circuit judges who may be too new, and too little hard data exist to posit definitive conclusions. Jasmine Lee, Trump Could Flip the Supreme Court. His Impact on the Lower Courts Is Less Clear, N.Y. Times (Sept. 4, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/09
/04/us/politics/trump-federal-judge-appointments.html
.  But see Alison Frankel, Trump Appellate Judges Are Paving the Way to Challenge Precedent, Reuters (Oct. 3, 2018), https://www.reuters.com
/article/us-otc-courtingchange/trump-appellate-judges-are-paving-the-way-to-challenge-precedent-idUSKCN1MD2RD
. See generally  People for the American Way, Confirmed Judges, Confirmed Fears (2019).

 [110]. David Cole, ‘So-Called Judges’ Trump Trump, Wash. Post (Feb. 10, 2017), https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/so-called-judges-trump-trump/2017/02/10/573fd1c8-ef42-11e6-b4ff-ac2cf509efe5_story.html.  But see Hawaii v. Trump, 438 S. Ct. 923 (2018). He might ignite unproductive circuit-splitting efforts. Transcript of Trump Press Confer., N.Y. Times (Feb 16, 2017), https://www.nytimes.com/2017/02/16/us/politics/donald-trump-press-conference-transcript.html; see Cadei, supra note 33; Bob Egelko, Trump May Reopen 9th Circuit Split Debates, S.F. Chron. (Feb. 18, 2017), https://www.sfgate.com/nation/article/Trump-attack-may-reopen-debate-on-splitting-Ninth-10943304.php. 

 [111]. Emergencies reflect conservative work and case load estimates and vacancy length; they show California needs priority. Emergencies, Judicial Emergency Definition, U.S. Cts https://www.uscourts.gov/judges-judgeships/judicial-vacancies/judicial-emergencies/judicial-emergency-definition  (last visited Feb. 18, 2019).

 [112]. Kim, supra note 75; see supra note 66 (finding that presidents and senators deem circuits critical). But see supra notes 80–84 (finding Judiciary Chair Grassley eroded blue slips’ protection regarding seven nominees by processing them without home state senators’ slips).

 [113]. See sources cited supra notes 61–62, 82-–3, 90-91 (two states); supra note 11 (Bush’s effective consultation).

 [114]. The California senators ranked and explained preferences. See supra note 68 and infra note 140.

 [115]. Examples are Thapar, his first confirmee, and Joan Larsen, another early circuit appointee. Elisha Savchak et al., Taking It to the Next Level: The Elevation of District Judges to the U.S. Courts of Appeals, 50 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 478 (2006); Tobias, supra note 13, at 2243–46; supra note 71 (Thapar); 163 Cong. Rec. S6,944 (daily ed. Nov. 1, 2017) (Larsen).

 [116]. This saves time used to restart selection, cultivates relationships with Democrats and rapidly fills California seats. See supra notes 32–53 (California senators favor Koh); Lat (Part 2), supra note 73 (affiliations); see also supra note 67 (nominating Collins and Lee to the Ninth Circuit and Rosen to the Central District); infra note 130 (discussing Obama nominees whom Trump renominated).

 [117]. Obama and Trump seated many with full records, expediting review. See, e.g., supra note 19 (Murguia); supra note 115 (Thapar).

 [118]. Obama and Trump appointed many. See, e.g., supra note 21 (Hurwitz); supra note 115 (Larsen).

 [119]. Obama and Trump confirmed many. See, e.g., supra note 21 (Watford); supra note 23 (Friedland); supra note 64 (Grasz); see supra note 75; Maura Dolan, They Dismissed Her as a Lightweight, L.A. Times (May 28, 2017), https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-chief-justice-20170528-story.html. 

 [120]. Goldman et al., supra note 13, at 14–16; Tobias, supra note 13, at 2239; see also supra notes 56–59.

 [121]. See supra notes 63–64, 78 and accompanying text (rating 6 not qualified).

 [122]. This may occur, devouring resources, and suggests why picking and ranking a few is preferable to sending one.

 [123]. Certain nominees ignored some questions or omitted critical matters. See supra note 121 (Jeff Mateer & Brett Talley); Hearing, supra note 62 (Wendy Vitter); Hearing, supra note 82 (Bounds).

 [124]. Senators must insure that nominees possess (1) mainstream perspectives, (2) ample respect for Supreme Court precedent and legitimate federal or state conduct and (3) no prejudgments on relevant issues.

 [125]. Emily Cadei, Showdown Looms Over Trump’s Picks for 9th Circuit Court, Sacramento Bee (Jan. 31, 2019), https://www.sacbee.com/latest-news/article225349515.html; see also supra note 68.

 [126]. Cadei, supra note 126.

 [127]. Patrick Gregory, New Trump Appeals Nominee Kirkland Partner, Ex-Scalia Clerk, BloombergLaw (Jan. 31, 2019), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/new-trump-appeals-nominee-kirkland-partner-ex-scalia-clerk-3; Niels Lesniewski, Debate Over Ninth Circuit Seats Is Latest Battle in Trump-Senate Judicial Wars, Roll Call (Jan. 31, 2019), https://www.rollcall.com
/news/congress/debate-ninth-circuit-seats-latest-round-judical-wars
.

 [128]. Restrepo’s hearing was typical. Some members posed mundane queries he easily fielded. Tobias, supra note 28, at 45–46.

 [129]. E.g., Tobias, supra note 13, at 2244–46; see supra notes 23, 50–52.

 [130]. Tobias, supra note 32, at 450 n.1. When senators concur on a single choice, Trump may want to defer, as they know more strong aspirants who best represent California and can slow review by keeping slips.

 [131]. The senators favor Koh. See supra note 33. I rely below on Tobias, supra note 32.

 [132]. The sixteen nominees had 2016 panel approval; nine have won confirmation. Carl Tobias, Recalibrating Judicial Renominations in the Trump Administration, 74 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. Online 9 (2017); see also supra notes 45–49. But see Jan. 22 & Jan. 30, 2018 Notices of Intent, supra note 68 (excluding five Obama district nominees whom Trump had renominated). The Chair should poll members; if some prefer another session, he should arrange that.

 [133]. The White House was apparently considering this possibility, as the President did not include any of the three October nominees in the January 22 package of fifty renominees, although the White House did include the three in the January 30 package of nominees. See supra notes 68, 78. But see supra note 67; Letter, supra note 78.

 [134]. Biographical Directory of Judges, U.S. Cts., http://www.uscourts.gov/JudgesAndJudgeships-/BiographicalDirectoryOf Judges.aspx (last visited Feb. 27, 2019); Tim Arango, Who Is Dolly Gee?, N.Y. Times (June 21, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/21/us/immigration-judge-executive-order-trump.html (deftly treating immigration cases).

 [135]. Directory, supra note 135; Cadei, supra note 33 (senators proposed him). McGahn assessed Bush District Judge James Otero and Judge Rogan. Lat (Part 2), supra note 73; Lat, supra note 76; Tillman, supra note 33.

 [136]. Each would increase diversity. Bob Egelko, Liu Confirmed to Supreme Court, S.F. Chron. (Aug. 31, 2011), https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/Gov-Brown-s-senior-legal-adviser-wins-13485312.php; David Siders, Jerry Brown Names Law Professor to California Supreme Court, Sacramento Bee (July 22, 2014), https://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert/article2604510.html; see Maura Dolan, As Brown Ponders Supreme Court Vacancy, Earlier Appointee Defies Expectations, L.A. Times (June 1, 2018), https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-kruger-court-20180531-story.html.

 [137]. See generally Cadei, supra note 33; Dolan, supra note 120.

 [138]. It was Munger, Tolles & Olson where Judge Owens and nominee Lee also worked. Directory, supra note 135; see Eighteenth Wave, supra note 67; supra notes 21, 23 (approvals); Cadei, supra note 33 (senators’ choices).

 [139]. Lat (Part 2), supra note 73 (affiliations); see also supra note 67 (nominating Collins and Lee to the Ninth Circuit and Rosen to the Central District); supra note 68 (renominating Collins and Lee to the Ninth Circuit, Bumatay to the Southern District, and Rosen to the Central District and nominating Bress to the Ninth Circuit).

 [140]. The senators’ approach can facilitate disputes’ resolution and avoid restarting the process. See supra note 122.

 [141]. For more on this idea, see Carl Tobias, Fixing the Federal Judicial Selection Process, 65 Emory L. J. Online 2051 (2016); Michael Gerhardt, Judicial Selection as War, 36 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 667, 694 (2003). New York nominees suggest use of a similar regime or perhaps trades. Thirteenth Wave, supra note 71; Eighteenth Wave, supra note 67.

 [142]. Tobias, supra note 13, at 2260 n.126; see Letter, supra note 33 (suggesting trades); supra note 77.

 [143]. See supra note 142 (Bush appointees Guilford whom the senators proposed and Otero whom McGahn interviewed) They must only do this, if the situation is dire. Biden statement, supra note 7 (trades are controversial).

 [144]. See, e.g., supra notes 79–99, 124–27.

 

Filling the California Ninth Circuit Vacancies

At President Donald Trump’s inauguration, the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit faced ample vacancies that the United States Courts’ Administrative Office labeled “judicial emergencies” because of their protracted length and its huge caseload. Recent departures by Circuit Judge Stephen Reinhardt and former Chief Judge Alex Kozinski, who occupied California posts, and other jurists’ decision to change their active status mean that the circuit has five emergencies, three in California, because Trump has appointed only three nominees. The court also resolves the most filings least expeditiously.

Limited clarity about whether more judges will leave active service over Trump’s presidency suggests that additional confirmations may be necessary; however, the selection process’s stunning politicization will compromise this initiative. For example, when the tribunal enjoined Trump’s controversial determinations which excluded immigrants from seven predominately Muslim nations, he excoriated multiple jurists of the circuit. Trump afforded numerous candidates, but merely three have received approval, partly because home state Democratic politicians retained “blue slips” when the White House minimally consulted. The vacancies—which exceed seventeen percent, and three California openings, which are ten—show the crucial need to fill more vacancies.

Read More »

Crushing Creativity: The Blurred Lines Case and Its Aftermath

On March 10, 2015, the music world was stunned when a jury in Federal District Court in Los Angeles rendered a verdict in favor of the heirs of Marvin Gaye against Pharrell Williams and Robin Thicke, who, along with rapper Clifford Harris, Jr., professionally known as “T.I.,” wrote the 2013 mega-hit song entitled “Blurred Lines.” The eight-member jury unanimously found that Williams and Thicke had infringed the copyright to Marvin Gaye’s “Got To Give It Up.” On appeal, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed the verdict and recently rejected Williams and Thicke’s Petition for Rehearing en banc.

The case is significant for a number of reasons. In typical music copyright cases—at least successful ones—the two works share the same (or at least a similar) sequence of pitches, with the same (or at least similar) rhythms, set to the same chords. The Blurred Lines case was unique, in that the two works at issue did not have similar melodies; the two songs did not even share a single melodic phrase. In fact, the two works did not have a sequence of even two chords played in the same order, for the same duration. They had entirely different song structures (meaning how and where the verse, chorus, etc. are placed in the song) and did not share any lyrics whatsoever.

Read More »

Book Review: Law and Legitimacy in the Supreme Court by Richard H. Fallon, Jr.

Richard Fallon has written another important book about American constitutional law. Indeed, it brings to mind Hilary Putnam’s definition of a classic: the smarter you get, the smarter it gets. Fallon presents a rich, thick description of our constitutional law and practice and an argument for how we may best continue and improve this practice. While intended to be accessible to a broad readership, Fallon’s arguments cut to the core of much current constitutional scholarship, even while urging us to move past many of these sterile debates. Most importantly, Fallon takes seriously his mission of speaking to the Court, as well as to the academy, and takes a real run at changing how the Justices decide cases and articulate their decisions. He accomplishes all of this in a startlingly concise book, running only 174 pages of text and 36 pages of notes and without even a subtitle.

Fallon sets out to explain the nature of constitutional law, the constitutional disagreements of cases, constitutional argument, and the nature of the legitimacy of Supreme Court decisions and, ultimately, the Court itself. That’s a tall order for a little book, but Fallon can make a claim to have accomplished his mission.

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Supreme Court Reform: Desirable—And Constitutionally Required

As decisions by—and appointments to—the Supreme Court have become increasingly divisive, many observers have renewed calls for reform. For example, we could replace lifetime tenure with non-renewable terms of eighteen years, such that one term ends every two years. That way, less would be at stake with each nomination, Justices could not time their retirements for partisan reasons, and appointments would be divided more evenly between Democratic and Republican presidents. Or we could establish a non-partisan, judicial nominating commission.

Concerns about the Supreme Court are not new, but increasing political polarization and partisan maneuvering over the two most recent Court appointments have accentuated tensions. With the legitimacy of the Court at stake, reform to depoliticize the Court seems essential. And whichever reform is promoted, it is generally assumed that implementation would require a constitutional amendment, legislation, or a change in Senate rules.

But the conventional wisdom is wrong. There is a sound argument to be made that Supreme Court reform is constitutionally required.

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Profound Sophistication or Legal Sophistry?

In the midst of growing debate and—according to widely publicized news accounts—growing evidence against President Donald Trump’s impeachment, esteemed former Harvard Law Professor and public intellectual, Alan Dershowitz, recently published The Case Against Impeaching Trump. In this brief, but passionate, defense of the President, Professor Dershowitz provides arguably the strongest legal argument against impeaching the Forty-Fifth President of the United States. Professor Dershowitz’s argument, while beautifully written, is largely a selectively applied textualist attempt to thwart the mounting evidence against President Trump and his administration.

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The Weintraub Principle: Attorney-Client Privilege and Government Entities

Amidst the backdrop of a federal investigation into the actions of President Donald Trump, a previously unexplored legal question has emerged on a topic that forms the foundation of legal practice: Can a succeeding government official revoke a predecessor’s claim of the attorney-client privilege? Although the question is novel, its role within the government context is well established—having been asserted by Presidents Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton in their respective administrations. The context of current events, however, underscores the need to further define the operation of a privilege that is once again being relied upon by a president under investigation.

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Forum Selling Abroad – Article by Stefan Bechtold, Jens Frankenreiter & Daniel Klerman

 

From Volume 92, Number 3 (March 2019)
DOWNLOAD PDF


 

Forum Selling Abroad

Stefan Bechtold,[*] Jens Frankenreiter[†] & Daniel Klerman[‡]

Judges decide cases. Do they also try to influence which cases they decide? Plaintiffs “shop” for the most attractive forum, but do judges try to attract cases by “selling” their courts? Some American judges actively try to enlarge their influence by making their courts attractive to plaintiffs, a phenomenon known as “forum selling.” This Article shows that forum selling occurs outside the United States as well, focusing on Germany, a country that is often held up as the paragon of the civil law approach to adjudication. As in the United States, German courts attract cases primarily through the pro-plaintiff manipulation of procedure, including the routine issuance of ex parte injunctions in press cases and refusal to stay patent infringement proceedings when the patent’s validity is challenged in another forum. A critical difference between forum selling in Germany and the United States is that court administrators are more actively involved in Germany. As state officials, German court administrators have the incentive to consider the effect of caseloads on government revenue and the local economy, and they use their power to allocate judges to particular kinds of cases in order to make their courts attractive. They also use their power over promotion, case allocation, and resources to reward judges who succeed in attracting cases. Based on an extensive set of interviews with attorneys, judges, and court officials, this Article describes evidence of forum selling in German patent, press, and antitrust law. It also analyzes how German courts compete internationally with courts of other countries.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. The German Court System

A. Court Structure

B. Court Administration

C. Jurisdiction and Venue

II. Interview Methodology

III. Forum Selling in German Patent Litigation

A. Introduction

B. How Courts Compete

1. Quality and Predictability

2. Speed

3. Limiting Expert Witnesses

4. Stays Pending Resolution of Nullification Proceedings

C. Motives for Forum Selling

1. Judges

D. Evidence Against Forum Selling

IV. Forum Selling in German Press Law

A. Introduction

B. Forum Shopping

1. Ex Parte Preliminary Injunctions

2. Informal Notice of Likely Decisions

3. Speed

4. Pro-Plaintiff Decisionmaking

5. Attorney’s Fees

6. Quality and Predictability

C. Forum Selling?

1. The Perception of Forum Selling

2. Incentives to Forum Sell

3. Alternative Explanations

V. Forum Selling in German Antitrust Litigation

A. Introduction

B. Forum Selling?

VI. International Forum Selling

A. Antitrust Law

B. Patent and Press Law

VII. Generalizing from the Case Studies

A. Similarities to Forum Selling in the United States

1. Broad Plaintiff Choice of Forum

2. The Importance of Procedure

3. Judicial Efforts to Enhance Forum or Even Judge Shopping

4. Limits of Forum Selling and the Risk of Backlash

B. Differences from Forum Selling in the United States

1. The Importance of Judicial Quality

2. Specialization Facilitates Forum Selling

3. The Importance of Administration

4. Political Economy

Conclusion

 

Introduction

Most judges complain about their busy dockets, but some judges seek the influence and prestige that comes from a higher caseload. In a world where plaintiffs can usually choose the forum, some judges mold procedure and manage cases to entice plaintiffs to file in their court. Just as it is widely accepted that plaintiffs engage in forum shopping, some judges engage in “forum selling.” This competition for cases“forum selling”—has previously been demonstrated in common law countries[1] and arbitration.[2]

This Article shows that forum selling also occurs in civil law systems. In theory, civil law judges are apolitical career civil servants who apply the law in a bureaucratic, anonymous fashion. Nevertheless, forum selling is a reality even in civil law jurisdictions. This Article focuses on Germany, which is often described as the model civil law jurisdiction.[3] Drawing on dozens of interviews with German judges and lawyers conducted specifically for this Article, it shows that forum selling thrives in Germany. This Article pays particular attention to patent law and press law, in which there is good evidence of forum selling within Germany. It also analyzes antitrust law, in which competition is more international and German courts compete (not very successfully) against courts in the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Finland, and other European countries.[4]

The findings in this Article suggest that forum selling is driven by somewhat different factors in Germany than in the United States. Most importantly, while individual judges are the most important agents of forum selling in the United States, court administrators (including state ministries of justice and the executive committee of each court) play an important role in Germany. Through their power to control judicial careers and to create chambers (groups of three judges) that specialize in particular areas of law, court administrators can make their courts attractive.

Nevertheless, the methods used to implement forum selling in Germany are, in some ways, remarkably similar to those used in the United States. For example, just like federal judges in the Eastern District of Texas, German patent and press law judges seem to compete for litigation mostly by interpreting procedural rules in a pro-plaintiff way, which helps shield decisions from appellate review.

As in the United States, forum selling results from venue rules that give plaintiffs almost complete choice of forum in particular kinds of cases. When plaintiffs can choose to sue in only one or two courts, judges have little to gain by aggressively competing for business, because the amount of litigation they can attract is limited. In contrast, when plaintiffs can file nearly anywhere, an enterprising court can gain a sizable fraction of the entire nation’s litigation in a given subject area. So, for example, just three of the 115 regional courts dominate press law litigation in Germany.

As in the United States, forum selling results in a pro-plaintiff tilt. Because plaintiffs choose the forum, judges and administrators who want more cases must make their courts attractive to plaintiffs. While courts compete for cases partly by enhancing the speed and quality of their proceedings, they also do so by more questionable practices, such as ex parte injunctions (which deny the defendant an opportunity to be heard) and allowing plaintiffs to collect damages on patents that may be invalid.

With the possible exception of press law, forum selling in Germany seems to result in less blatantly pro-plaintiff decisionmaking than in the United States. This may reflect the important role of state-level court administrators, who have incentives to take into account the effect biased judging would have on local industry and their own political careers. Because court competition in Germany seems more benign, the problems it causes are probably best addressed through issue-by-issue reform, such as requiring judges to stay infringement proceedings when it is more likely than not that the patent will be invalidated in another forum. While reform of the broad venue rules that allow competition may have other advantages, it may not be the best way to address the problems caused by forum selling, because tightening venue rules would undermine the benefitssuch as judicial quality, speed, and responsivenessthat competition has fostered. Press law, however, may be an area where venue reform would be appropriate, because the pro-plaintiff bias in this area seems more pervasive and especially problematic, and because it reduces the freedom of the press.

More generally, competition for cases can be both good and bad. If courts compete by being more accurate and faster, the justice system will improve. If courts compete by being pro-plaintiff, the justice system will likely worsen. Competition for cases in Germany seems to have resulted in more of the good effects and fewer of the bad ones. Nevertheless, because plaintiffs generally choose the forum, courts interested in hearing more cases are likely to be tempted to compete by being more pro-plaintiff, with the attendant negative consequences. In some ways the debate over the effects of court competition mirrors the debate over competition for incorporation, where some argue that competition leads to an efficient race to the top producing better law,[5] while others argue that competition leads to a race to the bottom because courts tilt the law to protect the people who choose where to incorporate: management.[6]

Part I provides background on the German court system. Part II discusses how interviewees were selected and how the interviews were conducted. Part III analyzes forum selling in German patent litigation. It argues that competition among courts for patent cases has resulted in improvements in the speed and quality of patent litigation. Nevertheless, competition has also led to problematic practices, such as reluctance to stay infringement suits while other courts determine patent validity. This leads not infrequently to situations where a defendant is barred from selling a product which infringes a patent that is later invalidated. Part IV analyzes forum selling in press law, where judges on the dominant courts seem unusually willing to grant preliminary injunctions ex parte, although this denies defendants a key procedural right: the opportunity to be heard. Part V explores the possibility of forum selling in antitrust. Part VI explores the international dimension of forum selling, in particular, how German courts compete with courts from other European countries. Part VII generalizes from the analysis of particular areas of law and compares forum selling in Germany and the United States.

I.  The German Court System

This Part aims to introduce the reader to the German courts, with special emphasis on issues particularly relevant to this Article. Describing a complex federal system in three pages by necessity involves some simplification and glossing over of regional differences.

A.  Court Structure

The German judiciary comprises five branches. The branch called “ordinary courts” (ordentliche Gerichte) has responsibility for the civil law disputes discussed in this Article.

Like the United States, Germany has both federal and state courts, but the structure is very different. The sixteen German states (Bundesländer) run the lower courts, which are responsible for applying both state and federal law. Federal courts generally only hear appeals from the state courts. There are no federal courts of first instance (trial courts) with general jurisdiction.

The ordinary courts system in most cases has three tiers. The 115 regional courts (Landgerichte) are the courts of first instance for larger civil cases, which are the focus of this Article.[7] The twenty-four regional courts of appeals (Oberlandesgerichte) are responsible for hearing appeals (Berufungen) from decisions by the regional courts.[8] Decisions by the regional courts of appeals are subject to a second appeal (Revision) to the Federal Court of Justice (Bundesgerichtshof).[9]

The judges in German regional courts are organized into chambers, which consist of three judges: a presiding judge (Vorsitzender) and two other judges (Beisitzer).[10] One of the judges in the chamber, acting as reporting judge (Be­richterstatter), assumes responsibility for preparing the case,[11] but regardless of who has primary responsibility, the presiding judge largely determines how a case is handled.[12] Final decisions are taken by majority vote and are issued in the name of the entire chamber, so the reader cannot tell who wrote the opinion. There are no concurring or dissenting opinions.[13] As a result, the typical German judge has no ability or incentive to build an individual reputation through his or her voting behavior. Some chambers have a specialized jurisdiction, such as patent law or press law. Nevertheless, even a specialized chamber may be assigned cases outside its specialization, if it would not otherwise have a sufficient caseload.[14]

The regional courts of appeals ordinarily hear only appeals involving more than €600,[15] while the Federal Court of Justice, in principle, hears only appeals if the regional court of appeals allows its decision to be appealed (Revisionszulassung).[16] However, if the value of the appeal exceeds €20,000, an aggrieved party can file a motion with the Federal Court of Justice asking it to review a regional court of appeals decision denying appeal (Nichtzulassungsbeschwerde).[17]

B.  Court Administration

Judges involved in court administration and officials at the state ministries of justice have significant power to determine whether a court will be an attractive venue. This group of people, which we refer to as the “court administration,” consists of two principal groups: the state ministries of justice and court executive committees (Präsidium).[18]

Each German state has a ministry of justice, whose officials include judges on leave from their judicial duties as well as other personnel.[19] The ministry is responsible for hiring judges and promoting them. Judges are not elected, but are typically appointed to office right after having finished their legal education.[20] The most important criterion that ministries of justice consider when appointing judges is the candidate’s grades on the two state law examinations. German judges enjoy tenure up to a mandatory retirement age of 67,[21] and it is rare for a German judge to take another position after retirement. As a result, German judges enjoy considerable independence, as guaranteed in the German constitution.[22] On the other hand, the government controls promotions, which are more common in a career judiciary like Germany’s. An ambitious judge, therefore, may consider potential ministry of justice reactions when making decisions. As a nineteenth century Prussian minister of justice is reputed to have quipped, “judges can be independent as long as I control their promotion.”[23]

The total number of judges is determined by the state parliament, but the ministry allocates the positions among the courts. The ministry of justice also appoints the president of each court, who has administrative responsibilities, including, as discussed below, service on the executive committee. In addition, the ministry allocates funds among the various courts in the state.

Each court has an executive committee consisting of the president and other judges.[24] Judges on the executive committee, other than the president, are elected by all judges on the relevant court. The executive committee divides the judges into chambers, determines whether chambers will have subject matter specialization, and sets the rules allocating cases among chambers.[25]

C.  Jurisdiction and Venue

Unlike in the United States, in Germany there is no distinction between rules governing venue and those governing the personal jurisdiction of the regional courts. A defendant can almost always be sued at her place of residence or business.[26] In addition, depending on the area of the law and the type of case, a lawsuit might also be brought elsewhere. For example, for tort cases, section 32 of the German Code of Civil Procedure (ZPO) allows a plaintiff to sue in “the court in the jurisdiction of which the tortious act was committed.” Venue rules for the principal legal areas discussed in this Articlepatent, press law, and antitrustwill be discussed in detail below. Although a case can be transferred if the original court has no jurisdiction,[27] there are no rules allowing a case to be transferred solely on the ground of convenience.

II.  Interview Methodology

Our analysis is based on thirty-five semi-structured interviews with fifty judges, court officials, and lawyers in Germany. We chose to primarily rely on interviews for this study because of the limited availability of quantitative data about the German court system.[28] The judges interviewed include trial (first instance) judges in the regional courts and appellate judges in both the regional courts of appeal and the German Federal Court. In order to encourage interviewees to respond candidly, we promised anonymity.

Eighteen of the interviews covered patent law, ten press law, and seven antitrust. Patent law interviews took place between April 2014 and January 2019. Interviews in press and antitrust law were conducted between February 2016 and January 2019. Stefan Bechtold and Jens Frankenreiter conducted all interviews in German. With the exception of two phone interviews (one in patent law and one in antitrust law), all interviews were conducted in person.

We selected our interviewees through snowball sampling.[29] This means that, after contacting a small number of practitioners we knew, we used existing contacts to get in touch with new interviewees, and then asked our interviewees for help in contacting additional interviewees. The advantage of this approach is that we gained access to some of the most important figures in each area of the law. The disadvantage is that our interviews may not be representative of the overall population of judges and attorneys in Germany.

Of the eighteen interviews in patent law, eight were conducted with active and former judges. Two of these interviews involved two judges: a total of ten judges were interviewed. Seven of these judges were active at the time of the interview, two were court officials, and one was a former judge. The judges interviewed included current and former judges from the three major patent courts of first instanceDüsseldorf, Mannheim, and Munich. Five were appellate judges.

In eight additional interviews, we talked to eleven lawyers and patent attorneys with offices in Munich or Düsseldorf. Finally, we conducted one interview with three in-house lawyers at a large engineering company in Germany, and one interview with two (nonjudicial) court officials at one of the three major patent courts. In the other subject matter areas, we talked to fourteen attorneys, two judges, and three lawyers working at corporate entities with significant involvement in litigation in the relevant area of the law.

The interviews were conducted as semi-structured interviews. We did not engage in an open conversation, but structured the interviews around a list of questions that remained largely unchanged throughout the process and across the different areas of the law. During the interviews, we made sure to ask all questions to all interviewees, although we sometimes modified the order. We allowed interviewees to elaborate freely in response to our questions and followed up with related or clarifying questions where it seemed helpful. Most interviews were recorded and then transcribed. In some interviews, we were only able to take notes.

To analyze the interviews, two of the co-authors coded the interviews independently from each other according to a preset coding hierarchy, employing the qualitative research software NVivo.

III.  Forum Selling in German Patent Litigation

A.  Introduction

German courts are Europe’s most important forum for patent disputes and are an important venue for the enforcement of patents worldwide.[30] Some authors estimate that more than 60 percent of all patent infringement cases in Europe are brought in Germany.[31] Patent law also plays a special role in the German legal system, as it is one of the few areas where multinational corporations frequently appear before public courts.

There are twelve regional courts with jurisdiction to hear patent infringement cases in Germany.[32] In principle, venue rules in Germany require a plaintiff to sue in a district with a connection to the dispute. For tort cases, the law allows the plaintiff to sue in the district where the tort was committed.[33] In patent law, this rule is interpreted to allow plaintiffs to file a complaint in any district where an allegedly infringing product is sold.[34] As in the United States, before the Supreme Court’s recent decision in TC Heartland LLC v. Kraft Foods Group Brands LLC,[35] this venue rule means that, for a widely distributed product, plaintiffs can bring a claim in any of the twelve courts with jurisdiction over patent disputes.[36]

As mentioned above,[37] decisions of the regional courts can be appealed to a regional court of appeals. For each of the twelve regional courts with jurisdiction over patent suits, there is a different regional court of appeals. The Federal Court of Justice, which hears appeals from decisions by the regional courts of appeal, also has jurisdiction to hear appeals from decisions by the Federal Patent Court (Bundespatentgericht) in patent nullification proceedings.

Given the freedom plaintiffs enjoy in selecting the forum, it is not surprising to find ample evidence of forum shopping in patent litigation: a starkly uneven distribution of the caseload among the twelve relevant courts. The regional court of Düsseldorf has the highest case numbers, followed by the regional courts of Mannheim and Munich. These three courts together hear 80 to 90 percent of all infringement cases in Germany, with Düsseldorf hearing considerably more cases than Munich.[38] In fact, recent estimates indicate Düsseldorf attracts roughly one-third of all the patent litigation in the entire European Union.[39] Given that travel within Germany is fast and German patent attorneys can and do litigate cases all over the country, the only reasonable explanation for this distribution of cases is that patent owners are strategically selecting the court.[40]

Nevertheless, it is impossible to conclude from the distribution of case numbers alone that there is forum selling, as well as forum shopping. The observed distribution of cases could have resulted from something other than the conscious efforts of judges or other officials.[41] The distribution of cases might prove forum shopping, but it would not prove forum selling, because forum selling is the deliberate attempt by courts to attract more cases.[42] While forum shopping refers to plaintiffs’ strategic choice of forum, forum selling focuses on actions by judges and court administrators to influence their caseloads.

Düsseldorf has been the most important for venue for patent infringement proceedings in Germany since the end of World War II, when most Berlin-based attorneys practicing patent law moved there. Until the early 1990s, the so-called “localization principle” (Lokalisationsprinzip) restricted attorneys to representing clients in a single court. As a result, attorneys usually initiated proceedings in the court in their district. Theoretically, a Düsseldorf-based attorney could have brought a case in Munich as well. However, in order to do so, the attorney would have had to cooperate with an attorney registered with the Munich court. This was particularly difficult because attorneys were barred from working in law firms that included lawyers registered in different districts. Given that many attorneys practicing patent law were based in Düsseldorf, it is not surprising that Düsseldorf had the highest case numbers. Besides Düsseldorf, Munich had a significant share of cases due to the fact that the German Patent Office has been based in Munich since 1949.

Important shifts in case numbers have occurred since the early days of the German Federal Republic. Although the shifts are modest compared to the meteoric rise of the Eastern District of Texas as the dominant venue for patent litigation in the United States, they are significant. Most importantly, Mannheim has emerged as the second most important patent venue, eclipsing Munich.

As will be demonstrated below, while sseldorf’s position partly reflects historical factors, the present distribution of casesas well as the handling of cases at the important patent venuesis the result of forum selling on the part of judges and court officials. Düsseldorf was able to maintain its position as the most important patent venue through a combination of the judges’ patentee-friendly handling of cases and the court administration’s active staffing policy. In addition, Mannheim obtained its status as the second most important venue by positioning itself as a faster alternative to Düsseldorf at a time when Düsseldorf’s success in attracting cases led to substantial delays. This rise, in turn, led Düsseldorf to increase the number of judges focusing on patent law in an effort to increase the speed of its proceedings. Lastly, in recent years the Munich District Court has been fighting its decreasing case numbers by adopting an alternative, more plaintiff-friendly way of handling proceedings in a conscious effort to cater to plaintiffs.

One reason German courts are generally so attractive for patent litigation is that it is relatively easy for patentees to obtain an injunction against infringing parties. Not only are patent infringement proceedings relatively quick[43] and cheap[44] but also, in contrast to the United States and many other jurisdictions, injunctions are generally awarded solely based on a finding of infringement. While patent and antitrust law impose certain constraints on full enforcement of intellectual property rights,[45] courts usually do not give any weight to equitable considerations like the consequences of an injunction for the defendant.[46] Furthermore, the defendant in an infringement suit cannot assert as a defense that the patent is invalid. This is a consequence of the bifurcated system of patent litigation in Germany.[47] Challenges to patent validity can be raised only in administrative proceedings before the issuing authority (either the European Patent Office (EPO) or the German Patent and Trademark Office) or before the German Federal Patent Court (either as a direct challenge or as an appeal against a decision by the German Patent and Trademark Office).[48] Infringement proceedings, by contrast, are heard in the ordinary civil courts,[49] which do not have jurisdiction to decide patent validity. Rather, the defendant challenging the patent’s validity must initiate a separate nullification proceeding in the appropriate patent office or court.[50] If the patent infringement and the patent nullification proceedings overlap, the infringement proceedings are not automatically suspended. Rather, the ordinary civil courts enjoy discretion whether to stay the proceeding until the nullification proceeding is resolved.[51] As nullification proceedings usually take considerably longer than infringement proceedings,[52] unless infringement proceedings are stayed, even holders of patents that are later declared invalid are usually able to obtain enforceable injunctions, which allow them to temporarily bar the alleged infringer from selling its products.[53]

B.  How Courts Compete

Just like in the United States, German patent judges who are interested in attracting litigation to their court have an incentive to cater to the preferences of plaintiffs. Defendants usually have no way to influence the venue in which the case is heard. As mentioned above, if the court selected by the plaintiff has jurisdiction, there are no rules allowing a defendant to request that a case be transferred to another court. In addition, a potential defendant cannot preempt an infringement suit by filing for declaratory judgment.[54]

Plaintiffs focus on two main dimensions when they decide where to bring a case: the quality and predictability of the judgment and the speed of the proceedings. According to patent attorneys, there are considerable differences between the quality and speed of proceedings at different courts. Düsseldorf has a reputation for delivering the highest quality decisions. They are perceived as well reasoned and in accord with the case law of the Federal Court of Justice, and thus unlikely to be challenged or overturned on appeal.[55] This perception varies, however, for different technical areas. In particular, Mannheim has acquired a reputation for being wellversed in cases concerning telecommunications.[56] Mannheim also has a reputation for adjudicating cases more quickly than Düsseldorf.[57] Munich’s reputation on both dimensions has improved in recent years, but it is considered to trail Düsseldorf in quality and Mannheim in speed. By contrast, we found no evidence of systematic differences between courts in the interpretation of the substantive law.

The different strengths of individual courts seem to appeal to different kinds of plaintiffs. Patent attorneys report that they tend to file complex cases in Düsseldorf, while they prefer Mannheim when time is the dominant concern.[58] In individual cases, plaintiffs might also choose to pick a slower court in order to delay the resolution of the case. Mannheim appears to attract many cases involving the telecommunications industry, while most cases involving pharmaceutical and chemical industries are filed in Düsseldorf.[59]

Other differences that plaintiffs take into account when deciding where to file include the handling of preliminary injunctions,[60] the acceptance of English-language documents,[61] and the enforcement of injunctions.

1.  Quality and Predictability

The ability of individual judges to improve the quality of decisions is limited. The most important determinants of the quality of a judgment are the experience and the ability of the sitting judges, and that is relatively uniform across the relevant German courts. Of course, it is possible that some judges work harder, but attorneys generally describe patent judges across all courts as dedicated and highly motivated. One can speculate whether Mannheim’s preference for quick decisions comes at the price of slightly lower quality, while Düsseldorf accepts longer durations in order to ensure a high quality of decisions.

Our interviews indicate, however, that judges invest in increasing the predictability of their decisions. In Germany, whether a decision is published largely depends on a judge’s decision to send it to a database provider or publishing house.[62] Judges in Düsseldorf attempt to publish as many decisions as possible in a conscious effort to increase the predictability of their decisionmaking.

Court administrators also play a key role in ensuring quality. Court administrators have a large influence over judges’ careers. Also, they have considerable influence over judicial workloads, as they decide how many judges at in a court hear patent cases, and whether patent judges also hear cases in different fields of the law. A number of interviewees attributed the perception of Düsseldorf as the highest-quality provider of patent litigation at least partly to the very active policy of the court’s administration to assign excellent young judges to patent cases, to make sure that more senior roles are given to judges with experience in patent law, and to provide patent judges with career incentives that make it attractive both for talented young judges to join this field and for older judges to stay in the field. Other court administrations, by contrast, are perceived not to treat judges specializing in patent litigation favorably in this regard.[63] In particular, for many years the courts in Munich, in keeping with their general approach to judicial assignments, did not allow judges to spend most of their career in patent law. Also, courts can use their power to manage the caseload of patent judges in a conscious effort to provide their judges with the time necessary to produce high-quality judgments in a short time.

2.  Speed

While judges have limited ability to increase the quality of proceedings, they use various tools to speed up proceedings in an effort to appeal to plaintiffs. First, they make use of the fact that they have broad discretion in how they manage proceedings before their court. Judges have a lot of discretion in when and how often they schedule oral hearings and how many rounds of briefs they allow the parties to submit. These decisions have a major impact on the length of proceedings. Interestingly, while the three main patent courts follow different approaches in how they handle their procedures,[64] they all aim to resolve cases quickly. Attorneys even report that judges advertise the speediness of their proceedings, promising to resolve a case in less than a year.

Not only do judges attempt to cater to plaintiffs by increasing the speed of proceedings, but also court administrations across the country have used their power to create additional patent chambers[65] to ensure that the speed of the proceedings does not suffer, despite increasing case numbers. One example of such an effort is the creation of a second patent chamber in Düsseldorf in reaction to Mannheim’s rise during the early 2000s. Düsseldorf, like all courts at that time, had only one dedicated patent chamber. Due to increases in caseloads, the duration of proceedings increased, and attorneys were increasingly looking for alternatives. In that environment, Mannheim succeeded in attracting a considerable number of cases by offering quicker proceedings.[66] Also, patent judges in Mannheim acquired a reputation for the quality of their decisions and for handling cases in a patentee-friendly way. In 2005, Düsseldorf reacted by establishing a second patent chamber, which allowed them to significantly reduce the duration of proceedings.

Increasing the speed of proceedings in most cases favors the plaintiff, who is able to obtain an injunction at an earlier point in time.[67] While we claim that judges and court administrations provide for speedy proceedings in an attempt to cater to plaintiffs, we have no reason to believe that attempts to speed up proceedings favor plaintiffs in an unfair way. Most importantly, we have heard of no reports of instances in which defendants did not have sufficient time to prepare.

3.  Limiting Expert Witnesses

The length of proceedings depends, to a large extent, on whether expert witnesses are brought in by the court. German judges have the ability[68] to appoint expert witnesses to provide an opinion on the technical aspects of a case.[69] Kühnen estimates the involvement of an expert witness causes a delay of about two years.[70]

It seems reasonable to assume that, the more experience a patent judge has, the less often that judge will rely on expert witnesses. Accordingly, Düsseldorf is reported to employ expert witnesses only rarely.[71] Mannheim’s rise is partly attributed to the fact that they also used expert witnesses sparingly.[72] Munich, by contrast, until 2009 had a reputation for higher rates of expert involvement,[73] causing attorneys to counsel their clients against bringing patent suits there. As one attorney put it:

People stopped going to the Munich court because they had the practice of involving expert witnesses in around 80, 90, percent of the cases. . . . Therefore, we just avoided going there. It took too long. . . . For some time, some people called it malpractice to go to Munich. Along those lines, it was that extreme. I am exaggerating only slightly.[74]

The use of expert witnesses by the regional court in Munich arguably was one of the factors contributing to decreasing numbers of patent cases filed there. In 2009, judges at the regional court of Munich announced the introduction of the “New Munich Proceedings” (Neues Münchner Verfahren), a series of changes to their way of dealing with infringement proceedings. Among other things, they announced that they would, in the future, only rely on expert witnesses in rare circumstances.[75] To publicize these changes, the Munich judges gathered a group of about two hundred judges, court officials, industry representatives, trial lawyers, and patent attorneys in a gymnasium of a local school.[76] As demonstrated by the following quote from a judge at another court, these changes are seen as an effort to attract more litigation which was (at least temporarily) successful:

Yes, this was an attempt to use a new way of handling proceedings as a means for advertisement.[77]

A second judge more generally perceived judges in Munich as competing for litigation:

One can in fact not say that judges advertise their court to lawyers. But I believe in Munich this is partly done nowadays. That the presiding judge actively approaches lawyers.[78]

While the current handling of expert witness appointments, at least in one court, seems to be a result of forum selling, we lack a basis to claim that it has led to a procedure that unfairly favors the plaintiff over the defendant. Certainly, as mentioned before, reducing the length of proceedings mainly serves the plaintiffs’ interests. At the same time, we find no evidence that the decision of the judges at the Munich regional court to resolve more cases on their own has led to a decrease in the quality of their decisionmaking.

4.  Stays Pending Resolution of Nullification Proceedings

While the methods of competition discussed so far seem not to have resulted in a decrease in quality (and may even have enhanced it), the reluctance of courts to stay proceedings pending invalidity challenges is much more problematic. As mentioned above, judges in infringement proceedings do not have jurisdiction to rule on the validity of a patent. Instead, patent validity challenges must be brought in separate revocation or nullification proceedings at either the relevant patent office or the German Federal Patent Court.[79] According to section 148 of the German Code of Civil Procedure, judges have the power to stay infringement proceedings until completion of a pending revocation/nullification proceeding. Because nullification proceedings usually take considerably longer than infringement proceedings,[80] a decision to stay a proceeding has a significant impact on the duration of the infringement proceeding.[81] Also, a decision not to grant a stay creates a danger that the plaintiff may obtain an injunction despite the fact that the patent at issue is later declared invalid.[82] The plaintiff, of course, would prefer not to stay the infringement suit in order to both make the infringement suit conclude faster and get the benefit of a favorable judgment of infringement before the patent is declared invalid.

According to case law of the Federal Court of Justice, proceedings should be stayed if the court considers it more likely than not (überwiegend wahrscheinlich) that the patent will be held invalid.[83] In practice, judges at the three most important patent courts have only granted a defendant’s request to stay the case in a small fraction of cases in recent years.[84] For example, Kühnen and Claessen estimate that requests to stay proceedings are granted in only ten percent of all cases.[85] Practitioners report that courts also differ in their willingness to stay proceedings.[86] The restrictive handling of requests to stay proceedings is communicated openly by the courts in a way that seems to be at odds with the case law of the Federal Court of Justice. For example, the regional court in Munich published a set of instructions called “Information concerning the Munich procedure in patent proceedings” (Hinweise zum Münchner Verfahren in Patentstreitsachen), which state with regard to stays:  

The chamber handing down the decision will . . . normally only in exceptional cases come to the conclusion that there is a sufficient likelihood that the patent in question will be invalidated (or substantially confined) in the validity proceeding and stay the proceeding.[87]

A newspaper article cited a judge from the Munich court as stating that infringement proceedings would only be stayed if there was roughly an eighty percent chance that the patent would be declared invalid in the nullification proceeding.[88]

There is no reason to believe that this restrictive practice is justified by the fact that most invalidity proceedings are unsuccessful. Cremers et al. analyzed the outcomes of all cases at the three biggest patent courts in Germany between 2000 and 2008 in which the court issued a judgment despite ongoing nullification proceedings.[89] They found that, among all cases in which the regional court had found the defendant to be at least partly infringing, in 35.5% of the cases the patent was later declared at least partly invalid. In another 45% of the cases, the challenge to the patent validity was withdrawn before decision.[90] This means that, among the cases in which the question of validity was decided, the patent was declared at least partly invalid in almost two thirds. Kühnen and Claessen’s analysis suggests that this problematic situation has continued.[91]

It was not always the case that requests to stay infringement proceedings were handled this way. Until the late 2000s, judges in Munich granted stays at considerably higher rates.[92] This was one of the factors that made Munich an unattractive venue for plaintiffs and led to the introduction of the New Munich Proceeding in 2009. As one judge from another court stated:

The perception of Munich is that [the introduction of the New Munich Proceedings] has led to a decrease in the duration of proceedings. Though before the change the duration of proceedings had been excessive compared with other courts. Proceedings were stayed often in case of parallel nullification proceedings. And I have the impression from talking to many attorneys that the perception is that it has changed to the better.[93]

Besides announcing that they would appoint expert witnesses only rarely, the judges pledged to change their approach to motions to stay.[94] Reportedly, this change has contributed to luring plaintiffs back to Munich. One lawyer commented on this change as follows:

But in practice there were significant differences. One had the impression that in Munich they basically had the view: Well, if we are not absolutely sure about the question of infringement, we can do away with the need to obtain evidence or appoint an expert witness if the patent is invalidated, so we would rather wait. That was in the past. This in fact led to us avoiding Munich, because one had to take into account the fact that the risk of a stay was high. This again led to a counter reaction, with the presiding judge in Munich saying, In Munich, we do not stay proceedings, which is also bizarre.[95]

These days, judges seem to be well aware that a more generous handling of requests to stay the procedure would potentially lead to plaintiffs avoiding their court. One attorney quoted a judge at one of the major patent courts as saying in relation to a number of cases which had been stayed at this court:

Well, I do not really dare presenting these results, because it might potentially threaten our reputation as a patentee-friendly court if I tell you that during the last year we stayed one third of the cases in which this issue played a role.[96]

Like many procedural devices used by the Eastern District of Texas to attract patent litigation,[97] the decision by a German court whether to stay a proceeding is largely shielded from review by the Federal Court of Justice. Section 148 of the German Code of Civil Procedure grants judges discretion regarding their decision whether to stay a procedure.[98] There seems to be no case in which the Federal Court of Justice has reversed a decision by a lower court to stay or not to stay a patent infringement proceeding.

Some commentators have defended the courts’ restrictive approach. They mostly argue that a stay of the procedure would de facto shorten the validity period of a patent.[99] Besides, they point to section 717(2) of the German Code of Civil Procedure, which grants alleged infringers a right to claim damages if an injunction is later revoked. Therefore, they suggest that patentees would not risk enforcing their injunctions if they thought their patent vulnerable.[100]

In spite of such arguments, the practice of the courts has come under criticism in recent years, and there are good reasons to believe that the current practice unfairly favors plaintiffs.[101] First, as noted above, empirical studies find that patents that are the subject of both infringement suits and parallel nullification or revocation proceedings are, in fact, often invalid. Second, the prospect of damages is unlikely to deter patent plaintiffs from suing on weak patents, because defendants subject to injunctions later revoked actually do not consistently recover all losses they suffer when they stop selling the allegedly infringing product. Especially when the defendant was about to enter a new market, it will often have a hard time proving its losses.[102] In addition, there are situations in which the defendant cannot sue for damages after the patent is invalidated, but can only recover for unjust enrichment.[103] The evidence therefore suggests that the prospect of damages does not deter plaintiffs from suing to enforce weak patents or using the threat of an injunction as a bargaining chip to extract wide-ranging concessions from the defendant, potentially even including the withdrawal of the defendant’s challenge to the validity of the patent.[104]

In sum, forum selling has contributed to creating and sustaining a situation in which courts seldom stay infringement suits when there are parallel proceedings regarding patent validity. This is problematic, given that Germany’s bifurcated patent litigation system makes it impossible for the defendant to challenge patent validity in an infringement suit. As a result, patent defendants may lose infringement suits based on invalid patents that they were unable to challenge in time. Judges were supposed to protect against this danger by staying infringement proceedings when invalidity was likely, but competitive pressures have rendered this safeguard ineffective.[105]

The fact that German judges are reluctant to stay infringement proceedings while other courts decide validity is similar to the practice of U.S. judges in the Eastern District of Texas seldom staying suits pending reexamination in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.[106] The consequences in Germany, however, are much more severe. In the United States, a patent defendant can challenge the validity of the patent in an infringement suit, so refusal to grant a stay does not mean that the defendant lacks the ability to challenge the patent in timely fashion. In contrast, in Germany, the courts that hear infringement cases lack jurisdiction to hear challenges to patent validity so, without a stay, defendants have no ability to challenge the patent before they are found to have infringed it.

C.  Motives for Forum Selling

1.  Judges

As in the United States,[107] forum selling runs counter to common beliefs about how judges behave. In continental Europe, legal theory is still largely dominated by a legalistic view of judicial behavior. According to this view, judges care solely about applying the law correctly, not about policy or caseloads. Even if one were to adopt a more realistic approach, there are ample reasons to believe that judges would not want to attract patent cases to their court. Because patent cases are assigned to specialized chambers, increasing the numbers of patent cases could significantly affect the workload of judges working in patent law without providing them with any direct benefit. More generally, patent law tends to involve complex, highly technical fact patterns, and it can be a formalistic area of the law requiring extensive expertise in specialized case law that is difficult to apply elsewhere.

i.  Interesting Cases

Judges who specialize in patent litigation probably do so because they enjoy working in this field. Patent law is considered intellectually challenging. Also, judges have the opportunity to work with some of the most sophisticated clients and lawyers. Patent litigation often involves multi-million Euro disputes, meaning that parties will often have the financial resources to finance the litigation until it is resolved by courts. This makes patent law an intellectually attractive area of the law for judges, as legal disputes are decided by judges rather than settled. Because of the existence of specialized chambers, a small number of judges can determine how patent cases are handled.[108] As one attorney put it:

It’s an advantage and a disadvantage at the same time. They have to work more, but maybe they have more interesting work. Those working in the chamber, in particular the presiding judges, have the opportunity to decide exactly how to proceed. They like to work in this area. And when we talk to the judges, there certainly is a point where they say, Sure it’s too much work but overall the work is great. Why is it great? Just like for us, in reverse: They like the complexity, and fortunately, they also praise the quality of the attorneys.[109]

A judge who contributes to attracting cases to the court has a considerable chance of being involved in these new cases. In this way, the fact that German judges who hear patent cases generally specialize in that area facilitates forum selling. Because American judges generally do not specialize, if one judge wants to hear more patent cases, it will be difficult for the judge to do so, because even if the judge gains a reputation for resolving cases in a way that patent plaintiffs appreciate, random assignment of cases generally means that even if a plaintiff files in that judge’s district, the case is unlikely to be assigned to the favored judge. The Eastern District of Texas was able to overcome this problem by deviating from random assignment and, essentially, allowing patent plaintiffs to choose the judge.[110] In Germany, no such problematic deviation from general norms is necessary. If the small number of judges in a patent chamber or chambers want to hear more cases, they can guarantee that all future patent cases in that court will go to them.

While increasing the number of patent cases in a particular court could create a crushing workload, this need not occur. First, court administrators can divert non-patent cases that these judges might otherwise have had to hear to other judges. In addition, in the long run, court administrators can add additional judges. Unlike in the United States, where adding judgeships requires cumbersome legislation at the national level, German court administrators have the power to increase the number of judges in particular areas. This, in turn, increases a judge’s chances of staying in patent law and even acquiring a more senior position. Falling case numbers, by contrast, would over time result in a more mixed set of cases or even the reduction of the number of patent law chambers and the reassignment of judges to different legal areas.

ii.  Reputation and Power

Judges do not specialize in patent law only for intellectual reasons. Patent cases also provide them with the chance to wield power in an important field and to build a reputation as a successful and influential judge.[111]

Patent judges get to decide commercially important cases; more senior judges even have the power to shape the development of the law in an area that is seen as important to economic development and technological progress. Attracting a higher number of cases to the court provides a larger platform with which to influence the law. Not only do higher case numbers imply more decisions in absolute terms, but, by attracting more cases to the court, judges also increase their chances of being involved in landmark cases. One attorney reported:

I think judges are absolutely interested in getting big, important cases. Sure this can happen. They are happy when a lawyer approaches them with a big telecommunications case, and, in view of that, they would do everything to be somehow attractive. I believe that at least those patent judges who are in office at the moment everywhere are not the ones to say: I am happy if this huge thing ends up elsewhere. They are crazy about those cases. They want them. This is absolutely clear.[112]

Some patent judges also care about their reputations as powerful and successful figures in patent law. Another lawyer answered a question about judges’ motives for attracting litigation as follows:

Disadvantage: more work. Advantage: enhanced reputation. One gets better known. They are only human. Why does a patent attorney or an attorney take on a landmark case even though there might be more lucrative work? Because one gets better known by doing landmark cases. Why do we want to get better known? Because everyone wants to be famous.[113]

The notion that judges are driven by a desire to increase their reputation is also shown by an episode in which a judge issued a judgment right after the end of the oral hearing.[114] Lawyers who were present at the oral hearing attributed this decision to the fact that several journalists were present. Rankings of the most popular patent judges, which have been created by legal trade journals, also indicate that reputation may matter.[115]

iii.  Career Perspectives

Building or contributing to an important patent venue can boost a judge’s career prospects. Unlike in the United States, German judges do not generally stay in the court to which they were initially appointed. Instead, if they perform well, they can expect to be promoted to a more prestigious post.[116] Increasing patent caseloads can increase a judge’s chances of promotion for several reasons. First, an increase in case numbers might prompt the court administration to create additional senior positions which have to be filled with judges with prior experience in patent law. In addition, as noted above, judges with a greater caseload are more likely to be perceived as influential and successful.

In recent years, the pending introduction of the Unified Patent Court[117] arguably provided additional incentives for judges to position themselves as successful patent law judges.[118] It is expected that judges at the Unified Patent Court will be paid much more than others, and it seems reasonable to assume that some judges might also be attracted by the intellectual task of creating a new international court system.

iv.  Personal Gain and the Local Economy

Judges have no direct monetary incentive to attract litigation to their court. Most importantly, their salary is not connected to the number of cases they decide. Still, successful and influential patent judges might profit indirectly from their status. They might give paid speeches at conferences,[119] and they can publish books,[120] which can generate substantial revenue for judges whose interpretation of the law is considered important. In addition, promotion to presiding judge or a higher court or selection to the Unified Patent Court would increase the judge’s salary. To the extent that attracting a higher caseload contributes to a judge’s reputation and enhances the chances of promotion, the prospect of a higher salary provides an indirect incentive for forum selling.

In contrast to the Eastern District of Texas, we find no indication that German judges’ behavior is driven by a desire to help the local economy. Nevertheless, as noted below, court administrators may be motivated by the prospect that a strong patent court could attract technology companies to the area.

2.  Court Administration

In addition to individual judges, the court administrationmost importantly court executive committees and state justice ministriesplay an important role in positioning “their” patent courts to succeed in competition with other German patent courts. One judge from another court even went so far as ascribing the rise of Mannheim to a conscious decision by its court administrators:

Probably at one point people at the ministry [the state ministry of justice of Baden-Württemberg] and the court said: Why do we not participate in this? . . . This is how I imagine it. And then they consistently chose top-of-the-notch judges. I know some of them; they are really good.[121]

i.  Staffing

Court administrators play a central role in forum selling in patent litigation in Germany. Not only does their staffing policy directly affect the quality of the patent chambers,[122] their decisions also determine whether judges have an incentive to attract more cases to the court. For example, if the court administration does not react to increasing case numbers with an increase in the numbers of judges dealing with patent law, the length of proceedings will likely go up and the attractiveness of the venue will suffer. If the court administration does not provide judges with an opportunity to work in patent law long-term and to be promoted for doing so, judges have less of an incentive to invest in acquiring patent expertise. As one judge put it:

When they begin [working in a patent chamber], they know nothing about patent law. It takes two years for them to find their way around. This is tough. You have to encourage that through chances for promotion. Nobody does this because it is so exciting. Instead they need to see that they can enhance their career. I think this is absolutely key.[123]

The fact that Düsseldorf has maintained its position as the most important venue for patent litigation seems to be to a large degree caused by concerted efforts on the part of the court administration to reward patent judges. While on the other hand, Munich’s failure to attract more cases despite the proximity of the European Patent Office and the German Patent and Trademark Office can be attributed, at least partly, to the failure of court administrators to craft policies that would make it attractive for judges to build a career in patent law.

ii.  Court Revenue

These observations raise the question of why court administrators use their powers to strengthen their court’s reputation as a patent venue. This question is particularly relevant because it seems reasonable to assume that the strengthening of patent chambers comes at a cost: judges in other fields of the law might feel unfairly treated if they do not get the same kind of recognition for their work or if the administration does not provide them with the same resources as patent judges.

Arguably, the most important reason why court administrations might invest in successful patent chambers is the substantial revenue from court fees.[124] In response to a question about the consequences of increases in case numbers for the states, one judge stated:

First of all, they profit from such increases. Profit monetarily. Revenues from court fees are very high in this area of the law. . . . And this is still ignoring further effects. Law firms also have their offices at this court venue, pay taxes, create jobs, and so on. I do think this is of importance economically.[125]

Patent law is often described as the only legal area that generates enough income to pay for a court’s operations. For example, some estimate that the regional court of Düsseldorf generated about €7.5 million in court revenues from patent litigation in 2009 alone, and that the regional court of Munich generated between 2 and 5 million.[126] The revenues from patent and antitrust proceedings in Düsseldorf help fund the entire judicial system in the state of North Rhine-Westphalia.[127] This creates incentives for the court administration to provide patent courts with the human and physical resources they need to be successful and to attract cases.[128]

iii.  Aiding the Local Economy

The Düsseldorf court administration is reportedly well aware that a strong patent court helps generate additional income for the local economy.[129] More generally, being perceived as a strong forum for patent litigation is considered a positive location factor for industry. Unlike the United States, where there is considerable debate about whether strong patent enforcement benefits patent trolls at the expense of productive companies, in Germany there is less concern about trolls,[130] and strong patent enforcement is perceived as beneficial to local manufacturing. As the justice minister of Baden-Württemberg stated during preparations for the Unified Patent Court:

A strong patent venue in Mannheim is beneficial for the economy in this state. In particular, the many small and medium-sized enterprises in Baden-Württemberg stand out due to their enormous innovative potential and their impressive creativity . . . . In order to protect the six million jobs in the state, this intellectual property needs to be protected effectively and reliably.[131]

Similarly, in February 2017, the justice ministry of North Rhine-Westphalia issued a press release with the title “North Rhine-Westphalia’s state capital on its way to the World Patent Court.” The press release quoted the minister of justice:

With the implementation of the Unified Patent Court agreement in Europe, Düsseldorf is reaching for the crown among the patent court venues in the world. The patent chambers of the regional court and the court of appeals of Düsseldorf have more patent cases than all other courts in Europe. Worldwide, only Washington is more popular with companies. If President Donald Trump continues his policy of isolating his country economically, even this could change very soon, and Düsseldorf could advance to the leading patent court in the world.[132]

Furthermore, the press release stressed that, “[w]ith 7,000 patent filings per year, North Rhine-Westphalia [was] one of the most important patent locations in Germany,” and that “[t]he judiciary in North Rhine-Westphalia [had] superbly qualified personnel and offers firms legal certainty in speedy patent proceedings.[133]

iv.  Administrator Prestige

Contributing to a court’s success might increase the prestige of the local administration as well as the personal reputation of key players such as court presidents and politicians. In 2010, for example, the regional court of Düsseldorf moved into a state-of-the-art building where patent proceedings involving companies such as Google, Apple, and Samsung are held.[134] After it was announced that one of the Unified Patent Court’s local divisions would be located in Düsseldorf, the state justice minister praised the state government’s decision to create additional judgeships at the Düsseldorf courts as responsible for the success of these courts on a European scale.[135] In a similar vein, the presiding judge of the Court of Appeals of Düsseldorf praised the international orientation of the first-instance and appeals courts in Düsseldorf.[136]

v.  Attracting a Branch of the Unified Patent Court

In the years leading up to 2014, the introduction of the European Union’s Unified Patent Court[137] provided an additional incentive for states and their court and ministry officials to position their courts as an important patent litigation forum: decisions about the locations of local branches of the Unified Patent Court were expected to take into account patent caseloads in preceding years.[138]

D.  Evidence Against Forum Selling

We also find a number of features that are hard to reconcile with the forum selling hypothesis. For example, the court in Mannheim has a reputation for enforcing strict time limits for preliminary injunctions. They do not ordinarily accept any request filed more than four weeks after the patentee learns about an alleged infringement. Similarly, one of the most senior judges in Düsseldorf’s way of presiding over proceedings has brought him a reputation for treating litigants in a harsh and unfriendly manner.[139]

In our view, these phenomena do not imply that forum selling does not exist. Instead, they indicate that other factors sometimes prevail over the desire to hear more cases. Forum selling is a factor, but certainly not the sole factor in judicial decisionmaking.

IV.  Forum Selling in German Press Law

A.  Introduction

German law accords relatively broad rights to private persons who are subject to press coverage or otherwise appear in the media.[140] Not only is it illegal to disseminate false or libelous information, but also, under certain circumstances, the media is barred from publishing photos or videos of private persons, or from reporting truthfully on an individual’s private life. In addition, in sensitive matters (such as criminal investigations), it is potentially illegal to disclose the identity of persons whose actions are reported.

In press law, plaintiffs can ordinarily sue in any regional court.[141] In practice, plaintiffs nearly always request a preliminary injunction (einstweilige Verfügung),[142] which can be requested from the court in any district where the allegedly infringing publication is sold or otherwise disseminated.[143] This means that plaintiffs can sue a television station that broadcasts its content nationwide before any of the 115 regional courts in Germany.[144] As in patent law, this permissive venue rule is the result of an expansive interpretation of section 32 of the German Code of Civil Procedure.[145]

In practice, press law cases are heavily concentrated in a small number of courts. While exact numbers are not available, information from interviewees and from appeals proceedings suggest that the courts in Berlin, Hamburg, and Cologne together hear more than half of all press cases. Substantial numbers of cases are also handled by the courts in Munich and Frankfurt.[146]

The concentration of press law cases at a small number of courts is not a new phenomenon. One historical reason for this concentration is that, until the early 1990s, attorneys were only allowed to represent clients in the court in their home district.[147] Because a case asserting a plaintiff’s right of reply has to be brought at the publishing house’s place of business, most attorneys who wanted to practice press law chose to settle in cities where major media outlets were located. As a result, courts in major media hubs turned into important venues for press litigation. Nevertheless, with the elimination of rules restricting practice to the lawyer’s home city, lawyers now routinely travel to litigate in courts far from their homes. The modern concentration of press cases in a small number of courts therefore requires a different explanation.

B.  Forum Shopping

Attorneys representing plaintiffs in press law cases today engage in an aggressive form of nationwide forum shopping.[148] With the exception of cases seeking to enforce a plaintiff’s right to reply, lawyers strategically select the forum that appears most likely to achieve the best outcome for their clients. Also, lawyers react swiftly to perceived changes in court procedure: a court that handles cases in a way that is perceived as plaintiff-friendly can rather quickly attract a large number of cases, while courts that become more defendant-friendly risk losing a large share of cases.

Forum shopping is boosted by the fact that, in all regional courts that are major press law venues, press law cases are heard by only one chamber.[149] This means that attorneys can de facto shop for the judges who are going to hear their case. While a chamber is composed of three judges, the presiding judge has a large influence. The fact that there is only one press chamber per court also means that a single judge, the presiding judge, has an outsized influence on the treatment of press law at that court.

Also contributing to forum shopping is the fact that many of the more important cases in press law are argued by a small number of attorneys who specialize in press law. As a result, a few attorneys interact repeatedly with a small number of judges, allowing attorneys to learn how individual judges deal with recurring issues in press law and to predict how outcomes are likely to differ from court to court.

In recent years, forum shopping in press law has been the subject of an intense debate between defenders of the status quo and proponents of venue reform. Those who favor venue reform argue that forum shopping has created a system that unfairly favors plaintiffs,[150] and some commentators even argue that this renders press-law venue rules unconstitutional.[151] In 2009, the Federal Ministry of Justice considered the need for the reform of venue rules and the rules governing ex parte injunctions in press law.[152] During the legislative process, a proposal to restrict venue choice in press law (and in unfair competition more generally) was dropped. Still, the Federal Parliament, when voting on the final legislative proposal,[153] expressly requested the government to reconsider restricting venue choice in press law cases.[154] A similar request was made by the state ministers of justice in 2016.[155] It remains to be seen whether these initiatives will result in legislative action.[156]

Several factors are particularly important to lawyers in deciding where to bring a press case, including the willingness of judges to issue preliminary injunctions ex parte, the ability to receive non-binding rulings, the speed of the court’s decisionmaking, and the court’s general pro-plaintiff tendencies. Because of the plaintiffs’ ability to select the venue from among all regional courts in Germany, it is not surprising that the courts that attract large numbers of cases appear to be particularly plaintiff friendly on all or most of these dimensions.

1.  Ex Parte Preliminary Injunctions

One of the most disturbing aspects of German press law—and arguably one of the most troubling consequences of the flexible venue rulesis the willingness of judges at major press law chambers to grant preliminary injunctions without giving the defendant an opportunity to be heard. This practice recently caught the attention of the Federal Constitutional Court, which in two 2018 decisions found that aspects of this practice violated the constitutional rights of the defendant.[157] Before these decisions, the defendant often had no ability to inform the judges of reasons the injunction should not be issued. Because many press cases are time sensitive, the ability to challenge or appeal a preliminary injunction after it was issued does not provide a meaningful remedy. 

The recent decisions of the Federal Constitutional Court confirm the analysis in this section, nearly all of which was written before those decisions came out. The Federal Constitutional Court agreed that the practice of the dominant press law courts was unfair and contrary to the law. While the Court did not try to explain why some German courts had adopted an unfair and unjustified practice, as discussed below, the most plausible explanation is competition for cases or forum selling.

Individuals mostly enforce their rights by asking a court to issue an injunction against a media outlet that is about to publish or has published content infringing her rights.[158] Section 937(2) of the German Code of Civil Procedure ordinarily requires judges to hold an oral hearing before issuing a preliminary injunction. Only in urgent cases (in dringenden Fällen) can judges dispense with a hearing or any other opportunity to respond.[159] Although section 937(2) envisions ex parte injunctions as exceptional, major press law venues routinely decided cases without holding oral hearings. Judges could give the defendant the opportunity to respond in writing, telephonically, or in some other way.[160] Instead, at least until the intervention by the Federal Constitutional Court, after the plaintiff filed for a preliminary injunction, the plaintiff and the judge often discussed the issues on the phone without the defendant being involved, and the judge then decided whether to issue the requested injunction. Even when judges took several weeks to issue an injunction, which would seem to provide ample time for the defendant to be heard, some courts did not give the defendant a hearing or other opportunity to present evidence or legal argument.[161] Although ex parte communication between judges and lawyers is neither uncommon nor prohibited in Germany, deciding injunctions without input from the party to be enjoined is clearly problematic, especially when there was time to do so.

Plaintiffs have a strong preference for quick proceedings, and the time required to decide a motion for a preliminary injunction depends largely on a judge’s decision whether to hold an oral hearing. Therefore, the ability to obtain a preliminary injunction without an oral hearing is one of the most important factors for plaintiffs in deciding where to bring a case. As one lawyer stated:

Those chambers, those courts that I just mentioned, they decide without holding an oral hearing. This is extremely important. . . . For this reason, these courts are absolutely superior.[162]

Another indication of the importance of ex parte injunctions is the rise of Cologne as an important venue for press litigation. Until 2002, judges in Cologne usually issued preliminary injunctions only after holding an oral hearing. During that time, Cologne heard only a small number of press cases. When a new presiding judge took office, she changed this practice and started regularly issuing preliminary injunctions without giving the defendant the opportunity to respond. As a consequence, the number of cases increased substantially.[163] In contrast, interviewees report that other courts still routinely hold oral proceedings.[164] This may explain why these courts are shunned by experienced plaintiffs’ lawyers in press cases. Overall, it seems reasonable to conclude that forum shopping was, until very recently, why most press-law preliminary injunctions were issued by judges who routinely dispensed with the requirement that they hold an oral hearing.

The fact that, as a result of pervasive forum shopping, defendants in many cases had no genuine opportunity to respond to a motion for preliminary injunction is problematic.[165] The opportunity to be heard prior to adverse judicial action is one of the most basic procedural rights[166] and is one of the principal safeguards against unjust or ill-informed decisions.[167] In fact, in September 2018, the German Federal Constitutional Court decided two constitutional complaints challenging the practice of the regional courts in Hamburg and Cologne, which issued preliminary injunctions in press law cases without giving the defendant the opportunity to respond.[168] In a move that at least partly outlaws this practice, the Federal Constitutional Court ruled that courts in principle must give defendants an opportunity to respond to motions for preliminary injunction even if they dispense with an oral hearing.[169] In addition, defendants must be informed about ex parte communication between judges and the plaintiff’s lawyers.[170]

While even before the ruling by the German Constitutional Court, defendants had some opportunities to prevent issuance of preliminary injunctions or to challenge them afterwards, these mechanisms were inadequate. The defendant, for example, can try to prevent an unjust ruling by filing a protection letter (Schutzschrift) before the preliminary injunction is issued. These letters explain the defendant’s view of the facts and the law and are filed in a central registry.[171] All courts that receive a motion for preliminary injunction are required to consult the registry to see whether a protection letter has been filed, and judges must take the arguments in the letter into account when considering whether to grant the preliminary injunction.[172]

Nevertheless, the ability of a defendant to file a protection letter provides only a partial remedy to the problems posed by ex parte preliminary injunctions.[173] First, the defendant may not even know that the plaintiff is likely to seek a preliminary injunction and therefore may not realize the need to file a protection letter. In most cases, a defendant will only learn about a plaintiff’s intent to request a preliminary injunction through a cease and desist letter. While some courts generally accept requests for preliminary injunctions only after such a letter is filed, other courts do not consider such a letter to be a pre-requisite to issuing a preliminary injunction. By not requiring a cease and desist letter, those courts make it difficult for the defendant to anticipate when a preliminary injunction will be requested and thus make it nearly impossible for defendants to inform the judge of their side of the case through a protection letter. For this reason, one commentator argued that it is generally illegal to issue an ex parte preliminary injunction when the defendant has not been sent a cease and desist letter.[174]

Second, the defendant’s ability to file a protection letter may not allow the opportunity to present a persuasive defense because the defendant may not know the arguments put forward in the plaintiff’s motion. Therefore, the defendant might not be able to address and respond to all relevant arguments. In cases where the plaintiff sends a cease and desist letter prior to filing for a preliminary injunction, the defendant may be in a better position because such letters usually contain at least a rough outline of the plaintiff’s arguments. Nevertheless, such letters are not an adequate substitute, because they may not contain all of the plaintiff’s arguments and substantiating evidence. In addition, as mentioned above, the defendant might not receive a cease and desist letter prior to issuance of the preliminary injunction.

The law also offers defendants a number of ways to ask the same court or higher courts to review a preliminary injunction. If a judge issues a preliminary injunction ex parte, the defendant can challenge it later and request a hearing in front of the same judge.[175] Preliminary injunctions can then be appealed to the regional court of appeals, but not to the Federal Court of Justice.[176] In addition, the defendant can force the plaintiff to have the injunction confirmed in principal proceedings, which would make the injunction appealable to the Federal Court of Justice.[177]

Like the ability to file a protection letter, these remedies do not fix the problems posed by ex parte preliminary injunctions. The most important reason is the time-sensitive nature of press law cases. Media outlets are seldom interested in publishing after the time prohibited by the preliminary injunction, unless the case involves a disputed legal issue that might be important in future cases. Defendants therefore rarely appeal a preliminary injunction or force a plaintiff to request confirmation of the injunction in principal proceedings.

In addition, the opportunity to request an oral hearing after the preliminary injunction has been issued does not offer an effective remedy, in part because the oral hearing would ordinarily be held before the same judge who issued the ex parte preliminary injunction. Judges who grant preliminary injunctions are naturally reluctant to overturn their own decisions. Interviewees noted that at least some judges are reluctant to change their mind unless the hearing reveals that the plaintiff concealed major facts of the case. Moreover, if an oral hearing is held after an injunction has been issued, appellate courts will ordinarily not review the prior decision to grant the preliminary injunction ex parte. Any violation of the right to be heard is considered to be “cured” by the later oral hearing.[178]

Finally, the law attempts to protect a defendant by making the plaintiff strictly liable for any damages caused by a preliminary injunction that is later revoked, and by giving the judge the ability to require the plaintiff to post a bond.[179] For press law defendants, these rules offer no meaningful protection. Because it is extremely difficult to measure the harm caused by enforcing a preliminary injunction, defendants almost never sue for damages after the preliminary injunction is rescinded, and judges usually do not require the plaintiff to post a bond.[180]

2.  Informal Notice of Likely Decisions

As noted above, until very recently, judges at all major press law venues usually decided whether to grant preliminary injunctions after discussing the case informally with the plaintiff’s lawyers, often by telephone. This opened up the possibility of a particularly aggressive kind of forum shopping. A judge who was unconvinced by the plaintiff’s arguments would often inform the lawyer of her concerns and offer the lawyer the opportunity to withdraw the motion. The plaintiff might then file for a preliminary injunction in another court.[181] This procedure essentially allowed the plaintiff to shop for the court most likely to grant a preliminary injunction.

3.  Speed

As noted above, press cases are often time-sensitive, so speed matters for plaintiffs. Plaintiffs seek preliminary injunctions to prevent the publication or distribution of particular content. Naturally, for a preliminary injunction to have any effect, it must be obtained before the allegedly illegal content has been broadly distributed. All major venues in press law are willing and able to issue preliminary injunctions within a couple of days.[182] In some cases, plaintiffs have been able to obtain a preliminary injunction against a TV station only a few hours after the TV station announced its intent to broadcast a report later the same day.

Judges at major press law venues take active measures to ensure their ability to act quickly on requests for preliminary injunctions. Unlike many other judges, judges in press law make sure to be at court during normal working hours. German judges enjoy wide latitude as to when and where to work, as long as they do not have to attend oral hearings or chamber meetings. As a result, many judges frequently work at home, where they may be unable to respond in timely fashion to issues that arise. Judges in press law, however, make sure to be reachable at the courthouse during business hours. Attorneys sometimes call judges prior to filing for a preliminary injunction to discuss whether the judges will be available to decide the case within the desired time period. The speediness of a preliminary injunction also depends on court staff being present to issue enforceable copies of the injunction.

More experienced judges are also able to decide cases more quickly. While plaintiffs prefer experienced judges for many reasons, including greater predictability, it usually takes less time and effort for the attorney to obtain a decision from an experienced judge. Inexperienced judges usually need time to acquaint themselves with the relevant case law, and attorneys report that they have to spend more time and effort arguing their case. As one attorney put it:

I am sold down the river if I go to a court which does not do press law at all, which has not internalized the complex case law of the Federal Court of Justice. . . . There are lots of topics with which one has to be familiar. In particular, in a preliminary proceeding in which, in order to effectively enforce personality rights, I want to obtain quick protection for the person affected, sometimes within hours, I need judges who know the topic.[183]

The desire for experienced judges gives an advantage to courts that already have large caseloads. Nevertheless, the emergence of Cologne as a major press venue after 2002 suggests that courts that previously did not have a large caseload can overcome that disadvantage by making themselves attractive in other ways.

4.  Pro-Plaintiff Decisionmaking

Plaintiffs also prefer judges who interpret substantive law in a way that favors the plaintiff. Many decisions in press law turn on a balancing of interests. Courts must decide, in a particular case, between freedom of the press and the privacy and reputation of individuals. Attorneys perceive some judges as being more plaintiff-friendly than others in that they give more weight to the interests of the individuals involved. In the words of one attorney:

In press law, there are a couple of courts that have a reputation for their specialization in press law. And among these there are some courts that have a reputation for being particularly friendly towards the affected individual. . . . [T]here are two courts, Berlin and Hamburg, . . . which have a reputation for being pro-plaintiff, because if I want to sue a media outlet as a plaintiff, then it is classic thinking of attorneys that I go to Berlin or to Hamburg because of their reputation for being plaintiff friendly . . . .[184]

Note that judges are not necessarily perceived as equally plaintiff friendly in all kinds of cases. For example, a judge might be particularly solicitous of plaintiffs in cases involving reports on criminal investigations,[185] or might be prone to awarding particularly high amounts of damages. Nevertheless, all judges at chambers that hear a large number of press law cases are overall perceived as plaintiff friendly.[186]

Uwe Jürgens has shown that decisions decided by major press law chambers are reversed by the Federal Court of Justice at unusually high rates, and that defendants initiate a higher number of successful appeals than plaintiffs.[187] This difference in reversal rates suggests a pro-plaintiff bias in the lower court.

Although the Federal Court of Justice has the ability to correct some of the decisions of the major press law courts, it is not able to fully counteract lower court biases.[188] The most important reason, as discussed above, is that many press cases are time sensitive, so defendants often have no incentive to pursue the lengthy process of appeal to the highest court. Another reason is that the Federal Court of Justice decides only legal issues and must defer to the facts found by the lower courts. Finally, the amount in controversy requirement for appellate review makes some press cases unreviewable.[189]

5.  Attorneys Fees

In some cases, it can be attractive for attorneys to file the case at a court that is known for setting the amount in controversy relatively high, because attorneys representing plaintiffs in minor cases are often not paid by the hour. Instead, they earn the statutory fee, which is paid by the defendant if the plaintiff wins. The size of this fee depends on the amount in controversy.[190] In press cases, where damages are subjective and uncertain, the judge has considerable discretion in determining the amount in controversy.

6.  Quality and Predictability

As in patent law, the quality of decisions matters, too. The regional court in Hamburg, while being perceived as somewhat slower than other courts, is known for its well-reasoned and consistent judgments. Plaintiffs also prefer judges with substantial experience, whose decisions, in addition to being quicker, are more predictable.[191]

C.  Forum Selling?

There are a number of facts indicating that judges and court officials adjust their handling of cases in order to increase the number of press cases brought before their court. That is, in addition to forum shopping, there may also be forum selling.[192] The most important facts pointing to forum selling are the troubling practices discussed in the prior section. Would judges be so eager to issue preliminary injunctions ex parte if they were not actively trying to attract more cases? Would they not at least require plaintiffs to deliver cease and desist letters before (or at least simultaneously with) requesting a preliminary injunction? Would they not try to involve defendants in informal discussions of preliminary injunctions or at least inform them of the issues? These, and other procedures that are in no way mandated by law or precedent but that seem biased in the plaintiff’s direction, are hard to explain as anything other than attempts to attract more cases.

In addition, some lawyers perceive judges and court administrators as trying to attract cases. Motives to do so include the fact that press cases are interesting to judges but not time-consuming, bring publicity to the court, and generate fee revenue.

1.  The Perception of Forum Selling

Some interviewees opined that judges and court administrators, particularly in the regional courts in Cologne and Frankfurt, are deliberately trying to attract more cases. In the words of one attorney:

I have a feeling that it could be like that in Cologne . . . , because it is trying to position itself as a press law venue . . . and then try to attract cases, because a quick reactionone just has to increase the amount in controversy, and it becomes more attractive. . . . And at the moment Frankfurt, they are coming, one has the feeling that they also sort of enjoy these cases.[193]

Another attorney stated:

My impression is that Cologne discovered that as a business model. . . . I do believe that the regional court in Cologne realized that there was a lot of money behind this. Because as a judge or a court, one can quickly make money.[194]

2.  Incentives to Forum Sell

It seems reasonable to infer that both individual judges and court administrators have an incentive to increase the number of press law cases filed at their court. There are a number of reasons why press law is an attractive field for judges to work in. First, it is considered an interesting area of the law, and judges seem to like working in this field. As in patent law, while an increase in case numbers will lead to an increase in a judge’s workload in the short run, the court administration has the ability to divert nonpress cases to other judges in order to avoid congestion in the press chamber. This means that a judge who successfully attracts more press law cases will, in the long run, be able to hear more press law cases and fewer cases from other fields. Second, unlike in patent law, cases in press law are relatively uniform and do not require complex fact-finding. This implies that judges might be able to decide large numbers of cases without strain. This, in turn, is important because judges are evaluated and promoted partly based on the number of cases they dispose of. In the words of one attorney:

I have the impression that press chambers are highly attractive for judges as a place to work. It is an interesting subject. These are quick procedures, many procedures. This leads to a high number of closed cases in the department. For starters, this is attractive for judges.[195]

There are also some indications that court administrators are interested in attracting more press law cases to their courts, perhaps for the media attention such cases bring. One attorney reported being approached by the former president of a regional court of appeals, who asked about the reputation of the local courts in press law and about the reasons plaintiffs chose one court over the other:

[I]f a court has a recognized press chamber, it gains reputation. This leads to a certain name recognition, because the press, of course, loves to write about cases concerning itself. . . . This means that this is attractive in this sense, and I also seem to understand from occasional statements that the presidents of the courts are interested in this. I have heard something like that very clearly from the former president of the court of appeals, who casually inquired about the reputation of the regional court and the court of appeals and who wanted to know why people go [here or elsewhere]. This was very clear indeed.[196]

As is apparent from this quote, courts’ interest in press law may be tied to concerns about reputation. Court administrators might also be interested in press cases because of the revenue they generate from court fees. Although the amount in controversy is usually much lower than, for example, in patent law, substantial revenue may still be generated because of the high number of cases and the relative ease with which they can be decided.[197]

3.  Alternative Explanations

Nevertheless, there is no conclusive evidence of forum selling in press law. The observed phenomena are compatible with the hypothesis that judges differ in their views about the correct interpretation of the law and about the proper handling of press cases. Considerations related to caseloads may play little or no role. In most of our interviews, when asked directly, our interviewees asserted that judges did not act strategically. In addition, examples of courts that took a more defendant-friendly approach towards handling cases after a change in the composition of the chamber responsible for press law strongly suggest that, if forum selling exists, it is not a universal phenomenon.

Even if judges are not actively seeking more cases, the broad venue rules which enable nationwide forum shopping are problematic. These rules allow plaintiffs to litigate in the most plaintiff-friendly courts in the nation. This means that a handful of judges and courts decide the overwhelming majority of press law cases and do so in a way that seems excessively pro-plaintiff. Even if the variation in judicial treatment of press law cases were motivated entirely by good-faith interpretation of the relevant laws and precedents, it is troubling that venue rules empower the judges who happen to take the most pro-plaintiff positions and that defendants must conform to their views. Even more worrisome, many important German press courts seem to have moved to an equilibrium of granting ex-parte injunctions and denying defendants their right to be hearda situation that became so problematic that the German Federal Constitutional Court had to intervene in the fall of 2018. This is especially troublesome in press law, where a pro-plaintiff position is one that limits the public’s access to information. While the recent decisions by the Constitutional Court will likely lead to a decrease in ex-parte injunctions, it remains to be seen how this will affect competition between courts in press law.

V.  Forum Selling in German Antitrust Litigation

A.  Introduction

While U.S. and European antitrust law generally share common goals, until recently they have relied on different enforcement mechanisms. American antitrust law has traditionally relied on a complex mix of private lawsuits and public enforcement by the Department of Justice and the Federal Trade Commission. In both the European Union and in its individual member states, antitrust laws have traditionally been enforced solely by public antitrust agencies. Enforcement by private parties only became a significant part of European antitrust law after a decision of the European Court of Justice in the 2001,[198] the European Union Council Regulation 1/2003,[199] and a European Commission white paper in 2008.[200]

The typical way private parties enforce the prohibition against cartels[201] is to file a follow-on damage lawsuit. Once a European antitrust authority has determined that companies have engaged in an illegal cartel, a customer of a cartel member can file a lawsuit claiming damage for supracompetitive prices the customer had to pay for goods produced by the cartel.[202]

Within Germany, plaintiffs in such follow-on lawsuits have considerable leeway in deciding where to file their lawsuit. Twenty-four regional courts have jurisdiction to hear antitrust follow-on damage cases.[203] The cartel member may be sued at its seat of incorporation or where the tort was committed.[204] The phrase “where the tort was committed” is commonly interpreted not only to cover the place where the tortfeasor acted, but also where the protected legal interest (i.e. competition) was harmed. In follow-on damage lawsuits concerning nation-wide cartels, that means the plaintiff can usually sue in any court district in which the overpriced product was sold. This often allows plaintiffs to sue in any of the twenty-four courts with subject matter jurisdiction.

The regional courts typically have a specialized chamber for antitrust cases (Frankfurt has two chambers). This not only allows judges to develop expertise, but it also enables plaintiffs to predict with some certainty which judges will hear their case. Even if the judge with primary responsibility is chosen randomly from among the judges in the chamber,[205] the presiding judge of the chamber has a large influence. As a result, the plaintiff can predict the judge who will have the largest sway over the case with certainty (by suing in a court with one antitrust chamber) or fifty percent probability (by suing in a court with two antitrust chambers).

B.  Forum Selling?

Our interviewees consistently assert that plaintiffs strategically choose the venue to file their follow-on damage lawsuits. Important factors driving this decision are whether the court handles its follow-on proceedings in a speedy and effective manner. The experience of the court handling such cases is also important.

The main challenge for plaintiffs in antitrust follow-on damage lawsuits is satisfying its evidentiary burden. According to general principles of German civil procedure, the plaintiff must prove: (1) that a cartel existed; (2) the particular cartel in question caused prices to increase in general; (3) the cartel had a negative impact on the plaintiff in particular; and (4) the precise damages caused by the cartel.

Proving the existence of the cartel is not difficult for the plaintiff, as the German Cartel Office or the European Commission has usually determined this element in their previous public proceeding against the cartel, and their determinations are binding on the courts.[206] Proving the other three elements is challenging. Given the limited information the plaintiff usually has and the restrictive discovery afforded by German courts, it is nearly impossible for the plaintiff to provide sufficient evidence.

Regional courts in Germany have recognized the plaintiff’s evidentiary problems and started to create rules to facilitate proof. In particular, they created rules of prima facie evidence (Anscheinsbeweis) by which, if public authorities have proven the existence of a cartel, it is assumed that the cartel caused a general price increase and that this price increase had a negative impact on the plaintiff, thus satisfying the second and third requirements for a follow-on suit.[207] Courts also ruled that provisions in a sales contract between a cartel member and the future plaintiff, according to which any antitrust-related damages would be assessed at 15% of the sales price, are enforceable under German contract law, thus addressing the fourth requirement.[208] If a court recognizes these rules of prima facie evidence and enforces contractual fixed-rate damage provisions, it is much easier for plaintiffs to win a follow-on lawsuit.

Interestingly for our purposes, different courts have embraced these procedural twists with different speed and enthusiasm. There is a perception that some courts are more willing to help plaintiffs by shifting burdens of proofs than others.[209] The first court to apply the prima facie evidence rule was the regional court of Dortmund in 2004.[210] Many other regional courts have adopted similar rules since then.[211] One of our interview partners confirmed that differences between courts with regard to evidentiary rules influences plaintiffs’ decisions where to file an antitrust follow-on lawsuit.

The regional court of Mannheim seems to play a special role. This court was consistently named as a plaintiff-friendly venue. One of our interviewees noted a “sensational” (aufsehenerregend) decision in which the court affirmed the enforceability of contractual fixed-rate damage provisions.[212] As one attorney noted:

[In this decision], the court used a double prima facie evidence argument in favor of the plaintiff. . . . This is, of course, a very far reaching evidentiary ruling. If, in addition, you also have this fifteen percent clause in the contract, that’s a safe bet for the plaintiff, isn’t it? And there are many unresolved legal issues where a bright judge, with a creative, solid, well-founded decision, can make a splash.[213]

The interviewee explained that judges in this court seem to care about their reputation in antitrust follow-on proceedings. He told us that, in response to a standard motion to extend a deadline which he had filed in that court, the responsible judge told him:

You know, we are known to schedule proceedings in a speedy manner. We do not want to delay proceedings. We have a reputation to lose.[214]

Antitrust litigation in Mannheim may benefit from spillovers from the court’s prominent role in patent proceedings. In Mannheim, the two chambers that traditionally heard antitrust cases were the same chambers that hear patent cases.[215] The long-time presiding judge of the Mannheim seventh chamber had gained an excellent reputation in patent law, and one interviewee attributed his handling of antitrust follow-on proceedings to his experience in patent law. When the Mannheim regional court created a specialized chamber for antitrust cases in the fall of 2018, this was announced in a press release, in which the minister of justice of the State Baden-Württemberg praised the court as an important economic and legal location factor for the state.[216] The justice ministry also re-appointed a well-known presiding judge from one of Mannheim’s patent chambers to the new antitrust chamber, thereby ensuring that Mannheim’s experience with complex litigation is carried over from patent to antitrust law.

Interviewees deemed other regional courts less plaintiff-friendly than Mannheim. These less-friendly courts include the courts in Kiel, Leipzig and Düsseldorf, as well as the court in Munich. Case management also differs between courts, and Mannheim has a reputation for handling cases more efficiently than other courts.[217]

Given our interviews, we cannot conclude, with the possible exception of Mannheim, that there are clear signs of forum selling in German antitrust follow-on litigation. Even the adoption of the evidentiary rules described above does not necessarily mean that the court adopted them in order to attract litigation. As one interviewee pointed out, given the complexity and volume of antitrust follow-on proceedings, relying on such evidentiary rules expedites proceedings and makes them manageable for the judge. Also, introducing evidentiary rules that help the plaintiff may just be the right thing to do in such cases.

Yet, in December 2018, the German Federal Court of Justice overturned the prima facie evidentiary presumption that lower courts had created, that a cartel causes a general price increase and that this price increase has a negative impact on the plaintiff.[218] Similar to the recent intervention of the Federal Constitutional Court concerning ex-parte injunctions in press law, this could be a sign that the highest German civil court thinks that lower courts have become too plaintiff-friendly in antitrust follow-on lawsuits.[219]

Given our findings in patent law, it may be surprising that we do not find clearer signs of forum selling in German antitrust. After all, these lawsuits are often high-profile cases that are widely reported in the press; they could be a welcome change for a judge who ordinarily has to deal with much smaller cases. Judges could position themselves as guardians of competition vis-à-vis parties, their colleagues, and the wider public. Moreover, the amounts in controversy in these cases are often even higher than in patent cases. As one interviewee put it:

[These are] attractive, very attractive cases, one has to say, compared to the kind of cases a civil chamber has to deal with otherwise. A ten million or even 100 million cartel damage claim is a real tidbit, isn’t it? . . . In addition, [these cases] are just exciting, aren’t they? There are tons of unresolved legal questions, which have to be resolved by the German Federal Court of Justice at some point. And, yes, the facts of the case are mostly exciting. Yes, such a cartel is like a kind of organized crime . . . : secret meeting at the Zurich airport, documents in a safe deposit box, communication through private pre-paid cell phones which do not appear on any corporate account. That’s something, no?[220]

Still, our interviews reveal three reasons why there may be little or no forum selling in antitrust law. First, antitrust follow-on damage lawsuits have only recently emerged in Germany and are still relatively rare. According to estimates by one interviewee, only a few hundred follow-on lawsuits have been filed. Almost no court has to date issued a final ruling on damages; instead, most follow-on court decisions to date have dealt only with liability (Grundurteil).[221] As a result, we simply do not know whether regional courts would differ in the amount of damages they award, and it is difficult to say at this point whether particular German courts are unusually plaintiff-friendly.

Second, the incentives of judges to attract such cases is limited. Antitrust follow-on damage proceedings are typically so complex that it is unclear how a judge could handle them in any effective manner. Judges may be scared off by their sheer size and complexity,[222] especially since the German court system does not adequately reward judges’ work on such complex cases. Judicial performance is typically evaluated, in part, on the number of cases a judge resolves. While the court’s internal case management puts different weights on cases from different areas of the law, the weighing of antitrust follow-on lawsuits may not reflect the actual time required to process such cases. Several of our interviewees reported that a judge dealing with antitrust follow-on cases has between eighteen and twenty-three hours available for such cases, and a judge from the regional court of Dortmund has pinned the number generated by the court’s case management system down to nineteen hours and fifty-three minutes. [223] It is practically impossible to deal with an antitrust case in this amount of time. This time constraint not only seriously lowers incentives for judges to become active in such cases. It also prevents them from developing the expertise required to handle such cases effectively, and lowers incentives for junior judges to move to antitrust chambers.

As a result, some interviewees reported clear signs that judges attempt to avoid antitrust follow-on cases. One interviewee told us of a proceeding where, after nearly nine years of litigation, including a preliminary ruling by to the European Court of Justice, he still does not know whether the court of first instance has jurisdiction or not. One attorney told us:

Given the complexity of cartel damage proceedings, a court is highly motivated at the outset to figure out how to get rid of the case.[224]

Third, court administrators typically do not seem interested in attracting antitrust follow-on litigation to their court. Given the size and complexity of antitrust suits, court fees are unlikely to be high enough to offset the costs.[225] Even more importantly, political considerations may play a role. Antitrust follow-on damage lawsuits are often directed against large German companies. As damage awards against cartel members can amount to hundreds of millions or even to billions of euros, the incentive to encourage such lawsuits are limited. Germany taxes business profits with a trade tax. In 2011, this tax generated revenues of €40.5 billion. This tax generated about 49% of the overall tax income for German municipalities.[226] A large damage award against a German cartel member could significantly lower the trade taxes a German company has to pay. One interviewee noted that this may explain why court administrators do not encourage or facilitate antitrust follow-on lawsuits.

In addition, local sympathies work against follow-on damage lawsuits. A good example may be the pan-European truck manufacturing cartel. One interviewee noted that it may be difficult to convince the ministry of justice in Baden-Württemberg to take a hard stance against the car, truck, sugar, or cement industries, as important manufacturers are located in the state.[227] More generally, German politicians have a long history of protecting the automobile industry,[228] as it generates so many high-skilled jobs. This attitude, which seems widespread in German society, could also have an impact on the attitude of German judges and court administrators.

This analysis shows that while there are some signs of national forum selling in antitrust follow-on damage litigation, these signs are weak, and they are limited to one court, Mannheim.

VI.  International Forum Selling

So far, this Article has focused on competition between German courts. Yet forum selling is not necessarily limited to the national level. It can have an international dimension as well. Also, the weak evidence for forum selling in Germany in antitrust law does not mean that forum selling does not take place. Quite the contrary, we find that forum selling in antitrust is Europe-wide. As such, forum selling occurs on the international, rather than intranational level. It is a competition between the courts of the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Germany, and other countries. At the same time, pan-European forum selling is less important in the other legal areas investigated by this Article.

International forum selling differs in many ways from national forum selling. While in national forum selling judges (and, in Germany, court administrators) are the most important actors, in international forum selling national legislators play a more prominent role. In addition, both the substantive and procedural rules may vary across courts, and there is often no institution entrusted with ensuring the uniform application of rules in different fora.[229]

A.  Antitrust Law

Antitrust follow-on damage litigation has a strong international component. Cartels often involve member companies from different countries within the European Union. The Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) has confirmed that in such cases, a plaintiff may choose one cartel member as an “anchor defendant” and may sue several cartel members at the anchor defendant’s domicile, even if the other companies are domiciled in other E.U. member states.[230] Article 6(3)(b)(2) of the Rome II Convention[231] enables the plaintiff to sue cartel members jointly and severally in the anchor defendant’s domicile not only for damages that occurred in that E.U. member state, but for all damages in the entire European Union.[232] That is, if a company has been harmed by a cartel whose members are domiciled in Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and Finland, the plaintiff can choose to sue in any of those four countries. If it chooses Germany and the anchor defendant resides in a city over which the court has jurisdiction, this court can order the German, Dutch, British, and Finnish cartel members to compensate the plaintiff for all the damages the cartel caused to the plaintiff in any of the twenty-eight member states of the European Union. As a result, courts from different member states are in direct competition in antitrust follow-on damage lawsuits.[233]

In this Europe-wide competition, German courts do not fare well.[234] The strongest competitors are the United Kingdom and the Netherlands.[235] Finland is also attractive due to low court and translation costs, highly skilled and motivated judges, and speedy proceedings. While, according to one our interviewees, Germanys offers a highly nuanced and predictable jurisprudence, the German court system has serious disadvantages: limited flexibility as to the language in which documents are submitted,[236] lack of information-technology savviness, and higher costs.[237]

Dutch proceedings are attractive due to their significantly lower costs.[238] According to one interviewee, a Dutch proceeding may cost only €70,000 in court fees for a case that includes two appeals. Dutch judges also engage in more active case management than their German counterparts in order to ensure that cases proceed in a speedy and efficient way.

Courts in the United Kingdom are also an attractive venue for follow-on litigation.[239] American plaintiffs find the United Kingdom particularly hospitable because of the similarity between the American and English legal systems and the availability of discovery.[240] The United Kingdom even created a specialized courtthe Competition Appeal Tribunalto attract such litigation. Despite its name, this court acts as a trial court for antitrust follow-on lawsuits. The Tribunal has not only ensured that judges are experienced in antitrust matters, it has also increased their incentive to attract cases. Following reforms in the Consumer Rights Act of 2015, U.K. law now also features a specialized opt-out class-action mechanism for antitrust law.[241]

Nevertheless, the United Kingdom is not always the ideal venue for antitrust follow-on litigation. The main disadvantage of British proceedings are the immense cost and time of discovery. More generally, proceedings in the United Kingdom are perceived as slow. Furthermore, given the uncertainty generated by Brexit, it is unclear whether U.K. judgments will continue to be enforceable in other E.U. member states. If the United Kingdom leaves the European Union without a treaty requiring the enforcement of U.K. judgments, this could severely impede the ability of U.K. courts to attract pan-European antitrust follow-on litigation.[242]

Comparing the attitudes of court administrators towards antitrust follow-on lawsuits between Germany and the United Kingdom, several interviewees noted that service industries—including legal servicesare an important factor in the United Kingdom both economically and politically. The U.K. government is pushing London as a legal services hub, just as it is pushing the city as a financial hub. According to one interviewee, legislators in the United Kingdom and the Netherlands actively attempt to attract as many antitrust lawsuits as possible. In contrast, German legislators simply do not see litigation as a business opportunity perhaps, as discussed further below, because they fear the impact of antitrust on German manufacturing, which they consider more important than services.[243]

Taken together, our interviews reveal that there are strong signs in antitrust of legislatively-backed forum selling on a European level.

B.  Patent and Press Law

Patent litigation also has a European dimension.[244] Particularly in patent litigation battles that involve global companies and products, litigants can choose among a range of possible venues. Important European countries for patent litigation include Germany, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and France.[245]

Nevertheless, the degree to which courts in these countries compete with each other is limited. As described above, antitrust plaintiffs can recover damages that occurred in the entire European Union through a suit in a single European court.[246] Therefore, judgments by courts from different countries can be seen as close substitutes. This is not true for patent law. In most cases, a court can de facto only issue an injunction against the sale of an infringing product in its own jurisdiction. Similarly, it can generally only grant damages for harm that occurred in that jurisdiction.[247] Therefore, a company might need to sue in several jurisdictions in order to fully enforce its right.

The venue decision also turns on considerations that are unrelated to a court’s efforts to attract business, such as the size of the local market. An injunction against distributing a product in a large market is likely to require design and/or manufacturing changes that will, because of economies of scale, affect smaller markets as well, while an injunction in a small country is less likely to have cross border influence. As a result, courts from different European countries are in less direct competition with each other in patent litigation than they are in antitrust follow-on damage litigation.[248]

In accordance with this view, our interviewees generally reported that the German patent system faces limited competitive pressure from neighboring jurisdictions. Suing in Germany is attractive in part because the German market is so large that an injunction against distribution in Germany is likely to terminate the product, to require substantial redesign, or to force the defendant to negotiate a license. Still, interviewees mostly claim the speed and the low cost[249] as well as the highquality of the German legal system are the main reasons that Germany attracts the highest number of patent cases in Europe.[250] Compared to their counterparts in other European countries, German patent courts may also be attractive because they are reluctant to stay infringement proceedings pending the outcome of parallel nullification proceedings. As discussed above, the bifurcated patent system in Germany means that courts in infringement actions do not consider challenges to the validity of a patent, so they can proceed more swiftly.[251]

Outside antitrust and patent law, European forum selling seems to play an even lesser role. In press law, for example, German media publish mostly in German for a German audience. As a result, plaintiffs do not consider courts in other jurisdictions to be a viable alternative to the German courts.

VII.  Generalizing from the Case Studies

While each area of law is different, it is possible to make some generalizations. In some ways forum selling is similar in the United States and Germany, but in other ways it is very different.

A.  Similarities to Forum Selling in the United States

1.  Broad Plaintiff Choice of Forum

The key similarity between the United States and Germany is the importance of permissive venue rules that give plaintiffs the ability to sue in almost any court. Both countries had rules in patent that allowed the plaintiff to sue anywhere a product was sold, which, for most patents of any significance, gave plaintiffs the ability to sue anywhere. In both Germany and the United States, such liberal venue rules led to the clearest examples of forum selling. In the United States, one district, the Eastern District of Texas, actively encouraged cases and was able to garner over a quarter of all patent filings, although a recent Supreme Court decision may end its dominance.[252] In Germany, Düsseldorf and Mannheim have actively competed for patent cases. Venue rules in other areas of potential forum selling, such as press law and antitrust, have also been interpreted to give plaintiffs wide choice of forum.

2.  The Importance of Procedure

In both Germany and the United States, the differences that make some courts more attractive than others are primarily procedural rather than substantive. In both the United States and Germany, key factors in patent litigation are speed and the reluctance of judges to stay proceeding pending decision on patent validity by another administrative or judicial body. Similarly, in press law, speed and the ability to procure ex parte injunctions are crucial factors.

The fact that competition between courts usually relates to procedure rather than substance reflects the less stringent review of procedural decisions. In both the United States and Germany, decision relating to substantive law are generally reviewed rigorously (de novo). In contrast, many procedural decisions are viewed as within the discretion of the judge of first instance and reviewed deferentially. In the United States, most procedural decisions are reviewed for abuse of discretion. In Germany, while not all procedural norms grant a judge discretion, those that do are, reversed only if there is a “mistake in the exercise of discretion” (Ermessensfehler), like such decisions in the United States.[253] In addition, in both the United States and Germany, interlocutory appeals are disfavored, so most procedural issues can only be appealed after the case as a whole has been terminated. Finally, procedural mistakes are unlikely to lead to reversal, as decisions are reversed only if they potentially influenced the outcome of the case (in Germany)[254] or are not “harmless” (in the United States).

3.  Judicial Efforts to Enhance Forum or Even Judge Shopping

In both the United States and Germany, judges seem to have enhanced the ability of plaintiffs to get a hearing before the judges of their choice. Deviations from general principles of random case assignment made it easier for plaintiffs to predict which judge will hear their case, and for judges to position themselves strategically. In the Eastern District of Texas, local rules allowed the plaintiff to sue in the courthouse of its choice, and, since there was often only one judge who heard patent cases in that courthouse, the ability to choose the courthouse meant ability to choose the judge. In Germany, the fact that judges in press law preliminary injunction cases would discuss their likely decision with plaintiff’s counsel and allow the plaintiff to withdraw (and sue elsewhere) if the decision was likely to be adverse gave plaintiffs a rather unique ability to select a favorable forum. More generally, as discussed below, specialization in Germany makes it easier for plaintiffs to choose the judge.

4.  Limits of Forum Selling and the Risk of Backlash

While judges on both sides of the Atlantic may have the means and incentives to make their court attractive to plaintiffs, judges cannot sell their forum without limits. If judges stretch rules too far in their attempt to offer an attractive product to plaintiffs, the legislature or higher courts may intervene to reduce differences between different fora or eliminate venue choice altogether.

 In fact, on both sides of the Atlantic, the highest courts have recently limited the ability or extent to which judges can make their court attractive to plaintiffs: over the last two years, the U.S. Supreme Court has restricted forum choice in patent law cases, the German Federal Constitutional Court has limited ex parte injunctive relief in press law cases, and the German Federal Court of Justice has restricted prima facie evidence rules favoring plaintiffs in antitrust follow-on lawsuits. While these decisions may not stop forum shopping and forum selling altogether, they show that there are limits on the power of lower court judges and administrators to “sell” their court.

B.  Differences from Forum Selling in the United States

1.  The Importance of Judicial Quality

In both the United States and Germany, defenders of courts that succeed in the competition for cases argue that those courts attract cases by offering higher quality adjudications rather than by being biased toward the plaintiff. In the United States, those claims did not bear much scrutiny. For example, if the Eastern District of Texas was attractive on account of the expertise of its judges, it should have been just as attractive to defendants seeking declaratory judgment as to plaintiffs. Yet defendants almost never chose the Eastern District of Texas.[255]

In contrast, quality decisionmaking seems to be an import feature making some German courts more attractive than others. The most popular patent and press courts are respected for the quality of their decisions. Nevertheless, at least for the highest quality courts, there sometimes seems to be a tradeoff between quality and speed: if a party wants a high-quality decision in patent or press law, it may choose a different court than if it wants a fast decision.

Some of the innovations that make particular German courts attractive are also plausibly good rather than simply pro-plaintiff. In antitrust, the evidentiary rules that facilitate follow-on lawsuits seem to be warranted in cases where a public authority has already proven wrongful conduct and where more stringent procedures would mire judges and lawyers in costly and complex proceedings. Similarly, although speed often benefits plaintiffs (particularly in press cases), it is also true that, all other things equal, faster is better than slower.

2.  Specialization Facilitates Forum Selling

Forum shopping and thus forum selling in Germany is made easier by judicial specialization.[256] In the United States, even if one or two judges would like to hear more of a particular kind of case, it is difficult for plaintiffs to be sure their case will be heard by those judges, because most U.S. judges are part of courts with more than a dozen judges, and cases are generally assigned randomly. So, in most circumstances, a plaintiff has no more than a five or ten percent chance of getting a particular judge. In contrast, in Germany, specialized judges generally sit in chambers consisting of only three judges, and all cases of the relevant kind will be assigned to that chamber (or to one of two or three chambers with that specialization).[257] In addition, the dominant influence of the presiding judge ensures that cases assigned to that chambers are likely to be treated similarly no matter which judge actually takes primary responsibility.

Specialization also facilitates forum selling, because it requires coordination among fewer judges. If a U.S. court wants to acquire a reputation as being plaintiff friendly in a particular area, all (or most) of the dozen or more judges on the court must agree. Agreement among such a large group is difficult. In contrast, in Germany, agreement is only necessary among the three judges in the relevant chamber, and agreement is made easier by the outsized influence of the presiding judge.

3.  The Importance of Administration

Court administrators also play a larger role in making some German courts more attractive. The ministry of justice, because of its connection to the government and political parties, has a greater interest in issues such as regional economic development and court revenue than individual judges. When attracting a particular kind of case, such as patent cases, seems likely to benefit the local economy, to increase the state’s reputation, or to bring in fee revenue, the court administration can allocate judges and other resources to that kind of case.

Each court’s executive committee can also play an important role by setting up chambers specializing in areas they want to attract cases. In addition, by reallocating other cases or establishing a second chamber with the same specialization, the executive committee can ensure that judges who are successful in attracting more cases are not overwhelmed by their caseloads. In fact, through its promotion policies, the ministry of justice can ensure that successful judges are rewarded.

4.  Political Economy

Unlike in the United States, there is no separate court system at the federal and the state level in Germany. All courts apply the relevant federal and state law to the cases they hear. Yet, regional courts and courts of appealthe two kinds of courts that are of primary interest in this Articleare established, managed, and financed by each of the sixteen states. German states compete against each other on many dimensions. Because the judicial system is largely managed at the state level, courts can de facto become part of the competitive positioning of a state against other states in the German federation. Conversely, when overly aggressive courts would undermine the competitiveness of local industry or the prospects of state politicians, court administrators at the state level have both the ability and incentive to ensure that courts play a more constructive role.

When considering the political economy of German courts, it is important to note that key decisions are made at the state level, not by individual courts and not at the federal level. For example, the promotion of judges is largely a state-level decision, as is the decision to fund new or improved facilities, or to expand the number of judicial positions in a particular court. While court executive committees have the power to create specialized chambers, this requires the diversion of resources from other legal areas. As a result, the decision to create a specialized press chamber or to add a second patent chamber usually requires the cooperation of state-level administrators.

The prevalence of forum selling seems to vary with the incentives of the court administration and the state. We found the most support for forum selling in patent law, weaker evidence in press law, and even less evidence in antitrust litigation. If one considers the incentives of the court administration and the states in which these courts are located, this outcome is not surprising. If a politician wants to advance her state in competition with other German states, it seems highly promising to promote major cities in her state (such as Düsseldorf in North Rhine-Westphalia) as innovation hubs that are supported by respected patent litigation courts.

It is much less attractive for a politician to push local courts in press or antitrust law. If courts become important litigation hubs in press law, the politician may jeopardize his good relationship with local and national media outlets that may be hurt by the courts. Similarly, if courts become important centers for antitrust litigation, the politician may hurt his relationships with manufacturers, which are a particularly important sector of the German economy.

In other words, in patent law, the plaintiffs who benefit from forum selling are inventors (patent owners), and the defendants who are hurt are alleged patent infringers. In press law, the benefiting plaintiffs are often celebrities, and the hurt defendants are German media outlets. In antitrust law, the benefiting plaintiffs are a large number of companies with relatively small damage claims each, while the hurt defendants are large German employers with large damage liabilities. Politically, it is attractive to help the plaintiffs in patent law, but not in press or antitrust law.

Theoretically, one could imagine a court in a small rural district emulating the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Texas and attempting to attract patent or other cases by becoming pro-plaintiff. Based on our interviews, we have found no German court that adopted this strategy. Nor do we deem it likely that any German court would do so for three reasons. First, even a small German regional court is unlikely to be located in areas that are as rural as the Eastern District of Texas. Germany is simply more urban than the United States. There are few sparsely populated areas, and German courts tend to be situated in major cities. Second, the auto industry and other important manufacturers have factories throughout Germany, and much of German media has a national audience. This decreases the likelihood that a judge in a rural regional court would adopt a strategy that could hurt German manufacturing, as it would likely hurt local factories. Similarly, anti-media decisions would likely generate negative press attention that would reach local audiences. Third, and perhaps most importantly, even if an individual judge or court were interested in such a strategy, it would be against the interests of court administrators in the state’s justice ministry, who have the power to decrease funding for the court and to impede the promotion of the judges whose attempts to attract cases might undermine the local economy or the reputation of the courts. Political economy considerations operate strongly at the state level, not solely at the district level. As discussed above, it seems unlikely that a German state would tolerate judicial activity that hurt manufacturing in the state or that resulted in negative press for its politicians.

Conclusion

Judges and court administrators compete for judicial business in Germany, especially in patent and press law cases. They do so for a variety of reasons, including prestige and court revenue. While some ways in which courts compete arguably improve justice by speeding up proceedings and increasing predictability, other ways are more problematic. Failure to stay patent infringement proceedings until validity challenges are resolved by other courts not infrequently subjects patent defendants to unjust infringement judgements based on invalid patents. Similarly, ex parte preliminary injunctions in press cases denies defendants their essential right to be heard. As in the United States, forum selling in Germany is facilitated by loose venue rules that allow most patent, press, and antitrust plaintiffs to sue in any court.

 


[*] *.. Professor of Intellectual Property, Center for Law & Economics, ETH Zurich, Switzerland.

[†] †.. Senior Research Fellow, Max Planck Institute for Research on Collective Goods, Bonn, Germany.

[‡] ‡.. Edward G. Lewis Professor of Law and History, Gould School of Law, University of Southern California, Los Angeles. The authors would like to thank Scott Altman, Konstantin Chatziathanasiou, Luca Enriques, Martin Gelter, Dietmar Harhoff, Stefanie Egidy, Christoph Engel, Michael Gilbert, Michael Halberstam, Orin Kerr, Greg Reilly, John Langbein, Jeff Rachlinski, and David Schwartz, as well as conference participants at the American Law & Economics Conference 2018, the Conference on Empirical Legal Studies 2018, the Economic Analysis of Litigation Conference 2018, the Society for Institutional & Organizational Economics Conference 2018, and seminar participants at Castle Ringberg, the Chicago-Kent Roundtable, ETH Zurich, the Max Planck Institute for Research on Collective Goods (Bonn), Wayne State, New York University, Boston University, and the Universities of Bonn, Glasgow, Oxford and Virginia for helpful feedback. Excellent research, transcription, and translation assistance by Luca Baltensperger, Christine Bircher, Jasmin Büeler, Meike Pauletzki, Helen Reinhart, Daniela Sele, Carlo Sorba, Martin Sternberg, and Miriam Tinner is gratefully acknowledged. In addition, we would like to thank the dozens of attorneys, judges, and court officials we interviewed. Without their insights, this Article could not have been written.

 [1]. See generally Daniel Klerman & Greg Reilly, Forum Selling, 89 S. Cal. L. Rev. 241 (2016) (discussing forum selling in the the United States and early modern England); J. Jonas Anderson, Court Capture, 59 B.C. L. Rev. 1543 (2018) (arguing that the concentration of patent cases in the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Texas is a result of capture by special interests); Gerhard Wagner, The Dispute Resolution Market, 62 Buff. L. Rev. 1085 (2014) (discussing interjurisdictional competition, forum shopping, and the merits of bilateral forum selection).

 [2]. See generally Daniel Klerman, Forum Selling and Domain-Name Disputes, 48 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 561 (2016) (showing that trademark owners select arbitration providers that are more likely to decide cases in their favor in domain name disputes).

 [3]. See generally John Langbein, The German Advantage in Civil Procedure, 52 U. Chi. L. Rev. 823 (1985) (identifying the advantages of the German system of civil procedure).

 [4]. Forum selling may also occur in other areas of German law that have flexible venue rules, including trademark, bankruptcy, unfair competition, criminal and labor law, and in cases related to the Internet. While we also gathered some evidence of forum shopping in some of these areas, this Article will focus on patent, press, and antitrust law.

 [5]. See Frank H. Easterbrook & Daniel R. Fischel, The Economic Structure of Corporate Law 217–18 (1991) (arguing for a race to the top).

 [6]. See Lucian Arye Bebchuk, Federalism and the Corporation: The Desirable Limits on State Competition in Corporate Law, 105 Harv. L. Rev. 1435, 1438 (1992) (“[C]ritics of state competition view it as a ‘race for the bottom,’ in which . . . states are driven to offer rules that benefit managers at the expense of shareholders.” (citation omitted)).

 [7]. Local courts (Amtsgerichte) generally have jurisdiction over civil lawsuits with an amount of controversy less than €5,000. See Gerichtsverfassungsgesetz [GVG] [Courts Constitution Act], May 9, 1975, Bundesgesetzblatt, Teil I [BGBl. I] at 1077, as amended by Act of July 12, 2018 BGBl I at 1151, §§ 23, 71 [hereinafter German Courts Constitution Act]. Cases from local courts are appealed to the regional courts and are subject to a second appeal to the Federal Court of Justice.

 [8]. Id. § 119.

 [9]. Id. § 133.

 [10]. Id. § 75. In practice a chamber might consist of more than three judges, and in each individual case a cast of three judges is selected from all the judges in the chamber.

 [11]. All judges in a chamber, including the presiding judge, can act as reporting judge. Allocation is either determined by pre-established rules of the chamber (under which cases are usually assigned quasi-randomly), or by a discretionary decision of the presiding judge. Section 21g of the German Courts Constitution Act, which requires chambers to establish ex-ante rules on which judges will participate in which proceedings, does not mandate rules predetermining the reporting judge for each case. See Brian Valerius, GVG § 21g [Geschäftsverteilung innerhalb der Spruchkörper], in Beck’scher Online-Kommentar 5 (Jürgen-Peter Graf ed., 28th ed. 2017).

 [12]. For example, the presiding judge determines when to hold an oral hearing, and which witnesses to summon before the court. Zivilprozessordnung [ZPO] [Code of Civil Procedure], Dec. 5, 2005, BGBl. I at 3202, as amended by Act of Jan. 31, 2019, BGBl I, 54, art. 1, §§ 272–73 [hereinafter German Code of Civil Procedure].

 [13]. The Federal Constitutional Court, which publishes dissenting opinions, is a notable exception.

 [14]. The allocation of cases to chambers is usually settled at the beginning of a year for the entire year. See German Courts Constitution Act, supra note 7, § 21e.

 [15]. For appeals involving up to €600, the court of first instance has to expressly allow the appeal under some circumstances. See German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 511(2), (4).

 [16]. Id. § 543(1)(1). The regional court of appeals has to allow a decision to be appealed if “the legal matter is of fundamental significance” or “the further development of the law or the interests in ensuring uniform adjudication require a decision” by the Federal Court of Justice. Id. § 543(2).

 [17]. Id. § 544(1); Gesetz, betreffend die Einführung der Zivilprozessordnung [ZPOEG] [Act Concerning the Introduction of the Code of Civil Procedure], Jan. 30, 1877, Reichsgesetzblatt [RGBl] at 244, as amended by Act of June 21, 2018 BGBl I. at 863, § 26(8), https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/zpoeg/index.html. This effectively means that regional courts and courts of appeals can shield their decisions from review by the Federal Court of Justice by not allowing a decision to be appealed, if no potential subject of a complaint by either party exceeds €20,000.

 [18]. Formally, the ordinary courts of the states are subordinate to the state ministries of justice. In order to guarantee judicial independence, important issues such as the allocation of judges to chambers are not determined by the ministries of justice or the court presidents, but by the court executive committees, which are the self-governing bodies of judges at individual courts.

 [19]. Many of these officials have been judges at one point during their career, but serve at the ministries for at least some amount of time. While they are serving at the ministries, they do not act as judges. This also means that they are expected to follow instructions by their superiors, while of course judges enjoy a relatively high level of independence.

 [20]. Legal education in Germany comprises a university education of normally four to five years and a mandatory legal training (Referendariat) of two years.

 [21]. Deutsches Richtergesetz [DRiG] [German Judiciary Act], Apr. 19, 1972, BGBl. I at 713, as amended by Act of June 8, 2017, BGBl I at 1570, § 48, translation at https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_drig/index.html.

 [22]. Rolf Stürner, Rechtspflege durch unabhängige Organe oder Institutionen ein Grundprinzip der Rechtsstaatlichkeit?, 72 Juristen-Zeitung [JZ] 905, 910 (2017).

 [23]. Johann-Friedrich Staats, Richterbeförderung und richterliche Unabhängigkeit in Deutschland: ein systemimmanenter, aber reduzierbarer Konflikt, in Festschrift für Peter Riess zum 70. Geburtstag am 4. Juni 2002 1017, 1020 (Ernst-Walter Hanack et al. eds., 2002) (quoting Prussian minister of justice Adolf Leonhardt). For historical background, see Thomas Ormond, Richterwürde und Regierungstreue: Dienstrecht, politische Betätigung und Disziplinierung der Richter in Preußen, Baden und Hessen 1866–1918, at 507–510 (1994).

 [24]. German Courts Constitution Act, supra note 7, § 21a.

 [25]. Id. § 21e.

 [26]. Id. §§ 1213, 17.

 [27]. See, e.g., German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 281.

 [28]. While important decisions by higher German courts are published in official case collections of the courts and are also published widely in practitioner-oriented law journals, less important decisions and, in particular, first instance decisions are usually not published. It is the courts themselves which decide whether to publish a decision or not. In many cases, unpublished court decisions can only be retrieved by filing a request with the respective court to get a physical paper copy of the decision. As a result, there is no comprehensive data on German court decisions available. Given that there is no database in Germany that offers similar coverage to U.S. databases such as Westlaw, LexisNexis, Pacer, or Lex Machina, scholars interested in the German court system have to rely on other methods. In addition to our qualitative interviews, we also performed a literature review in both the legal and the trade press literature.

 [29]. For further discussion on snowball sampling, see Rowland Atkinson & John Flint, Snowball Sampling, in The SAGE Encyclopedia of Social Science Research Methods 1044, 1044 (Michael S. Lewis-Beck et al. eds., 2004).

 [30]. See Yongwook Paik & Feng Zhu, The Impact of Patent Wars on Firm Strategy: Evidence from the Global Smartphone Industry, 27 Org. Sci. 1397, 1412 n.10 (2016) (“Germany has a well-respected specialized patent court system with highly specialized judges for patent infringement cases wherein cases are ruled on relatively quickly, and it can be easier to obtain an injunction in Germany than in other countries. Thus, many technology firms tend to pursue lawsuits in Germany . . . .”). During the so-called “smartphone wars,” Samsung and Apple chose to litigate against each other in Germany. Id. at 1401; Stuart J.H. Graham & Nicolas Van Zeebroeck, Comparing Patent Litigation Across Europe: A First Look, 17 Stan. Tech. L. Rev. 655, 657 (2014).

 [31]. Thomas Kühnen & Rolf Claessen, Die Durchsetzung von Patenten in der EU Standortbestimmung vor Einführung des europäischen Patentgerichts, 115 Gewerblicher Rechtsschutz und Urheberrecht [GRUR] 592, 593 (2013). Katrin Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe, 44 Eur. J.L. & Econ. 1, 23 (2017) [hereinafter Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe] estimate that between 2000 and 2008, Germany attracted four times as many cases as France, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom combined. If a company has protected its invention not only in Germany, but also in other European countries, the company can choose the country in which it wants to litigate. However, due to the territoriality principle governing patent law, if a company sues in a German court, it can only recover damages that occurred in Germany. As a result, there is no direct competition between patent courts in different European countries at this stage. Düsseldorfer Dominanz, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, Aug. 2018, at 57, 57 estimates that German courts attract 900 to 1000 patent cases per year, while all other European patent courts attract up to 500 cases.

 [32]. See Patentgesetz [PatG] [Patent Act], Dec. 16, 1980, BGBl. I at 1, as amended by Act of Oct. 8, 2017, BGBl. I at 3546, § 143(2), translation at https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_ patg/index.html [hereinafter German Patent Act] and the respective laws of the individual states. The twelve designated patent courts are located in Berlin, Braunschweig, Düsseldorf, Erfurt, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Leipzig, Magdeburg, Mannheim, Munich, Nürnberg, and Saarbrücken.

 [33].                German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 32.

 [34]. Thomas Kühnen, Patent Litigation Proceedings in Germany: A Handbook for Practitioners 290, 290 (Frank Peterreins trans., 7th ed. 2015) [hereinafter Kühnen, Patent Litigation]; Christian Osterrieth, Patent Enforcement in Germany, in Patent Enforcement Worldwide: Writings in Honour of Dieter Stauder 111, 121–22 (Christopher Heath ed., 3d ed. 2015) [hereinafter Osterrieth, Patent Enforcement in Germany]; Matthias Zigann, Die Sicht des Patentinhabers, in Handbuch des Patentrechts 1033, 1060 (Maximilian Haedicke & Henrik Timmann eds., 2012).

 [35]. TC Heartland LLC v. Kraft Foods Grp. Brands LLC, 137 S. Ct. 1514, 152021 (2017).

 [36]. Jochen Herr & Marc Grunwald, Speedy Patent Infringement Proceedings in Germany: Pros and Cons of the Go-To Courts, 7 J. Intell. Prop. L. & Prac. 44, 44–45 (2012); Fabian Gaessler & Yassine Lefouili, What to Buy When Forum Shopping? Analyzing Court Selection in Patent Litigation 12, (Toulouse Sch. of Econ. Working Papers, Paper No. 17775, 2017), http://ssrn.com/abstract=29313

51.

 [37]. See supra Section I.A.

 [38]. Several scholars have estimated the allocation of patent cases among the regional courts. Gaessler and Lefouili show that, during the period from 2003 to 2008, Düsseldorf heard almost ten times as many cases as Munich. Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 19; see also Katrin Cremers & Paula Schliessler, Patent Litigation Settlement in Germany: Why Parties Settle During Trial, 40 Eur. J.L. & Econ. 185, 197 (2015); Mathieu Klos, Standortvorteil, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, Apr. 2010, at 72, 72–73 [hereinafter Klos, Standortvorteil]; Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 593. Stephan Hase, Die statistische Erfassung von Rechtsstreitigkeiten in Patent-, Gebrauchsmuster- und Arbeitnehmererfinder-Sachen in der BRD im Jahre 1992 – der Abschluß einer Versuchsreihe, 84 Mitteilungen der deutschen Patentanwälte [MDP] 329, 330 (1994) reports that the regional court of Düsseldorf dealt with 201 cases in 1992, while the Mannheim court dealt with 52 and the Hamburg court dealt with 25. No data on the Munich court was available. Osterrieth, supra note 34, at 115–16, estimates that of the more than 1300 patent cases that are filed in Germany per year, about 500 cases are filed in Düsseldorf, about 280 in Mannheim, and about 170 each in Munich and Hamburg, although he does not provide data to substantiate his claim. The German Federal Statistics Office’s data indicates how many patent cases the four busiest regional courts, as well as the Hamburg court, handled over the last years:

Note: Statistisches Bundesamt, Rechtspflege: Zivilgerichte 2017, Fachserie 10, Reihe 2.1 (2018), https://www.destatis.de/GPStatistik/receive/DEHeft_heft_00083616. This data should be interpreted with care. They capture all lawsuits regional courts handled in a given year that primarily concerned patents, utility models, and employee inventions. They include all cases that were concluded in a year, either because the court decided the case, or because the parties settled the case, or for other reasons. Data before 2010 is not reliable because of changes in the data coding structure. Nevertheless, this data gives an indication of the relative market share of German patent courts over the last few years. Recently, the Düsseldorf district court started to publish case numbers itself, with other courts adopting the same practice immediately. In 2017, Düsseldorf heard 488 cases, Mannheim 215, and Munich 181. Düsseldorfer Dominanz, supra note 31, at 57.

 [39]. Düsseldorfer Dominanz, supra note 31, at 57.

 [40]. See also Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 12.

 [41]. For example, the distribution of case numbers could be the result of network externalities: potentially, a court with high numbers of past cases in the past is more attractive to future plaintiffs than a court with no experience at all in a certain field of law. On the role of network externalities in the law, see generally Mark A. Lemley & David McGowan, Legal Implications of Network Economic Effects, 86 Calif. L. Rev. 479 (1998).

 [42]. Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 241.

 [43]. Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe, supra note 31, at 13, 27; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 44; see also Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 593.

 [44]. Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe, supra note 31, at 14; see also Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 593.

 [45]. Under German patent law, users of an invention might have a right of prior use, German Patent Act, supra note 32, § 12, or the right to ask for a compulsory license, id. § 24. Also, courts have held that antitrust law in some cases requires a patentee to grant a compulsory license to alleged infringers. See, e.g., Bundesgerichtshof [BGH] [Federal Court of Justice] May 6, 2009, 111 GRUR 694, 2009.

 [46]. Thomas Kühnen, Handbuch der Patentverletzung 446–49 (10th ed. 2018) [hereinafter Kühnen, Handbuch der Patentverletzung]; Peter Mes, Patentgesetz, Gebrauchsmustergesetz § 139 n.42 (4th ed. 2015). One commentator traces this back to the distinction between common law and equity, which does not exist in civil law countries. Ansgar Ohly, “Patenttrolle” oder: Der patentrechtliche Unterlassungsanspruch unter Verhältnismäßigkeitsvorbehalt? Aktuelle Entwicklungen im US-Patentrecht und ihre Bedeutung für das deutsche und europäische Patentsystem, 57 Gewerblicher Rechtsschutz und Urheberrecht: Internationaler Teil [GRUR Int.] 787, 793 (2008). In recent years, a number of commentators have argued that injunctive relief under German patent law should be constrained in some cases. Thomas F. Cotter, Comparative Patent Remedies: A Legal and Economic Analysis 243–48 (2013); Clemens-August Heusch, Der patentrechtliche Unterlassungsanspruch, in Festschrift für Wolfgang von Meibom zum 65. Geburtstag 135, 147 (Christian Harmsen et al. eds., 2010); Marcus Sonnenberg, Die Einschränkbarkeit des patentrechtlichen Unterlassungsanspruchs im Einzelfall 173–236 (2014); Torsten Körber, Machtmissbrauch durch Erhebung patentrechtlicher Unterlassungsklagen? Eine Analyse unter besonderer Berücksichtigung standardessentieller Patente, 59 Wettbewerb in Recht und Praxis [WRP] 734, 740 (2013); Ohly, supra at 795–97; Christian Osterrieth, Patent-Trolls in Europa: Braucht das Patentrecht neue Grenzen?, 111 GRUR 540, 542 (2009); Hans-Jürgen Papier, Verfassungsrechtliche Anforderungen an den Patentschutz, 8 Zeitschrift für Geistiges Eigentum [ZGE] 431, 432 (2016).

 [47]. See also Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe, supra note 31, at 34–35; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 44–45. Recently, the ease with which patentees can obtain an injunction became the subject of severe criticism by the former Chief Justice of the German Constitutional Court, who challenged this feature as unconstitutional. Papier, supra note 46, at 432.

 [48]. German Patent Act, supra note 32, §§ 21, 59, 81; see also Graham & Van Zeebroeck, supra note 30, at 67072.

 [49]. German Patent Act, supra note 32, § 143(1).

 [50]. Anja Schwarz, Nullity Proceedings, in Patent Litigation in Germany 227, 228 (Claudia Milbradt ed., 2012); Katrin Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed? An Analysis of the Bifurcated Patent Litigation System, 131 J. Econ. Behav. & Org. 218, 220 (2016) [hereinafter Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?]; Sven Hetmank, The Principle of Separation in German Patent Law and its Implications for Patent Litigation, 34 Eur. Intell. Prop. Rev. 369, 369 (2012).

 [51]. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 148. See infra Section III.B.3 for a description of the practice of the courts in this regard.

 [52]. Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50, at 221; Cremers et al., Patent Litigation in Europe, supra note 31, at 13, 27.

 [53]. Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50, at 220; Uwe Scharen, The Practice of Claiming Injunctive Relief for Patent Infringement in Germany, 14 J. Intell. Prop. L. & Prac. 112, 116 (2018).

 [54]. In principle, it is possible for a defendant to file for (negative) declaratory relief. However, plaintiffs can counter such maneuver by suing for infringement elsewhere, which would render the defendant’s case inadmissible. This might be different if an action for negative declaratory relief is filed with the courts in another country. See Cotter, supra note 46, at 253–55; Mario Franzosi, Worldwide Patent Litigation and the Italian Torpedo, 7 Eur. Intell. Prop. Rev. 382, 382 (1997); Michele Giannino, Italian Torpedo Actions Can Sink Cross-Border Patent Infringement Proceedings, 9 J. Intell. Prop. L. & Prac. 172, 173 (2014).

 [55]. See also Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 31; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 47.

 [56]. Mathieu Klos, Angriff auf die Bastion, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, June 2012, 83, 87.

 [57]. Osterrieth, Patent Enforcement in Germany, supra note 34, at 115, reports that it takes the regional court of Mannheim about six to eight months after filing a lawsuit to schedule an oral hearing on the merits, while it takes the regional court of Düsseldorf between fourteen and eighteen months. See also Thorsten Bausch & Esther Pfaff, Das “neue Münchner Verfahren” eine Trumpfkarte für den Gerichtsstandort München?, 103 MDP 97, 98 (2012).

 [58]. Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 76.

 [59]. See also Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 22. Note that these preferences do not seem to be strongly influenced by where companies in these industries are located.

 [60]. Reportedly, courts vary with regard to how quickly they require a plaintiff to file for a preliminary injunction. The courts in Düsseldorf and Hamburg have a reputation for being rather accommodating in this regard, while Mannheim considers late requests for preliminary injunctions inadmissible.

 [61]. Düsseldorf until recently required all documents, including exhibits, to be translated into German. In Mannheim, only briefs have to be filed in German.

 [62]. Note that, in Germany, there are no formal rules of precedent. Therefore, there is no difference between published and unpublished decisions regarding whether they are considered binding precedent.

 [63]. This might have changed in recent years.

 [64]. Mannheim normally does not schedule an early hearing but aims at resolving cases after only one oral hearing following the exchange of briefs between the parties. In Düsseldorf, traditionally an oral hearing was scheduled early during the proceedings in order to deliberate the procedural schedule, with a second oral hearing taking place after the end of the written procedure. Reportedly, judges have recently adopted Mannheim’s approach in at least some proceedings. Munich, like Düsseldorf, schedules early hearings but aims to provide parties with a preliminary assessment of the merits of a case. See Osterrieth, Patent Enforcement in Germany, supra note 34, at 114–15; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 46. See also Hinweise zum Münchner Verfahren in Patentstreitsachen, Regional Court of Munich, (Dec. 2016), https://www.justiz.bayern.de/media/images/behoerden-undgerichte/infoblatt_m_nchner_verfahr en__stand_12_2016_.pdf.

 [65]. A “chamber” is a group of judges, usually three, who handle a particular kind of case. So, by increasing the number of patent chambers, court administrators are increasing the number of positions for patent judges.

 [66]. See Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 19–22, which shows that, for the time period from 2003 to 2008, average durations of proceedings were considerably shorter in Mannheim as compared to Düsseldorf. Note, however, that the subsequent analysis in Gaessler & Lefouili challenges this notion.

 [67]. See Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 265.

 [68]. If they do not have the technical understanding necessary to establish the facts of the case, German judges are, in fact, under an obligation to appoint an expert. Although judges in principle enjoy large discretion whether to appoint an expert witness, it may give rise to a successful (second) appeal if they do not appoint an expert opinion despite not having the required technical expertise to properly establish the facts of a case. See Kühnen, Patent Litigation, supra note 34, at 725–26; Walter Zimmermann, in 2 Münchener Kommentar zur Zivilprozessordnung § 402, ¶ 7 (Thomas Rauscher & Wolfgang Krüger eds., 5th ed. 2016).

 [69]. Note that expert witnesses are almost always appointed by the court under German civil procedure law. Party-appointed experts, by contrast, play a much less important role than in U.S. civil procedure. See Langbein, supra note 3, at 835.

 [70]. Kühnen, Patent Litigation, supra note 34, at 726.

 [71]. Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 595; see also Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 46.

 [72]. See Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 597.

 [73]. Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 46; Marcus Creutz, Richter machen kurzen Prozess, Handelsblatt, Jan. 27, 2011, at 55, 55. The findings in Gaessler and Lefouili largely confirm the statements of our interviewees. Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 25. They find that during the time period from 2003 to 2008, the regional court in Düsseldorf relied on expert witnesses least often, followed by Mannheim, while in Munich expert witnesses were involved most often. Id.

 [74].  Interview with attorney (July 8, 2014).

 [75]. Hinweise zum Münchner Verfahren in Patentstreitsachen, supra note 64; see also Bausch & Pfaff, supra note 57, at 97; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 46; Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 75.

 [76]. Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 73.

 [77].  Interview with judge (Aug. 14, 2014).

 [78].                Interview with judge (July 9, 2014).

 [79]. See supra text accompanying notes 4850.

 [80]. See supra Section III.A.

 [81]. See Gaessler & Lefouili, supra note 36, at 14.

 [82]. See supra Section III.A.

 [83]. Bundesgerichtshof [BGH] [Federal Court of Justice] Sept. 16, 2014, 116 GRUR 1237, 1238 (2014); Bundesgerichtshof [BGH] [Federal Court of Justice] Nov. 11, 1986, 89 GRUR 284, 284 (1986) (“some chance of success”); Klaus Grabinski & Carsten Zülch, in Patentgesetz: Kommentar § 139, 107 (Georg Benkard ed., 11th ed. 2015).

 [84]. An anecdote may exemplify the attitude: according to this anecdote, a law clerk at a German patent court prepared a meeting with his judge concerning a patent infringement lawsuit. When the clerk turned to the files concerning the invalidity proceedings, his judge told him: “You don’t have to read them, we will not stay proceedings anyhow.” Malte Köllner et al., 95 Thesen zur Aussetzung, 109 MDP 8, 11 (2018).

 [85]. Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 594; see also Kühnen, Patent Litigation, supra note 34, at 519; Thomas Kühnen, The Bifurcation System in German Practice, in 16th Symposium of European Patent Judges 59, 67 (Eur. Patent Office ed., 2013); Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50, at 221; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 44 (estimating that around 10 to 15 percent of infringement cases are stayed); Scharen, supra note 53, at 120 (noting that a review of the relevant case suggests that motions to stay infringement proceedings were rejected “in the vast majority of cases”); Tobias Wuttke & Peter Guntz, Wie weit reicht die Privilegierung des Klägers durch das Trennungsprinzip?, 103 MDP 477, 483 (2012) (estimating that proceedings were stayed in less than ten percent of cases). In an attempt to verify such claims, in November 2017 we obtained all decisions by one of the three major German patent courts which mention § 148 of the German Civil Procedure Code from the commercial IP database Darts-IP (www.darts-ip.com). This search yielded a total of 737 results, with 536 decisions by the regional court in Düsseldorf, 61 decisions by the regional court in Munich, and 140 decisions by the regional court in Mannheim. Four hundred thirty-four of these decisions were issued between 2010 and 2017. In this time period, the Düsseldorf court decided to stay a proceeding in only 1 out of 267 cases (<1%), the Mannheim court decided to stay a proceeding in 33 out of 124 cases (27%), and the Munich court decided to stay a proceeding in 7 out of 48 cases (15%). Interestingly, during a slightly earlier period (2000 and 2009), the rate of stayed proceedings in Munich was somewhat higher, with 2 out of 10 cases stayed (20%). This might indicate a shift at the time of the introduction of the New Munich Proceedings in 2009. It is important to note, however, that these numbers are unreliable because only a small number of cases were included in the Darts-IP database before 2010 and because some of the stays may have been in related proceedings (that is, of the 33 decisions to stay a proceeding issued by the regional court of Mannheim in the period from 2010 to 2017, 17 were issued in 2013, pointing to the possibility that these cases may have been related).

 [86]. Ulrike Voß, in Prozesskommentar zum Gewerblichen Rechtsschutz § 940 ZPO 1484, 148489, ¶¶ 121–37 (Philipp Moritz Cepl & Ulrike Voß eds., 2d ed. 2018); Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 46 (noting that the regional court of Düsseldorf “rarely stays infringement proceedings, while in Mannheim and Munich a stay of the proceedings, while clearly the exception, may happen slightly more often”); Scharen, supra note 53, at 119.

 [87]. Hinweise zum Münchner Verfahren in Patentstreitsachen, supra note 64. The courts differ somewhat in the test they purport to apply in their decision whether to stay a proceeding. In the decisions we obtained from Darts-IP, see discussion supra note 85, Düsseldorf and Munich between 2010 and 2017 mostly applied the standard set by the Federal Court of Justice in 2014. See Bundesgerichtshof [BGH] [Federal Court of Justice] Sept. 16, 2014, 116 GRUR 1237 (2014) (setting this standard). Since 2015, the Düsseldorf court shifted to demanding that the defendant show that an invalidation is sufficiently likely (hinreichend wahrscheinlich). The regional court in Mannheim mostly asked for a high probability (hohe Wahrscheinlichkeit) of an invalidation. The fact that Mannheim as the regional court which professed to apply the strictest standard also stayed the highest number of proceedings puts into question whether the wording of the test is of any relevance. See also Voß, supra note 86, at 148889, ¶ 137.

 [88]. Creutz, supra note 73, at 55. The Federal Court of Justice has never reverted a decision not to stay a proceeding by the lower courts. One potential reason for this apparent contradiction is the fact that decisions by the lower courts are largely shielded from appellate review, see infra text accompanying notes 98100.

 [89]. Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50.

 [90]. Id. at 234.

 [91]. Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 594. It is important to note that the available data do not provide conclusive evidence on whether German patent courts should be more willing to stay proceedings. In an influential article, the presiding judge of the patent senate at the Federal Court of Justice (Bundesgerichtshof) argued that German patent courts do not stay proceedings at lower than the optimal rate. Peter Meier-Beck, Überlegungen zum Übereinkommen über ein Einheitliches Patentgericht und zur Zukunft des Trennungsprinzips in Deutschland, 117 GRUR 929, 931 n.3 (2015). Unfortunately, Judge Meier-Beck’s analysis is subject to various methodological problems. The dataset he uses does not include information on how often requests to stay proceedings are actually filed and what percentage of these requests are actually granted by German patent courts. As a result, Judge Meier-Beck relies on a number of problematic assumptions in order to calculate the rate at which requests to stay proceedings are granted. The same is true for the optimal rate. It is reasonable to assume that the optimal rate to stay proceedings concerning particular patents should be roughly equivalent to the hypothetical rate at which these patents would be invalidated by the European Patent Office, the German Patent & Trademark Office or the German Federal Patent Court. Unfortunately, data on this hypothetical rate is not available, and estimating such rate is challenging. The main reason for this is that many cases settle between the decision by the regional court on whether to stay the case and the decision by the patent offices or the Federal Patent Court on the validity of the patent. Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50. Note that, even using the best dataset that is available on German patent litigation (the Max Planck patent litigation dataset, covering all patent infringement cases at the courts of Düsseldorf, Mannheim and Munich between 2000 and 2008), we were unable to answer this question on the basis of a methodologically sound quantitative analysis.

 [92]. Gaessler and Lefouili, supra note 36, at 21, report that for the time period between 2003 and 2008 proceedings in Munich were stayed in 30% of all cases in which a parallel validity proceeding was pending. By contrast, the regional courts in Mannheim and Düsseldorf only stayed 18% of all cases with parallel invalidity proceedings. Id.; see also Creutz, supra note 73, at 55.

 [93]. Interview with judge (Aug. 14, 2014).

 [94]. The other changes included a standardized procedural schedule aimed at providing plaintiffs with a good estimate for how long it would take them to obtain a judgment. Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 73.

 [95]. Interview with attorney (July 4, 2014).

 [96]. Id. (internal quotation marks omitted).

 [97]. Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 250, 278, 301–02.

 [98]. Grabinski & Zülch, supra note 83, § 139, ¶ 108; Karl Harraeus, Über den gleichzeitigen Ablauf von Patentverletzungs- und Patentnichtigkeitsverfahren, 66 GRUR 181, 182 (1964); Thomas Kaess, Die Schutzfähigkeit technischer Schutzrechte im Verletzungsverfahren, 111 GRUR 276, 277 (2009).

 [99]. Grabinski & Zülch, supra note 83, § 139, ¶ 108; Scharen, supra note 53, at 120.

 [100]. See Falk Freiherr von Maltzahn, Die Aussetzung im Patentverletzungsprozeß nach § 148 ZPO bei erhobener Patentnichtigkeitsklage, 87 GRUR 163, 165 (1985).

 [101]. Reto M. Hilty & Matthias Lamping, Trennungsprinzip Quo vadis, Germania, in 50 Jahre Bundespatentgericht: Festschrift zum 50-jährigen Bestehen des Bundespatentgerichts am 1. Juli 2011, 255, 260–262 (Achim Bender et al. eds., 2011); Kühnen & Claessen, supra note 31, at 595; see also Kühnen, Handbuch der Patentverletzung, supra note 46, at 702; Papier, supra note 46, at 443. Arguments against the restrictive interpretation of the requirements for staying proceedings are not new. See Harraeus, supra note 98, at 182–85 (reviewing arguments in favor and against a restrictive interpretation of the requirements for staying proceedings).

 [102]. See Tobias J. Hessel & Maximilian Schellhorn, Die Rückabwicklung des vorläufig vollstreckten Unterlassungstitels im Patentrecht, 119 GRUR 672, 674 (2017); Rüdiger Rogge, Zur Aussetzung in Patentverletzungsprozessen, 45 GRUR Int. 386, 386 (1996).

 [103]. This is the case if the decision by the regional court is confirmed by the regional court of appeals, or if the defendant does not appeal the decision by the regional court. Rogge, supra note 102, at 389; Zigann, supra note 34, § 11, ¶ 537.

 [104]. As mentioned above, Cremers et al., Invalid but Infringed?, supra note 50, at 234, find that a substantial number of challenges to the validity of patents are withdrawn after an infringement decision.

 [105]. See generally Hilty & Lamping, supra note 101 (arguing that the bifurcation principle unfairly favors the plaintiff, and arguing in favor of its abolition); Papier, supra note 46 (arguing that the bifurcation principle has contributed to a situation in which defendants’ constitutional rights are violated). Note that Papier, in his criticism of the German patent litigation system, provides a different reason for the handling of requests to stay proceedings which does not take into account forum selling: “[t]he reason likely is that the civil courts, in an attempt to protect the efficiency of the patent as an exclusive right and a right of defense, are not willing to condone infringing actions during the—often longer—time a nullification proceeding is pending.” Papier, supra note 46, at 440.

 [106]. Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 263–65.

 [107]. See generally Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1 (examining forum selling the United States and proposing solutions to reduce the phenomenon).

 [108]. Note that some of our interviewees indicated that not all judges might want to work exclusively in patent law.

 [109]. Interview with attorney (July 1, 2014).

 [110]. Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 254–57.

 [111]. See generally Nuno Garoupa & Tom Ginsburg, Judicial Reputation: A Comparative Theory (2015) (discussing the importance of reputation for judicial systems in general). In December 2018, for example, the Munich district court banned Apple from selling iPhones 7 and 8 in Germany as long as Qualcomm posted a court-set bond of €1.34 billion (an estimate of Apple’s damages should the appellate court overturn the ban). Qualcomm posted the billion-dollar bond within two weeks, and the judge and his court decision made international news. Martin Coulter & Tobias Buck, Apple Faces iPhone Ban in Germany Over Patent Case, Fin. Times (Dec. 20, 2018), https://www.ft.com/content/c66e9a96-0469-11e9-9d01-cd4d49afbbe3.

 [112]. Interview with attorney (July 1, 2014).

 [113]. Interview with attorney (July 1, 2014).

 [114]. While such a Stuhlurteil is legal, it is extremely rare in complex disputes. Usually, judgments are issued in writing several weeks or months after the oral hearing.

 [115]. Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 79.

 [116]. Langbein, supra note 3, at 851.

 [117]. The Unified Patent Court is a proposed common court of EU member states which, once established, will have jurisdiction to hear proceedings regarding the infringement and the validity of European-wide patents. The international agreement by which the Unified Patent Court is to be established was signed in February 2013. Agreement on a Unified Patent Court, 2013 O.J. (C 175) 1. The agreement, however, has not yet entered into force because it has not been ratified by Germany, among other countries.

 [118]. Mathieu Klos, Europäisches Richterranking: Favoriten für Paris, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, June 2017, at 72, 81 points out that becoming a judge in the Unified Patent Court is not only attractive because one may shape both a new court and European patent law. It can also be attractive for financial reasons: while the president of a chamber at a regional court in Germany has a base salary of about €88,000 per year, a Unified Patent Court judge is expected to earn up to €144,000 per year. This is a higher salary than the base salary of a judge at the German Federal Court of Justice.

 [119]. Stürner, supra note 22, at 909.

 [120]. Some prominent patent judges, such as Thomas Kühnen from the court of appeals in Düsseldorf, publish treatises and law journal articles on patent law. Revenue from such activities can be substantial. A recent German Parliamentary inquiry revealed that over 30 judges at the Federal Court of Justice (Bundesgerichtshof) have generated extra incomes between €10,000 and €240,000 per year by publishing legal treatises. See Antwort der Bundesregierung, Deutscher Bundestag: Drucksachen [BT] 18/10781 10, 16, http://dipbt.bundestag.de/doc/btd/18/107/1810781.pdf.

 [121]. Interview with judge (July 9, 2014).

 [122]. See infra Section III.B.1; Klaus Schülke, Patentgerichtsbarkeit, in Die Praxis des Richterberufs 67, 77 (Peter-Christian Müller-Graff & Herbert Roth eds., 2000); Bausch & Pfaff, supra note 57, at 97. In fact, the staffing of patent chambers has become a matter of state politics in the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, where Düsseldorf is located. After the state election in 2005, the ruling political parties (the Christian Democratic Union and the Free Democratic Party) declared in their coalition agreement that the staffing of the two patent chambers at the regional court of Düsseldorf should be increased. Reportedly, the political goal was to secure court revenues and to head off increasing competition from the regional court of Mannheim. See Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 83.

 [123]. Interview with judge (July 9, 2014).

 [124].                Court fees in Germany can be substantial, with individual proceedings in a court of first instance generating up to €329,208 in fees. Gerichtskostengesetz [GKG] [Act on Court Fees], Feb. 27, 2014, BGBl. I at 154, as amended by Act of July 12, 2018 BGBl I at 1151, §§ 3(2). 34(1), 39(2), Anlage 1, [hereinafter German Act on Court Fees], http://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/gkg_2004/index.html.

 [125]. Interview with judge (July 16, 2014).

 [126]. Klos, Standortvorteil, supra note 38, at 83. The Düsseldorf estimate is only a rough one. It is based on the observation that the court heard 560 patent cases in 2009, that the typical amount in controversy in German patent disputes is about one million euros, and that the court fees in such a case are about €13,400 if the court issues a final decision. The estimate does not take into account settlements, which may lower court fees.

 [127]. Marcus Jung & Jörn Poppelbaum, Premiumlagen, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, June 2015, at 36, 37.

 [128]. Schülke, supra note 122, at 77.

 [129]. Examples that were mentioned in our interviews include law firms creating jobs in the city.

 [130]. One of the reasons may be that business methods have never been patentable under German or European patent law.

 [131]. Einheitliches Europäisches Patentgericht: Einrichtung einer Lokalkammer am Standort Mannheim nimmt Fahrt auf, Ministerium der Justiz und für Europa Baden-Württemberg (Mar. 1, 2016), http://www.jum.baden-wuerttemberg.de/pb/,Lde/Startseite/Service/Einheitliches+Europaeisch es+Patentgericht_+Einrichtung+einer+Lokalkammer+am+Standort+Mannheim+nimmt+Fahrt+auf/?LISTPAGE=1825757.

 [132]. NRW-Landeshauptstadt auf dem Weg zum Weltpatentgericht Bundesrat berät über Europäisches Patentgericht in Düsseldorf, Staatskanzlei des Landes Nordrhein-Westfalen (Feb. 10, 2017), https://www.land.nrw/de/pressemitteilung/nrw-landeshauptstadt-auf-dem-weg-zum-weltpat entgericht-bundesrat-beraet-ueber.

   [133].               Id.

 [134]. Jung & Poppelbaum, supra note 127, at 37.

 [135]. Id. at 38.

 [136]. Von Schiedsgerichten können wir viel lernen, JUVE Rechtsmarkt, Mar. 2018, at 61, 63 (reproducing an interview with Anne-José Paulsen, the former president of the Düsseldorf Higher Regional Court). Responding to the assertion that “[c]oncerning international orientation, a German courts of appeals cannot compete with large law firms,” she replied:

Yes, we certainly can! Take our patent law chambers at the district and appellate level. Global disputes and the contact with international companies are common practice. This also applies to judges at chambers who deal with antitrust damage lawsuits. It is also common practice that judges travel to international conferences. Recently, several judges—including myself—traveled to China in order to visit IP courts in several large cities. We have many international connections.

 Id.

 [137]. See supra note 117 and accompanying text.

 [138]. The planned Unified Patent Court will consist of different courts. Local branches of its court of first instance are to be set up in various European Union member states. Because of the volume of patent litigation in German courts, Germany was given the right to set up four local branches, with the exact location of the local branches determined by the German government. See Agreement on a Unified Patent Court, art. 7, § 4, 2013 O.J. (C 175) 1, 4. In 2014, the federal minister of justice announced that local branches would be set up in Düsseldorf, Mannheim, Munich, and Hamburg. Standorte für künftige Lokalkammern stehen fest, Legal Trib. Online (Mar. 19, 2014), https://www.lto.de/recht
/nachrichten/n/eu-patentgericht-lokalkammer-standorte-hamburg-duesseldorf-mannheim-muenchen.

 [139]. One rather extreme example of such behavior is a series of decisions in which this judge accused lawyers of lying to the court about the true value of a dispute in an attempt to keep court fees low. Oberlandesgericht Düsseldorf [OLG Düsseldorf] [Court of Appeals Düsseldorf], Apr. 4, 2010, 10 Neue Juristische Online-Zeitschrift [NJOZ] 2425, 2426; OLG Düsseldorf [Court of Appeals Düsseldorf], May 10, 2011, 11 GRUR-Rechtsprechungsreport 341, 342; see also Jürgen Wessing & Eren Basar, Streitwertangabe: strafbar?, 114 GRUR 1215, 1215 (2012); Pia Lorenz, Ein Berufsstand unter Generalverdacht, Legal Trib. Online (Aug. 11, 2011), https://www.lto.de/recht/job-karriere
/j/olg-vorwuerfe-an-anwaelte-ein-berufsstand-unter-generalverdacht.

 [140]. Besides individuals, corporations can also under some circumstances sue media outlets over their reporting, for example in case they spread false information about them. Nevertheless, most cases are brought by individuals.

 [141]. Defendants in practice have no ability to influence the court in which the case is heard.

 [142]. In addition, in some cases, individuals ask the court to order the defendant to publish a reply or correction or sue for damages, or both. Press law in Germany, in principle, follows general principles developed in tort law (Deliktsrecht). The right to publish a reply is an exception and forms part of the laws of the individual states. See, e.g., Hamburgisches Pressegesetz [Press Law of Hamburg], Jan. 29, 1965, Hamburgisches Gesetz- und Verordnungsblatt [Hmb GVBl] at 15, as amended by Act of Oct. 16, 2007, Hmb GVBl at 385, § 11; Landespressegesetz NRW [State Press Law of North Rhine-Westphalia], May 24, 1966, Gesetz- und Verordnungsblatt Nordrhein-Westfalen [GV NRW] at 340, last amended by Act of May 8, 2018, GV NRW at 214, § 11.

 [143]. In contrast, lawsuits seeking to enforce an individual’s right of reply generally have to be brought at the place of business of the relevant publishing house.

 [144]. Disputes in press law are usually heard by regional courts and not local courts because the amount in controversy exceeds €5,000. See German Courts Constitution Act, supra note 7, §§ 23, 71.

 [145]. The German Code of Civil Procedure allows the plaintiff to bring a case before “the court in the district in which the tort was committed.” German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 32.

 [146]. Uwe Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände – Der fliegende Gerichtsstand im Presserecht, 67 Neue Juristische Wochenschrift [NJW] 3061, 3064 (2014) [hereinafter Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände].

 [147]. See supra note 42 and accompanying text.

 [148]. Cf. Birger Dölling, Der fliegende Gerichtsstand im Presserecht: Spielball der Interessen?, 68 NJW 113, 126 (2015).

 [149]. Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146, at 3065; Constantin van Lijnden, Fliegende Richter, Zeit Online (July 14, 2016, 3:01 AM), http://www.zeit.de/2016/28/presserecht-justiz-verfahren-gerichtsstand.

 [150]. See generally Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146 (arguing that forum shopping has resulted in a situation where most press law cases are heard by judges favoring plaintiffs); Uwe Jürgens, Turbulenzen im Presseprozessrecht: Der rechtswidrige Standardverzicht auf mündliche Verhandlungen im einstweiligen Rechtsschutz, 19 Kommunikation & Recht [K&R] 17 (2016) [hereinafter Jürgens, Turbulenzen im Presseprozessrecht] (arguing that flexible venue rules have led to the prevalence of ex parte injunctions in press law). For discussions of alternative viewpoints, see generally Dölling, supra note 148 (arguing that there is neither evidence for widespread forum shopping in press law, nor for the assertion that the most important press law courts systematically favored plaintiffs); Ralf Höcker & Lucas Brost, Kompetenz zahlt sich aus: Zur Notwendigkeit des fliegenden Gerichtsstandes im Nischenrechtsgebiet Presserecht, 5 IP-Rechtsberater [IPRB] 138 (2015) (questioning the evidence supporting forum shopping in press law, and arguing that flexible venue rules are required to maintain the quality of press law chambers).

 [151]. Dieter Leuze, in Berliner Kommentar zum Grundgesetz C Art. 101, ¶ 17 (Karl-Heinrich Friauf & Wolfram Höfling eds., 2018).

 [152]. Deutsche Vereinigung für gewerblichen Rechtsschutz und Urheberrecht, Überlegungen des Bundesministeriums der Justiz zu Änderungen im Recht der einstweiligen Verfügung, 111 GRUR 564 (2009); see also Dölling, supra note 148, at 125.

 [153]. Regierungsentwurf [Cabinet Draft], BT 17/13057, 31971, https://dip21.bundestag.de/dip21
/btd/17/130/1713057.pdf. The Federal Parliament (Bundestag), had restricted venue in copyright cases in which an individual was sued for non-commercial use of protected works. See Urheberrechtsgesetz [UrhG] [Copyright Act], Sept. 9. 1965, BGBl. I at 1273, as amended by Act of Nov. 28, 2018 BGBl I at 2014, § 104a, translation at http://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_urhg/index.html.

 [154]. Stenografischer Bericht, BT 17/250, 146, http://dip21.bundestag.de/dip21/btp/17/17250_ ORIG.pdf; Beschlussempfehlung des Rechtsausschusses, BT 17/14192, 5, https://dip21.bundestag.de/ dip21/btd/17/141/1714192.pdf.

 [155]. Beschluss der Ministerinnen und Minister: “Fliegender Gerichtsstand 14 Absatz 2 Satz 1 UWG), Konferenz der Justizministerinnen und Justizminister (Nov. 17, 2016), https://www.justiz.nrw.de/JM/jumiko/beschluesse/2016/Herbstkonferenz-2016/top7_-_fliegender
_gerichtsstand_herbstkonferenz.pdf.

 [156].                In 2018, the Federal Ministry of Justice issued a legislative proposal which would restrict venue choice in unfair competition law, but not in press law. Referentenentwurf [Ministerial Draft], Entwurf eines Gesetzes zur Stärkung des fairen Wettbewerbs (2018), https://www.bmjv.de
/SharedDocs/Gesetzgebungsverfahren/Dokumente/RefE_fairerWettbewerb.pdf?__blob=publicationFile&v=1.

 [157].                See infra notes 16870 and accompanying text.

 [158]. Preliminary injunctions do not automatically expire. Instead, the defendant can obtain a court order asking the plaintiff to open principal proceedings. If the plaintiff fails to do so, the court has to revoke the preliminary injunction. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, §§ 926, 936. Different from injunctions and orders requiring the press outlet to publish a reply, judgments for damages and judgments ordering the press outlet to issue a correction can normally not be issued in preliminary proceedings, but require the court to hold principal proceedings. See Ingo Drescher, in Münchener Kommentar zur Zivilprozessordnung, supra note 68, § 935, ¶¶ 65–67; Lutz Haertlein, in Gesamtes Recht der Zwangsvollstreckung § 935, ¶ 27 (Johann Kindl et al. eds., 3d ed. 2016).

 [159]. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 937(2).

 [160]. Wolf-Dietrich Walker, Der einstweilige Rechtsschutz im Zivilprozess und im arbeitsgerichtlichen Verfahren 280 (1993); Wolf-Dietrich Walker, Die Schutzschrift und das elektronische Schutzschriftenregister nach §§ 945a, 945b ZPO, in Rechtslage – Rechtserkenntnis Rechtsdurchsetzung: Festschrift für Eberhard Schilken zum 70. Geburtstag 815, at 815 (Caroline Meller-Hannich et al. eds., 2015) [hereinafter Walker, Die Schutzschrift].

 [161]. See Bundesverfassungsgericht [BVerfG] [Federal Constitutional Court], June 6, 2017, 1 BvQ 16/17, 1 BvQ 17/17, 1 BvR 764/17, 1 BvR 770/17, ¶ 2, http://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/ SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2017/06/qk20170606_1bvq001617.html; Rafael Buschmann et al., Bitte bellen Sie leise, Der Spiegel, Aug. 17, 2017, at 99, 99100.

 [162]. Interview with attorney (May 17, 2017).

 [163]. Dölling, supra note 148, at 127; Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146, at 3064; Jürgen Dahlkamp & Barbara Schmid, Köln nimmt alles, Der Spiegel, Oct. 13, 2014, at 150, 150; Höcker & Brost, supra note 150, at 139. Note that some of our interviewees disputed this account.

 [164]. For corroboration of these accounts, see BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 1783/17, ¶ 8, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr178317.html; BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 2421/17, ¶ 21, https://www.bundesverfassungs
gericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr242117.html.

 [165]. See Otto Teplitzky, Gewohnheitsunrecht? Anmerkungen zum Einfluss der normativen Kraft des Faktischen auf die einstweilige Unterlassungsverfügung, in Festschrift für Joachim Bornkamm zum 65. Geburtstag 1073, 1086 (Wolfgang Büscher et al. eds., 2014) (discussing ex parte injunctions in general).

 [166]. Both the German constitution and the grant defendants in Germany the opportunity to be heard. Grundgesetz [GG] [Basic Law], art. 103, § 1; European Convention on Human Rights, art. 6, § 1; see also Teplitzky, supra note 165, at 1087.

 [167]. See Walker, Die Schutzschrift, supra note 160, at 816.

 [168].                BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 1783/17, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/
SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr178317.html; BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 2421/17, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/
rk20180930_1bvr242117.html.

 [169].                BverfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 1783/17, ¶ 18–19, https://www.bundesverfassungs
gericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr178317.html; BverfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 2421/17, ¶ 31–32, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/
DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr242117.html.

 [170].                BverfG, 1 BvQ 2421/17, Sept. 30, 2018, 36, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/
SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr242117.html.

 [171]. See German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 945a. Traditionally, such a protection letter had to be filed with every court individually. Since 2016, there is a central registry with which protection letters can be filed.

 [172]. Ingo Drescher, in Münchener Kommentar zur Zivilprozessordnung, supra note 68, § 945a, ¶ 6.

 [173]. In line with this argument, the Federal Constitutional Court in its aforementioned rulings decided that the possibility of filing a protection letter renders it unnecessary to involve the defendant in preliminary ruling proceedings only under certain conditions. Most importantly, the Court requires a cease and desist letter whose content should be basically identical with the motion for preliminary injunction. BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 1783/17, ¶¶ 22–23, https://www.bundesverfassungs
gericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr178317.html; BVerfG, Sept. 30, 2018, 1 BvQ 2421/17, ¶¶ 34–35, https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/
DE/2018/09/rk20180930_1bvr242117.html; see also Teplitzky, supra note 165, at 1088.

 [174]. Jörg Soehring, Presserecht: Recherche, Darstellung, Haftung im Recht der Presse, des Rundfunks und der neuen Medien 745 (Jörg Soehring & Verena Hoene eds., 5th ed. 2013); cf. Rolf Nikolas Danckwerts, Die Entscheidung über den Eilantrag, 110 GRUR 763, 764–65 (2008) (arguing that hearing the defendant cannot change the outcome of a proceeding if the facts of the case are undisputed).

 [175]. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, §§ 92425, 936.

 [176]. Id. § 542(2).

 [177]. Id. §§ 926, 936. If the plaintiff fails to do so within the time period set by the court, the preliminary injunction has to be rescinded by the court. Decisions in principal proceedings follow general rules.

 [178]. See BVerfG, June 6, 2017, 1 BvQ 16/17, 1 BvQ 17/17, 1 BvR 764/17, 1 BvR 770/17, ¶ 7, http://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/DE/2017/06/qk20170606_1bvq001617.html.

 [179]. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, §§ 921, 945. The purpose of the bond is solely to serve as a security for a defendant’s claim for damages in case the preliminary injunction is later revoked.

 [180]. Jürgens, Turbulenzen im Presseprozessrecht, supra note 150, at 10.

 [181]. Haertlein, supra note 158, § 935, ¶ 27. German case law is split on whether courts can and will grant a motion for a preliminary injunction which had been previously filed in another court. See, e.g., Kammergericht Berlin [KG Berlin] [Court of Appeals Berlin] Oct. 10, 2016, GRUR 128, at ¶ 3. It is unclear whether plaintiffs are obliged to disclose to the second court that they had requested a preliminary injunction from another court, and courts will usually not inquire about this. Judges might only raise this issue if the circumstances of the case make it apparent that the request had been filed elsewhere before, for example if the request was filed several weeks after the cease and desist letter was sent. See Helmut Köhler, in Gesetz gegen den unlauteren Wettbewerb: Kommentar § 12 UWG ¶ 3.16a (Helmut Köhler et al. eds., 36th ed. 2018); Otto Teplitzky, Unzulässiges forum-“hopping nach gerichtlichen Hinweisen, 62 WRP 917, 917–19 (2016).

 [182]. One exception to this rule is the regional court in Hamburg, which is reported to sometimes take more time than other major courts.

 [183]. Interview with attorney (May 17, 2017).

 [184]. Interview with attorney (Mar. 30, 2017).

 [185]. Apparently, judges in Frankfurt currently apply rules concerning the standard of proof regarding the truth of reports on criminal acts by individuals in a way that is particularly advantageous for individuals.

 [186]. Gerhard Wagner, Rechtsstandort Deutschland im Wettbewerb 37–38 (2017).

 [187]. Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146, at 3065.

 [188]. See also Sascha Sajuntz, Die Entwicklung des Presse- und Äusserungsrechts in den Jahren 2012/2013, 67 NJW 25, 30 (2014).

 [189]. One interviewee even suggested that courts deliberately set the amount of controversy in a way that makes it impossible for parties to appeal decisions by the regional courts of appeals to the Federal Court of Justice. This claim seems dubious given the power of the Federal Court of Justice to review the determination of the amount in controversy of the lower courts. See Ingo Saenger, in Zivilprozessordnung EGZPO § 26, ¶ 10 (Ingo Saenger ed., 7th ed. 2017); see also BGH [Federal Court of Justice], May 15, 2014, GRUR-RS 11248, 2014.

 [190]. Rechtsanwaltsvergütungsgesetz [RVG] [Act on the Remuneration of Attorneys], May 5, 2004, BGBl. I at 718, 788, as amended by Act of Dec. 17, 2018 BGBl I at 2573, § 2, translation at http://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_rvg/index.html.

 [191]. On speed, see supra Section IV.B.3.

 [192]. See Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146, at 3066.

 [193]. Interview with attorney (Dec. 20, 2017).

 [194]. Interview with attorney (Feb. 26, 2018).

 [195]. Interview with attorney (Sept. 21, 2016).

 [196]. Id.

 [197]. Uwe Jürgens estimates that the revenues from press law cases heard by one of the major regional courts amount to around one million euros per year. Jürgens, Abgestürzte Gerichtsstände, supra note 146, at 3066.

 [198]. Case C-453/99, Courage v. Crehan, 2001 E.C.R. I-6314. On the impact of this decision, see Ioannis Lianos et al., Damages Claims for the Infringement of EU Competition Law ¶¶ 2.13–.16 (2015).

 [199]. Council Regulation (EU) 1/2003, of Dec. 16, 2002 on the Implementation of the Rules on Competition Laid Down in Articles 81 and 82 of the Treaty, 2003 O.J. (L 1) 1.

 [200]. Commision of the European Communities, White Paper on Damages Actions for Breach of the EC Antitrust Rules, COM (2008) 165 final (Apr. 2, 2008). On the development of private enforcement of European antitrust law in general, see David Ashton, Competition Damages Actions in the EU 37, ¶¶ 0.08–.25 (2d ed. 2018); Assimakis Komninos, Private Enforcement in the EU with Emphasis on Damages Actions, in Handbook on European Competition Law: Enforcement and Procedure 228, 23447 (2013); Lianos et al., supra note 198, ¶¶ 2.10–.45.

 [201]. Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union and the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union art. 101, May 9, 2008, 2008 O.J. (C 115) 88; Gesetz gegen Wettbewerbsbeschränkungen [GWB] [Act against Restraints of Competition], June 26, 2013, BGBl. I at 1750, 3245, as amended by Act of July 12, 2018 BGBl I at 1151, § 1, translation at https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_gwb/index.html [hereinafter German Act Against Restraints of Competition].

 [202]. The damage caused by a cartel is typically widely spread across a number of direct and indirect customers. U.S. civil procedure allows customers to file a class action lawsuit in order to recoup such damages in an effective manner. German civil procedure allows neither class actions nor contingency fees. As a result, German plaintiffs have relied on other mechanisms. In one model, a third party buys claims from different consumers, sues the cartel members in its own name and then distributes parts of the damages to the consumers. A company offering this model is Cartel Damage Claims, based in Brussels. In another model, a large consumer creates its own subsidiary to investigate systematically all relationships to its suppliers for potential antitrust violations. The subsidiary then sues these suppliers and collects damages. The German railway company Deutsche Bahn did this with a special unit called CRK4 and a subsidiary called Barnsdale Cartel Damage Solutions to enforce damage claims against numerous cartels the company had been harmed by. See Ashton, supra note 200, at 28283, ¶¶ 11.01–.07, 33234, ¶¶ 11.201–.204; Fabian Stancke, Rechtliche Rahmenbedingungen kartellrechtlicher Massenklagen, 68 Wirtschaft und Wettbewerb [WUW] 59, 59 (2018).

 [203]. These courts are based in Berlin, Bremen, Cologne, Dortmund, Düsseldorf, Erfurt, Frankfurt a.M., Gera, Hamburg, Hannover, Kassel, Kiel, Leipzig, Magdeburg, Mainz, Mannheim, Meiningen, Mühlhausen, Munich, Nuremburg-Fürth, Potsdam, Rostock, Saarbrücken, and Stuttgart.

 [204]. German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, §§ 17, 32.

 [205]. See supra note 11.

 [206]. German Act against Restraints of Competition, supra note 201, § 33b.

 [207]. Ashton, supra note 200, at 19091, ¶¶ 7.34–.36; Alexander Fritzsche et al., Die Praxis der privaten Kartellrechtsdurchsetzung in Deutschland, 4 Neue Zeitschrift für Kartellrecht [NZKart] 412, 418–20 (2016); Christian Kersting, Kartellschadensersatz: Haftungstatbestand, Bindungswirkung, Schadensabwälzung, in Die 9. GWB-Novelle 133, 142 (Christian Kersting & Rupprecht Podszun eds., 2017).

 [208]. See, e.g., Oberlandesgericht Jena [OLG Jena] [Court of Appeals Jena], Feb. 22, 2017, 67 WUW 203.

 [209]. Andreas Weitbrecht, Kartellschadensersatz 2017, 6 NZKart 106, 111 n.67 (2018), lists Dortmund, Hannover, and Mannheim as particularly active courts.

 [210]. Landgericht Dortmund [LG Dortmund] [Regional Court of Dortmund], Apr. 1, 2004, 54 WUW 1182; see Thomas Thiede & Tim Träbing, Praxis des Anscheinsbeweises im Kartellschadensersatzrecht ein Rechtsprechungsbericht, 4 NZKart 422, 424 (2016).

 [211]. For an overview, see Thiede & Träbing, supra note 210, at 424–27.

 [212]. Landgericht Mannheim [LG Mannheim] [Regional Court of Mannheim], May 4, 2012, 12 NJOZ 1635.

 [213]. Interview with attorney (Mar. 18, 2016).

 [214]. Id.

 [215]. Geschäftsverteilung des Landgerichts Mannheim für das Geschäftsjahr 2018, Regional Court of Mannheim (2017) (on file with the authors).

 [216]. Press release,                                                         Regional Court of Mannheim, Landgericht Mannheim baut wirtschaftsrechtlichen Schwerpunkt weiter aus: Zusätzliche Kammer für Kartellverfahren eingerichtet, (Sept. 24, 2018), http://www.landgericht-mannheim.de/pb/,Lde/Startseite/Aktuelles/Pressemitteilung+
vom+24_09_2018/?LISTPAGE=1167835.

 [217]. A recent study of published court decisions confirms such differences between courts: of the fifty-one first instance court decisions on antitrust follow-on lawsuits that were decided between 2003 and 2017, eleven cases were decided by the regional court in Mannheim, ten in Dortmund and six in Berlin. Lukas Rengier, Kartellschadenersatz in Deutschland die ersten 15 Jahre in Zahlen und Lehren für die Zukunft, 68 WUW 613, 619 (2018).

 [218]. BGH [Federal Court of Justice], Dec. 11, 2018, 7 NZKart 101 (2019) (holding that cartels do not have sufficient typical patterns that are necessary to create a prima facie evidentiary rule under German civil procedure law); see also Tilmann Hertel et al., Anscheinsbeweis Adieu – Gezeitenwechsel für den Schadensnachweis bei Follow-on Klagen, 7 NZKart 86, 86–88 (2019); Stefan Rützel, Abschied vom “doppelten Anscheinsbeweis”, 69 WUW 130, 131–32 (2019) (both discussing the implications of the decision of the Federal Court of Justice for future antitrust litigation).

 [219].               In 2017, the German legislature enacted a statutory burden shifting in a reform of the Act against Restraints of Competition. According to Section 33a(2) of the revised Act, there is now a rebuttable presumption that a cartel caused damage to the plaintiff, thereby overcoming challenges (2) and (3) mentioned before. While the plaintiff can benefit from this burden shifting as far as the existence of a damage is concerned, she still has to prove the damage amount (challenge (4)). The decision of the Federal Court of Justice dealt with a case before the statutory burden shifting came into force. It is too early to tell how both the statutory burden shifting and the decision by the Federal Court of Justice will influence decision patterns by lower courts in antitrust follow-on lawsuits. For example, in a decision from January 2019,, the Court of Appeals of Düsseldorf did not follow the (higher) Federal Court of Justice, but stuck to its own case law and applied a prima facie evidentiary presumption in an antitrust follow-on lawsuit, OLG Düsseldorf [Court of Appeals Düsseldorf], Jan. 1, 2019, 7 NZKart 157 (2019).

 [220]. Interview with attorney (Mar. 18, 2016).

 [221]. Rengier, supra note 217, at 618.

 [222]. Interviewees have told us of a case featuring up to ten defendants and fifteen third-parties (Streitverkündete), in which all of these parties replied to the plaintiff’s arguments separately; and another case involving six cartel members and thirty-two injured firms with ninety-six production facilities in fourteen E.U. member states. In yet another case, the plaintiffs submitted 320,000 receipts which were printed as hard copies twelves times and were delivered to the court in 475 folders. Generally, it is not uncommon for judges in these cases to read hundreds of pages of briefs.

 [223]. Gerhard Klumpe & Thomas Thiede, Ergänzende Überlegungen zu Lukas Rengier, Kartellschadensersatz in Deutschland, 7 NZKart 136, 138 (2019).

 [224]. Interview with attorney (Feb. 18, 2017).

 [225]. Note that, while the amount in controversy in follow-on lawsuits can be in the hundreds of millions of euros or even higher, the German Act on Court Fees (Gerichtskostengesetz) puts a statutory cap on the amount in controversy at €30 million. German Act on Court Fees, supra note 124, § 39(2). This severely limits the ability of courts to generate court fees in very large proceedings.

 [226]. Statistische Ämter des Bundes und der Länder, Ergebnisse der Steuerstatistiken 33 (2014).

 [227]. Theoretically, one could imagine that courts in states without such industry could step in and position themselves as vigilant antitrust enforcers. However, at least for pan-European cartels, it may be impossible for plaintiffs to file a lawsuit in such states if no cartel member has a production facility there. As one of our interview partners noted, the prevalence of the Stuttgart and Dortmund district courts in antitrust follow-on litigation may also result from the fact that two large cartel members (Daimler and ThyssenKrupp) are headquartered in the respective districts. For venue rules in pan-European damage claims cases, see infra note 232.

 [228]. See Melissa Eddy & Jack Ewing, As Europe Sours on Diesel, Germany Groups Fights to Save It, N.Y. Times Int’l Edition, Aug. 2, 2017, at B2 (“Vehicles are Germany’s single most important export product and, in many parts of the world, the most visible symbol of German engineering prowess. Within the country, BMWs, Mercedes-Benzes and Porsches are a source of considerable pride and an essential part of the postwar national self-image.”); Jack Ewing, As German Election Looms, Politicians Face Voters’ Wrath for Ties to Carmakers, N.Y. Times Int’l Edition, Sept. 13, 2017, at B1 (“Sometimes it is hard to tell where the German government ends and the auto industry begins. . . . For decades, the German government has been a crucial ally for carmakers, operating as a de facto lobbyist for the industry”).

 [229]. Exceptions to this rule include the Court of Justice of the European Union, which has the power to determine the interpretation of E.U. law.

 [230]. The current regulation is the recast Brussels I Regulation. Regulation No. 1215/2012, of the European Parliament and of the Council of Dec. 12, 2012 on Jurisdiction and the Recognition and Enforcement of Judgments in Civil and Commercial Matters, 2012 O.J. (L 351) 1 (EU). In its CDC decision, the European Court of Justice dealt with the original Brussel I Regulation from 2001. Case C-352/13, Cartel Damage Claims (CDC) Hydrogen Peroxide SA v. Evonik Degussa GmbH, 2015 ECR I-335 ¶¶ 36. The European Court of Justice did not allow follow-on lawsuits in E.U. member states where the cartel had a negative impact on prices, but no cartel member had a domicile.

 [231]. Regulation No. 864/2007, of the European Parliament and of the Council of July 11, 2007 on the Law Applicable to Non-contractual Obligations (Rome II), art. 6, 2007 O.J. (L 199) 40, 44 (EC).

 [232]. This only holds true if the plaintiff sues cartel members at a location where one member is domiciled. If the plaintiff sues cartel members at the location where they formed the cartel, the plaintiff can only claim the damages that occurred in the respective E.U. member state. This explains the importance of identifying an anchor defendant in pan-European follow-on cases. See Case C-352/13, 2015 ECR I-335 ¶¶ 33, 54 ; Jens Adolphsen & Frederik Möller, Bestimmung des anwendbaren Rechts, in Kartellverfahren und Kartellprozess: Handbuch 1173, 1184, ¶ 38 (Hans-Georg Kamann et al. eds., 2017); Wolfgang Wurmnest, Forum Shopping bei Kartellschadensersatzklagen und die Kartellschadensersatzrichtlinie, 5 NZKart 2, 5 (2017) [hereinafter Wurmnest, Forum Shopping]; Wolfgang Wurmnest, International Jurisdiction in Competition Damages Cases Under the Brussels I Regulation: CDC Hydrogen Peroxide, 53 Common Mkt. L. Rev. 225, 227–28 (2016). If none of the cartel members are domiciled in the country where the plaintiff intends to sue, the plaintiff may still sue a subsidiary of a cartel member and argue that the subsidiary participated in the implementation of the cartel, thereby using it as an anchor defendant. See Provimi Ltd. v. Agentis Animal Nutrition SA [2003] EWHC (QB) 961, 7 Eur. L. Rep. 517, 517–18 (Eng.).

 [233]. This does not mean that a German court dealing with a follow-on lawsuit will see courts from other E.U. member states as a direct competitor. As one of our interviewees noted, the typical German judge may still not see or even care that there is a competition emerging from other European countries.

 [234]. Understandably, a German attorney may not have an interest to advise his client to sue in another country, as a local attorney would take over this case. One of the attorney interviewees explained that “[i]f the lawsuit is not filed in Germany, then it will probably be filed without us. So it is again a case without a wild boar. And parties without a wild boar are less good than parties with a wild boar.” Interview with attorney (Jan. 31, 2017).

 [235]. Matthijs Kuipers et al., Action for Damages in the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and Germany, 6 J. Eur. Competition L. & Prac. 129, 129–30 (2015). Similar to Germany, very few Dutch or U.K. decisions exist in which a court did not only rule on the general question of whether cartel members are liable for follow-on damages, but also awarded specific damages. Our interviewees also reported of strategies by potential defendants to block lawsuits by defendants in particular jurisdictions (for example, in the costly United Kingdom or in Israel) through filing an action for declaratory judgment that the cartel member is not liable in a country such as Germany or Italy.

 [236]. As nearly all cartel contracts and related documents are written in English, the Dutch, and the British court systems are at an important advantage. Many German courts will not accept expert opinions and other supplementary material in English. In the Netherlands, documents can be submitted in English (as well as Dutch, French or German). As to information technology, as reported above, many German courts still require documents to be filed on paper. In the Netherlands, plaintiffs can submit documents on DVD, and briefs are usually no longer than seventy pages.

 [237]. A plaintiff in a German court has to pay court fees in advance. In one well-known German antitrust follow-on lawsuit, the plaintiffs had to deposit €2.3 million in court fees in advance. See Wurmnest, Forum Shopping, supra note 232, at 7 n.86.

 [238]. As described supra text accompanying note 232, it is beneficial for plaintiffs to sue the cartel in a country in which one of the cartel members is domiciled, as the plaintiff can the claim European Unionwide damages in that proceeding. This may seem to count against the Netherlands, as fewer companies are domiciled in the Netherlands than in, for example, Germany. However, as mentioned supra note 232, it may be to sufficient to use the Dutch subsidiary of a cartel member as an anchor defendant, thereby overcoming this apparent hurdle.

 [239]. Arianna Andreangeli, The Consequences of Brexit for Competition Litigation: An End to a “Success Story”?, 38 Eur. Competition L. Rev. 228, 22829 (2017) (arguing that Brexit may reduce the appeal of U.K. courts).

 [240]. Ashton, supra note 200, at 8890, ¶¶ 4.12–.17.

 [241]. Ashton, supra note 200, at 31020, ¶¶ 11.116–.152.

 [242]. Andreangeli, supra note 239, at 233.

 [243]. See infra Section VII.B.4.

 [244]. See Graham & Van Zeebroeck, supra note 30, at 678.

 [245]. See Cotter, supra note 46, at 233–36. See generally Graham & Van Zeebroeck, supra note 30 (discussing patent litigation in Europe). In fact, patent litigation also has a global dimension. See Eun-Joo Min & Johannes Wichard, Cross-Border Intellectual Property Enforcement, in The Oxford Handbook of Intellectual Property Law 687, 687–89 (Rochelle C. Dreyfuss & Justine Pila eds., 2018). For recent papers that explore firm strategies in the “global patent wars” of the smartphone industry and related fields, see Stuart Graham & Saurabh Vishnubhakat, Of Smart Phone Wars and Software Patents, 27 J. Econ. Persp. 67, 67–71 (2013); Paik & Zhu, supra note 30, at 1398; Michael Elmer & Stacy Lewis, Where to Win: Patent-Friendly Courts Revealed, Managing Intell. Prop., Oct. 2010, at 1, 12.

 [246]. See supra Section VI.A.

 [247]. While many litigated patents originate from a patent issued by the European Patent Office, these patents are transformed into national patents after issuance. Therefore, technically, a patentee requesting an injunction in two different jurisdictions has to base his claim on the infringement of two separate national patents. In the late 1990s, mostly in the Netherlands, national courts nevertheless started issuing so-called cross-border injunctions covering multiple jurisdictions. This practice was perceived by some as an attempt to attract more cases to Dutch courts. It was effectively stopped by a judgment of the CJEU determining that national courts have exclusive jurisdiction to decide cases in which the validity of a national patent is at issue. C-4/03, Gesellschaft für Antriebstechnik mbH & Co. KG v. Lamellen und Kupplungsbau Beteiligungs KG, 2006 E.C.R. I-06523 ¶ 47. Later, the CJEU narrowed down this effective ban by allowing cross-border injunctions in preliminary proceedings. C-616/10, Solvay SA v. Honeywell Fluorine Products Europe BV and Others, 2012 E.C.R. I-06509 ¶ 56; see also Cotter, supra note 46, at 250–55; Tilman Müller-Stoy & Jörg Whal, The European Union: Jurisdiction, Cross-Border-Cases, Enforcement Directive and Unified Patent Court, in Patent Enforcement Worldwide: Writings in Honour of Dieter Stauder 57, 65 (Christopher Heath ed., 3d ed. 2015); Graham & Van Zeebroeck, supra note 30, at 674. In addition, U.K. courts offer potential defendants the ability to obtain a European Union–wide declaratory judgment that a product does not infringe a certain patent. Because U.K. courts lack jurisdiction to rule on the validity of patents in other jurisdictions, these defendants have to forego the opportunity to attack the validity of the patent. For additional discussion on this topic, see Gregory Bacon & Katie Rooth, Justiciability and Litigation of Foreign Patents in the English Courts, 12 J. Intell. Prop. L. & Prac. 851, 858 (2017). Once the so-called Unitary Patent and the Unified Patent Court are introduced on a European level, local divisions of the Unified Patent Court may be in much more direct competition than the current national patent courts in Europe. See Müller-Stoy & Whal, supra, at 69.

 [248]. There are some cases in which courts in different jurisdictions might nevertheless be regarded as viable alternatives. Plaintiffs might use injunctions issued in one jurisdiction as a bargaining chip in negotiations aimed at settling patent disputes across jurisdictions. Then, parties might aim for being the first to obtain an injunction in their favor irrespective of whether this injunction covers all the jurisdictions where the battle is playing out. Also, a country like Germany may be so important economically that it just may not make sense to sell a product in the European Union if a court has enjoined the sale of the product in Germany, even if the producer would still be allowed to sell the product in other European countries.

 [249]. See Cotter, supra note 46, at 235–36 (citing studies estimating that, as of 2000, the average cost of proceeding to judgment in a court of first instance were highest in the U.K. (between €150,000 for a small-medium case and €1.5 million for a larger case) and lowest in France (between €50,000 and €200,000), with Germany (between €50,000 and €250,000) and the Netherlands (between €60,000 and €200,000) lying in the middle).

 [250]. On the advantages and disadvantages of various European jurisdictions for patent infringement cases, see generally Luke McDonagh, European Patent Litigation in the Shadow of the Unified Patent Court (2016).

 [251]. Cotter, supra note 46, at 229; Herr & Grunwald, supra note 36, at 44; Malte Köllner et al., supra note 84, at 9–11 (analyzing patent litigation data from Darts IP suggesting that German courts stay proceedings at a lower rate than Dutch, French, or U.K. courts).

 [252]. See TC Heartland LLC v. Kraft Foods Grp. Brands LLC, 137 S. Ct. 1514, 1520 (2017).

 [253]. An important example is the decision whether to stay a proceeding, see supra Section III.B.4.

 [254].  Exceptions to this rule are limited to gross violations of procedural norms. See German Code of Civil Procedure, supra note 12, § 547.

 [255]. Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 245.

 [256]. On the role of specialization in competition among courts, see J. Jonas Anderson, Court Competition for Patent Cases, 163 U. Pa. L. Rev. 631, 636–37 (2015); Klerman & Reilly, supra note 1, at 303.

 [257].                Note that, even if there are multiple chambers with a certain specialization in a particular court, a potential plaintiff might be able to predict or even influence which chamber is going to hear a specific case. One of our interview partners indicated that applicable strategies include manipulating the order of plaintiffs in a multi-plaintiff lawsuit (if cases are allocated to chambers according to plaintiff names); withdrawing a lawsuit if the case ends up with the “wrong” chambers; or getting background information from the secretary of the court chamber. We were, however, unable to ascertain the existence and prevalence of such troubling attorney strategies, and doubt whether they play a major role.

 

California Constitutional Law: Direct Democracy – Article by David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay, Benjamin Gevercer & Meghan Fenzel

 

From Volume 92, Number 3 (March 2019)
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California Constitutional Law: Direct Democracy

David A. Carrillo,[*] Stephen M. Duvernay,[†] Benjamin Gevercer[‡] & Meghan Fenzel[*][*]

The California electorate amended the state constitution in 1911 to reserve to itself the powers of initiative, referendum, and recall. Most research on direct democracy in California focuses on its political science effects. We consider the substantive constitutional issues the electorate’s powers create and present a defense of direct democracy as a net positive force in California government.

We review every California constitutional amendment to date, distinguishing between legislatively proposed amendments and initiative amendments. We solve the enduring mystery of how many times the California constitution has been amended. We prove that the initiative process does not have a disproportionate effect on the amendment rate of the California constitution, and that the state legislature (not the electorate) is responsible for the vast majority of California’s constitutional changes. We also debunk the myths that California’s is the longest constitution in the world and that the state uses the initiative more than any other.

Next, we discuss the substantive constitutional issues the electorate’s direct democracy powers can raise. Critics frequently blame the initiative for many of the state’s woes, but we argue that direct democracy in California is a net social good. We show that while direct democracy’s cumulative quantitative and individual qualitative effects are indeed significant, they are not so severe that structural change is warranted. We identify one flaw in the initiative process that merits a solution. Recognizing, however, that any change is an unlikely prospect, we argue that the existing checks on the electorate are capable. Because direct democracy’s harms are adequately mitigated, there is no urgent need for fundamental change.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

A. Overview

B. Direct Democracy’s Design Considerations

I. CALIFORNIA’S DIRECT DEMOCRACY PROVISIONS

A. 1849–1911: No Direct Democracy

B. 1911: Direct Democracy Is Added to the State
Constitution

C. California’s Direct Democracy Tools Described

D. Constitutional Amendments Before 1912

E. Less Initiative Activity 1912–1959, More Initiative
Activity 1960–2017

F. Initiative Activity Quantitative Analysis

II. DIRECT DEMOCRACY’S EFFECTS ANALYZED

A. Complaints About Direct Democracy

B. Population Size

C. Money’s Impact

D. Effect on Turnout

E. California’s Lack of a True Majority Requirement
Harms Legitimacy

F. A Proposed Solution: The Dual Approval Quorum

III. THE EXISTING CHECKS ON THE ELECTORATE ARE SUFFICIENT

A. Single-Subject Rule

B. Revision and Amendment

C. Separation of Powers

D. Individual Rights

CONCLUSION

APPENDIX

 

INTRODUCTION

A.  Overview

This Article addresses an oft-debated question in California—just how problematic is direct democracy?—by challenging the premise. We quantitatively analyze how the electorate acts in California’s hybrid republic and show how that system prevents the electorate from unbalancing it. We reviewed all California constitutional amendments, parsing them between legislative and initiative. Our data show that the legislature is primarily responsible for constitutional change in California, not the electorate. We analyzed the initiative’s effects on the amendment rate, turnout, and other practical effects, and our results contradict the conventional wisdom that the initiative has disproportionate effects. Our substantive analysis similarly concludes that despite some notable outliers and one fixable problem, overall the existing checks on direct democracy are suited to the task. As a result, this Article stands apart from most scholarly work on California’s direct democracy tools: this is a defense of California’s hybrid republic.[1]

First, some conceptual definitions. Popular sovereignty and direct democracy are related but not synonymous terms; so too are “people” and “electorate” related but distinct. The people is the collective body of persons who constitute the state. The electorate is the subset of the people who can vote. We use popular sovereignty to describe the idea that in California, the people hold ultimate political power and delegate it to a government that persists only with their consent.[2] Direct democracy is any mechanism for an electorate to exercise political power without an intervening representative.[3]

California’s constitution has four direct democracy tools: initiative statute, initiative constitutional amendment, recall, and referendum. We focus on the initiative power to amend the state constitution. We divide California’s experience with popular constitutional change into three distinct periods. From the state’s creation in 1849 until 1911, the state constitution had no provision for any popular legislating. From 1911 (when the state’s direct democracy tools were instituted) to 1959, there was some direct constitutional change, but less compared with the period from 1960 to the present.

The other states vary widely in their constitutional change mechanisms.[4] As Appendix Table 1 (initiative states) illustrates, California is one of 24 states with the initiative (18 of which permit initiative constitutional amendments); every state has a legislative process for the government to place issues on the ballot; and every state except Delaware requires a popular vote to approve constitutional amendments.[5] This means that today most Americans live in the kind of hybrid republic that exists in California, where the state government includes both representative and direct democracy.[6]

B.  Direct Democracy’s Design Considerations

Direct democracy presents value-set tradeoffs between more public participation in lawmaking (which effectuates majority preferences but can be inefficient) and more government control (which may be more efficient but could compromise individual liberty). Overvaluing either principle (participation or efficiency) encourages extreme forms of government: mob rule or dictatorship. Avoiding either extreme requires adjusting the value set to achieve whatever the society finds is the most workable balance between direct popular participation and representative republicanism. Finding that balance is a process rather than a one-time event, and because the balance may change as a society evolves, the system needs a change mechanism to adjust as necessary.

Perspectives on how much direct popular control is best vary by time and location. For example, early American political thinking held that a political system’s successful functioning depended on striking and maintaining a proper balance between the government’s power and the people’s liberty.[7] This view divides the people and their government into two distinct groups with opposing interests that must be balanced to prevent either anarchy or tyranny.[8] The designers of the federal government intentionally eliminated direct popular participation almost entirely.[9] The representative republic designed by the 1787 convention excluded any direct popular involvement in lawmaking other than electing representatives, and the checks and balances in the divided-powers structure of that government were primarily aimed at controlling the government’s power, not permitting public participation.[10] In contrast, the early states experimented with incorporating direct popular lawmaking in their state constitutions.[11] California itself is a miniature example of this variation: its original 1849 constitution had no direct democracy features, and the state rebalanced its value-set choices in 1911, when it incorporated direct democracy tools into its current state constitution. These differences between the federal and state governments, and between early and current versions, do not necessarily indicate progressive thinking or show that one variant is superior; they are different charters for different purposes.

Direct democracy is not an inherent good and adding it to a government requires proper integration. Like any other power in a government, it may evolve beyond its limits and come to dominate the others.[12] Indeed, any divided-government system suffers from an inherent design problem: it is necessary to balance the risk that government gains too much power against the risk that containing its power prevents government from functioning at all. Direct democracy is no different from any other government design feature—for direct democracy in California to work well, it must function as a part of the state government, not as an outside actor. It must be included in the checks and balances to maintain both the optimal balance of internally separated powers and the external balance between the government and the governed.[13]

This is because the electorate is no less given to abusing its power than any other political actor.[14] Changing a government’s design to include a new legislative actor, as California did, requires either applying existing means of evaluating power disputes, or creating new methods specifically for the new actor.[15] And if governance is a social contract where the people cede their sovereignty to representatives so long as the government promotes the public interest, the contract still requires a self-regulatory feature when the people are their own representatives.[16] Though they ultimately are sovereign when acting as the people, when exercising legislative power (as California’s electorate does) the voters are a legislative branch of government that must be restrained to prevent the voters from oppressing themselves.[17]

These design concerns inform the questions we consider here: how the electorate acts in California’s hybrid republic, and how well that system prevents the electorate from unbalancing it. Our analysis does not support the common themes that California uses the initiative more than any other state, or that the state’s electorate amends the state constitution excessively.[18] We find instead that, rather than acting as an outside disruptor, the electorate is adequately incorporated into the California system and that there are functional checks on the electorate. This rebuts the charges that the initiative needs structural reform or that the electorate needs additional checks. The electorate is not the great disruptor of California government—on the contrary, it generally functions well as part of a balanced system. Most importantly, the initiative has served its intended purpose: overcoming legislative inaction to solve several major public policy problems.[19] Its negative effect on the California constitution is often overstated, and the existing checks on the electorate are suited to the task.

I.  CALIFORNIA’S DIRECT DEMOCRACY PROVISIONS

A.  1849–1911: No Direct Democracy

Direct democracy was not included in the federal constitutional design. In revolutionary America, popular sovereignty was a core concept: the idea that ultimate power rested with the people themselves collectively.[20] But the federal framers considered and rejected direct democracy as the model for the federal government.[21] Consequently, there are no direct democracy tools in the federal constitution.[22] And although direct democracy was a significant factor in the colonial, Confederation, and early federal periods, the initiative was largely absent nationwide during the 1800s until the Populist and Progressive movements revived it around 1900 as a political reform measure to limit special interest influence on government.[23]

Similarly, direct democracy was not part of California’s original constitutional design. Delegates discussed the general concept of popular sovereignty in the first week of California’s 1848 constitutional convention: “The declaration of the sovereignty of the people, emanates from the foundation of our Republic. It has been adhered to ever since, and . . . would be adhered to in all time to come.”[24] Article 2, section 1 of the state constitution incorporates that principle: “All political power is inherent in the people. Government is instituted for their protection, security, and benefit, and they have the right to alter or reform it when the public good may require.”[25] Yet that sentiment remained conceptual until the Progressive reforms in 1911.

B.  1911: Direct Democracy Is Added to the State Constitution

California’s direct democracy mechanisms were created during the Progressive era as a comprehensive package of voter reforms that resulted from popular dissatisfaction with corruption and influence in the state legislature.[26] The Progressives argued that the cure for the ills of democracy was more democracy.[27] During that period, South Dakota was the first state to adopt the initiative and referendum in 1898, and between 1898 and 1918, twenty-two states adopted direct democracy constitutional provisions.[28]

Hiram Johnson was elected California’s governor in 1910 on a reform campaign platform aimed at influential special interests, particularly the Southern Pacific Railroad.[29] In his inaugural address, Johnson declared his intent to add direct democracy tools to the state constitution.[30] At the time, Article XVIII, section 1 provided that amendments could only be proposed by the legislature with popular ratification.[31] In 1911, the legislature proposed amending the state constitution to add four new electorate powers: initiative statute, initiative amendment, referendum, and recall.[32] The voters approved those reforms in a special election on October 10, 1911.[33] Given its substantial powers, some observers call the electorate the state’s “fourth branch” of government.[34] But as the ranking in Table 1 shows, California voters do not use the initiative the most: the state ranks second in total initiative use, behind market leader Oregon.[35]

California is one of 18 states that permit citizen-initiated amendments, and one of 16 states where those amendments go directly on the ballot.[36]

C.  California’s Direct Democracy Tools Described

California has specific terms for each power the state electorate can exercise on its own: recall, referendum, and initiative.[37]

Recall is the electorate’s power to remove an elected official in a special election before the official’s regular term expires: “Recall is the power of the electors to remove an elective officer.”[38] The California electorate has only once used its recall power against a high state officer: the voters recalled Governor Gray Davis in 2003.[39] That was the first (and so far only) successful gubernatorial recall in California; at the time it was only the second in U.S. history (North Dakota’s governor was recalled in 1921), and the third (unsuccessful) attempt occurred in 2012 in Wisconsin. Nineteen states and the District of Columbia permit recalls.[40]

Outside the United States, the general term “referendum” is commonly used to describe any non-candidate election matter the electorate votes on.[41] Not so in California. The referendum is the electorate’s power to veto statutes passed by the legislature: “The referendum is the power of the electors to approve or reject statutes or parts of statutes except urgency statutes, statutes calling elections, and statutes providing for tax levies or appropriations for usual current expenses of the State.”[42] The referendum is not much used.[43] Between 1912 and 2016, a total of 89 referenda were titled and summarized for circulation. Of those, 39 (43.82%) failed to qualify for the ballot, and 50 (56.18%) qualified for the ballot. Of the 50 that qualified, voters approved the law in 21 instances (42%) and rejected the law in the remaining 29 referenda (58%).[44]

The initiative is a means for the electorate to place a legislative act (a statute or a constitutional amendment) on the ballot by signature petition and to enact such proposals by majority vote: “The initiative is the power of the electors to propose statutes and amendments to the Constitution and to adopt or reject them.”[45] Only the statewide electorate holds this power; a local community, for example, cannot use the initiative to enact statewide legislation.[46] Only the electorate can amend the California constitution.[47] California constitution article XVIII provides two amendment procedures: The legislature may propose amendments for voter approval, or the electorate may amend the state constitution through the initiative process. Revisions may be made only by convening a constitutional convention or by legislative referral to the electorate.[48] (We parse the distinctions between an amendment and a revision in Section III.B.) Once passed, the legislature cannot alter initiative measures without the electorate’s consent, and there is no executive veto.[49]

D.  Constitutional Amendments Before 1912

Before 1912, the state constitution was amended 85 times total: the 1849 constitution was amended just three times, and the 1879 constitution was amended 82 times.[50] The sole amendment procedure during this period (under both constitutions) required the legislature to propose each amendment for voter approval. Comparing the pre-1912 amendment numbers for the 1849 and 1879 constitutions shows that between these roughly similar thirty-year periods (18491878 and 18791912) the amendment ratio is 1:27.3. We suspect that the disparity stems from the fact that the 1849 constitution was shorter and simpler; as discussed below, some research shows that a long constitution invites more frequent amendment. Environmental factors such as California’s smaller population, simpler economy, and overall lower government activity before 1878 may also contribute to the disparity.

E.  Less Initiative Activity 1912–1959, More Initiative Activity 1960–2017

The pre- and post-1960 periods have distinct levels of initiative activity: less activity before 1960 and more after. (We define “activity” here as the number of initiative amendments approved by the voters in a given period.) As the data in Table 2 (initiative amendments by period) show, although initiative activity increased after 1960, the number of legislative amendments and the total number of amendments decreased during that period. This is particularly interesting given that the later period is ten years longer than the earlier period.

The total number of amendments made in these time periods is similar: 225 amendments from 1912 to 1959 (47 years), and 208 amendments from 1960 to 2017 (57 years). That is only a 7.85% difference, or a 7.56% decrease for all amendments. And the total amendments averages-per-year are not grossly divergent: 4.79 before 1960 compared with 3.65 after 1960 (a 27% difference, or a 23.8% decrease). But from 1912 to 1959, just 17 amendments were initiatives—the remaining 208 were legislatively referred.[51] That ratio is 1:12.2. Note that the tally in each period is affected by the fact that before the 1960s, bond measures were constitutional amendments—19 of the amendments during this period were bond issuances. In 1962 the electorate adopted Proposition 6, amending the constitution to permit bond measures to go on the ballot as statutes instead of constitutional amendments. Because of this change any bond measures after 1962 drop out of the amendment tally. This added to the obvious contemporaneous rate change (see supra Figure 1) justifies the pre-and-post-1960 division. It also affects the initiative to legislative amendment ratio: removing the 19 bond amendments changes the ratio slightly to 1:11.1, which does not significantly alter the comparison between the two periods.

From 1960 to 2017, California voters approved 208 constitutional amendments: 36 initiative constitutional amendments and 172 legislative constitutional amendments in this 57-year period (0.63 per year), which is twice as many initiative amendments (36 versus 17); the average-yearly-adoption-rate doubled (0.63 per year versus 0.36 per year); and the initiative-to-legislative amendment ratio (1:4.8) is approximately twice the pre-1960 ratio (1:12.2 with bond amendments and 1:11.1 without them). Together, the change in averages and ratios indicates relatively greater initiative amendment activity after 1960. The electorate also enacted 15 constitutional revisions during the second period; given the distinction between amendments and revisions (discussed in section III.B), we do not include these in the amendments tally.[52] But the main conclusionthat the legislature is the primary constitutional change initiatorremains unchanged: in this period the legislature initiated approximately five times as many constitutional amendments as the electorate did.

It is difficult to determine what sparked the increase in initiative constitutional amendments since 1960. Several constitutional changes could be contributing factors. The 15 constitutional revisions between 1962 and 1974 made significant changes and deletions. Like most observers, we note that the adoption of Proposition 13 in 1978 (a change in the state’s residential real property taxation) caused a wave of similar tax reform nationwide,[53] which occurred during this period of higher initiative amendment activity. We note that the electorate enacted 19 initiative constitutional amendments before Proposition 13, and 33 since. And during this period, Proposition 1A in 1966 created a full-time legislature; that measure is credited with professionalizing the legislature and providing it significantly more authority and resources.[54] It is possible that a full-time legislature is more active than a part-time legislature and that greater legislative activity prompts more initiative use to check the legislature. Finally, Figure 7 shows that over time legislative and initiative constitutional amendments have converged. There is no doubt that California saw more initiative activity in the period following 1960 relative to the preceding period, but we decline to speculate about what combination of social, political, and economic factors caused the increase.

F.  Initiative Activity Quantitative Analysis

Our research shows that from 1849 to 2017, the California constitution was amended 518 times.[55] Since the initiative became available in 1912, the state constitution was amended 433 times total: Of those 53 were voter initiatives (12% of all amendments since 1912) and the remaining 380 (88%) were legislative proposals. And including constitutional revisions, the California constitution was changed 539 times.

California ranks second in its overall use of the initiative, and while the California constitution has been amended more than most other states, it is not the most-amended state constitution (Alabama’s is).[56] Part of the reason California’s constitution has a higher number of initiative amendments than some other states is the fact that compared to them, California has the least onerous procedural requirements for the electorate to enact constitutional amendments.[57] The usual conclusion is that the initiative process has a substantial effect on the rate of constitutional amendment in the state.[58]

Our data show that the opposite is true: the initiative process does not have a disproportionate effect on the amendment rate of the California constitution.[59] Initiative amendments (53) make up just 12% of the total ballot measures (433) amending the constitution from 1912 to 2017.[60] Nor is it surprising that California’s constitution is longer or has more amendments than the federal charter. State constitutions tend to be longer than the federal government’s because they design different political systems: the state is a general government, while the federal government has limited powers. And state constitutions (including California’s) generally have more accessible amendment procedures than the onerous process provided in the federal constitution; as a result, “every state constitution is amended more frequently than the U.S. Constitution.”[61] As of 2017, the aggregate state constitutional amendments number 7,586—over 150 amendments per state on average, which is over ten times the federal amendment rate.[62] These differences in kind, not degree, mean that the state and federal amendment rates are not comparable.

California’s constitution does have a relatively high number of amendments compared with other states.[63] Some scholars explain this with practical features: its age, length, and complexity.[64] Our analysis does not support that theory, but neither do we think the initiative is to blame.[65] California’s 1879 constitution is the twentieth oldest state constitution overall.[66] Of the 16 states with initiative amendments that go directly on the ballot, California has the seventholdest constitution, the highest number of amendments, and the highest amendment rate.[67] California’s constitution is the seventh longest U.S. state constitution.[68] But comparing California to other similar states shows at most weak evidence that the initiative is responsible for California’s relatively high amendment number.

As Table 3 (all states ranked) shows, the 20 oldest constitutions divide evenly by length, with ten in the top 50% and ten in the bottom 50%. The 20 most-amended constitutions also do not show a strong length correlation: of the 20 most amended constitutions 13 are in the top 50% and 7 are in the bottom 50%.[69] And most telling: only 9 of the 20 most-amended constitutions are initiative amendment states. California is the only one of the topfive mostamended states with initiative amendments, and neither of the two closest statesSouth Carolina (500 amendments) and Texas (491 amendments)has initiative amendments. This shows that availability of citizen initiative amendments is at most a contributing factor to a relatively high amendment number.[70] And it counters the oft-made claim that California is at the “radical end” of the direct democracy spectrum.[71]

 We compiled data on initiative measures generally and initiative constitutional amendments specifically from 1912 (the firstyear initiatives appeared on the ballot) to 2017, as follows.[72]

 These data permit several plausible conclusions. Most importantly, initiative amendments have nearly the same success rate as initiatives generally, which shows that an electorate attempt to amend the state constitution is about as likely to pass or fail as any other initiative measure.

From 1912 to 2017:

  • 19% of all titled initiatives qualified for the ballot (376/1952).
  • 6.8% of all titled initiatives passed (132/1952).
  • 35% of all qualified initiatives passed (132/376).
  • 34% of all qualified initiative amendments passed (53/154).

These results also show that as more initiatives are proposed, there is no corresponding increase of the rate of qualifying. Figure 1 shows that while the number of initiatives being titled as ballot measures increased significantly over time, there is at most a modest increase in the number of initiatives qualifying for the ballot. Nor do they rise and fall in tandem over time. Figure 2 shows that while the number of qualifying and approved initiatives did increase, neither did so to the same degree as the number of titled measures. Interestingly, Figure 3 shows that the change rates for qualified and approved initiatives correspond; the fact that they rise and fall roughly in tandem may indicate that there is a maximum possible success rate for initiatives on any given ballot, regardless how many initiatives are qualified.

This potential “change tolerance” figure contradicts the down-ballot falloff and voter fatigue arguments that are commonly leveled against the initiative. Instead, our data show that no matter how many proposals are circulated, only a consistently low number of them will qualify, and of those qualified only a consistently low percentage will pass.[73] Whether comparing titled to qualified measures (Figure 1), or qualified to approved (Figure 2), the takeaway is the same: most proposals fail, either at the qualification or the approval stage. The most dramatic discrepancy is between titled and approved measures (Figure 3), which shows an overall titled-to-approved ratio of 14:1—just a 7% chance of any given measure succeeding.

Increasing the number of initiatives and amendments on the ballot does not produce a concurrent increase in the success rate of those proposals. More proposals mean more will pass, but the likelihood of success remains low. While the total number of qualified initiatives and amendments has increased since 1960, the qualifying and approval rates have remained consistently low.[74] As Figure 5 shows, the disparity between initiatives qualified and amendments qualified remains fairly consistent over time, and a significant rise in the number of qualified initiatives corresponds with only a modest increase in qualified amendments.[75]

Initiative amendments occur less frequently than statutory measures. The simplest explanation is that, as Tables 4 and 5 show, fewer initiative amendments qualify for the ballot. Since 1912, of the 376 initiatives qualified, fewer than half (154) were amendments; and of the 132 initiatives approved fewer than half (53) were amendments. Comparing Figure 4 (initiative amendments approved) and Figure 8 (all initiatives approved) shows that the respective approval rates for all initiatives and initiative amendments are similarly variable and generally under a 50% passage rate; this is consistent with the overall passage average of around 35% for each. Figure 6 shows that amendments are qualified and approved in lower proportions than initiative measures generally, and while the quantity of initiative and amendment approvals are both increasing over time, the number of approved amendments per decade has remained in the single digits until this decade, while the total number of approved initiatives has increased significantly.

The electorate has been far less impactful with its constitutional change power than the legislature, which contradicts the conventional wisdom that California’s electorate overuses its amendment power.[76] As Table 6 shows, from 1912 to 2017, the electorate approved 433 amendments, but the overwhelming majority (380, or 87.8%) were legislatively proposed; only 53 amendments (12.2% of all amendments since 1912) have been initiative measures. This shows that the effect of initiative constitutional amendments is not as dramatic as the conventional wisdom holds. Instead, the state legislature has initiated the clear majority of constitutional change in California, even after 1912.[77] While overall initiative process use is rising, the increase is slow, and its impact on the constitution remains at a consistently low level.[78] And because court challenges to approved initiatives are common, some are partly invalidated or never take effect at all.[79]

But this may be changing: as Figure 7 shows, the trend lines for legislative and initiative constitutional amendments recently converged, as over the past forty years legislative action declined sharply and electorate action increased slightly.[80] And Figures 4 and 6 may indicate a possible recent upward trend in initiative amendment approval rates. Because we do not have complete data for this decade these possible indications should be viewed with caution.

 

II.  DIRECT DEMOCRACY’S EFFECTS ANALYZED

A.  Complaints About Direct Democracy

With its hybrid government, California could benefit from the best aspects of both representative government and direct democracy or be paralyzed by the worst features of each. In the first scenario, the state can moderate direct democracy’s negative effects with its representative institutions, while its direct democracy institutions can mitigate a republic’s undesirable tendencies. Or California’s system may permit a small and unrepresentative segment of the electorate to make binding policy decisions for the state, reducing elected representative efficiency and devaluing minority interests.[81] We considered which scenario best describes the state and how successful the state is at balancing these competing dynamics. We conclude that California’s direct democracy tools are a net positive. California now has 105 years of experience with popular constitutional change. Its experience shows that direct democracy institutions can be as effective as traditional governmental institutions, particularly when direct democracy is combined with designed structural checks. For this state, the wisdom of crowds is real, albeit imperfect.[82]

Having direct democracy in a state constitution can be a net good, in theory, for several reasons: it is a check on the institutional branches of government; it encourages citizen participation in policy debates and governance; and it permits the governmentgoverned relationship to adapt to changed circumstances. All that assumes adequate institutional checks on the electorate’s power. In practice, California proves the theory: after a century of initiatives, California thrives.[83] The initiative does not supplant representative government, it supplements it.[84] Judicial review and the future electorate’s power to reverse past acts provide adequate safeguards.[85] And while the electorate sometimes creates problems for itself, the electorate more commonly uses the initiative to solve major institutional problems.

For example, in 1990, Proposition 140 imposed legislative terms limits, ending an era of lifetime legislative service.[86] In 2010, Proposition 20 created the California Citizens Redistricting Commission to stop partisan fights over drawing electoral districts, and Proposition 25 ended the required two-thirds majority budget vote requirement that caused chronically late budgets.[87] All were initiative amendments that tackled problems the legislature was unable or unwilling to address—exactly the initiative’s intended use. And as our quantitative analysis shows, the initiative is more commonly deployed cooperatively, with the legislature and the electorate working together to solve policy problems.[88] When it does act alone, the electorate is fairly conservative: the average success rate is under 40% for all metrics we evaluated, and the approval rate remains fairly constant almost independent of how many measures are proposed. That data and history do not support the conclusion that California’s electorate is a destructive political actor. But there are counterarguments, which we now consider.

Researchers have shown that direct democracy as a government institution can have both intended and unintended effects. Counterintuitively, the intended effects can be negatives, while the unintended effects can be positives.

The intended effects have negative consequences. Direct democracy was intended to (and does) increase participation and make government more responsive to electorate views on some issues, but it also makes government less efficient and less effective.[89] Unsurprisingly, the legislature suffers from the same inefficiency, which is a known and intended consequence of representative government.[90] A presently good solution for the proponent interest group may prove unworkable when applied to the population at large going forward.[91] Direct democracy has similar process inefficiencies to legislative action (enacting laws is costly), and it cannot adjust a proposal either before or after enactment without repeating the entire initiative process (again, costly).

Direct democracy’s indirect effects can be net positives. The single-subject nature of initiatives necessarily concentrates voter power on an individual issue, as with a single exercise against one representative in a recall.[92] Yet having the initiative available can improve elected official performance on issues that are not the subject of initiative action, because the electorate “saves” its limited resources for votes on the highest-interest issues, which in turn improves outcomes by focusing representative attention on those issues while also allowing them to devote more resources to other issues.[93]

The charge that initiative states are more poorly governed than non-initiative states[94] is a chicken-and-egg argument: do the legislature’s shortcomings encourage initiative use, or does using the initiative prevent the legislature from being effective?[95] And the answer depends on how one defines “effectiveness.” Direct democracy improves achievement of electorate preferences, and government responsiveness to voter preferences is itself a performance index. In other words, voters are more likely to get what they want, and the government they deserve, which may imply a difference between what scholars think is a measure of effective government and what that concept means to the electorate.[96] Viewing direct democracy from an economic perspective provides the same result: democracy is competitive government, and the alternative is monopoly government. From that perspective, electoral competition is the best guarantee that government will provide the voters with their preferred results, so democracy is the best method of satisfying voter preferences.[97]

Some scholars argue that the initiative’s potential negative effects outweigh its potential positives.[98] The initiative has been criticized for its disorganizing and bloating effects on the state constitution since the Progressive reforms were enacted in 1911.[99] Citizens may be too uninformed to make good decisions on public policy issues.[100] Initiatives force voters into a binary choice on an issue, and so fail to encourage debate and consensus.[101] Initiatives cannot weigh the intensity of interest group views. Initiatives forgo the legislative process of translating community preferences into policy through deliberation.[102] A legislature has lower transaction costs than the initiative process, and by reducing the transaction costs of bargaining, the legislative process increases the probability that political factions will cooperate and reach consensus.[103]

Even with democracy it is possible to have too much of a good thing.[104] Direct democracy was originally conceived as a necessary brake on the influence of wealthy corporate interests, but it is now criticized as having outgrown its initial purpose and as a vehicle for an excess of democracy.[105] It is further criticized as creating conflicting policy mandates that cripple the state government, ultimately encouraging more initiative activity to address government dysfunction in a process of diminishing returns.[106] California voters complain about the sheer number of ballot propositions and their confusing wording,[107] which can hinder educated consideration of ballot measures.[108] Voters favor improvements to the initiative process that increase opportunities for informed deliberation.[109] One scholar argues that the initiative:

  • Creates worse outcomes and weakens the democratic process,
  • Makes suboptimal outcomes more likely because the issues are too complex for the electors to understand, and
  • Prevents debate because issues are presented in final form or at most as competing alternatives.[110]

Yet these arguments against direct democracy institutions are equally valid against representative systems.[111] An argument against direct democracy is one against having any democracy at all.[112] Initiative measures are not limited to presenting a single set of alternatives; nothing prevents competing solutions or paired initiative measures from appearing on the same ballot.[113] The legislative filtering effect has a direct democracy equivalent: the large gap between titled, qualified, and approved measures shows that the electorate engages in a similar filtering process in that not all ideas make it to the ballot and not all are approved. While voters are more likely to feel somewhat ambivalent about the initiative process in general (consistent with voter dissatisfaction with government overall), voters are comfortable with their ability to properly evaluate individual ballot propositions.[114] And the ignorant-electorate hypothesis proves too much: an electorate unable to make good decisions on initiative measures is equally incapable of choosing good representatives—a hypothesis that undermines the very foundation of a representative republic.[115] California’s experience shows that voters are capable of understanding electoral issues and becoming sufficiently informed to make decisions.[116]

The practical reality of California’s direct democracy institutions is they are neither as bad as their critics believe nor as good as their supporters believe. The presence of initiatives on a ballot has only a small turnout-increasing effect in presidential elections; the same is true when initiatives are present on midterm ballots.[117] But in general, initiative propositions do increase voter turnout, which translates to a more informed and involved electorate.[118] With some variation, the available statistical evidence shows that the part of the electorate that actually votes on initiative ballot propositions is relatively wellinformed, conscientious, and cautious.[119] And there is evidence that, rather than discouraging participation in representative government, or causing interest groups to substitute action in one arena for another, the initiative increases opportunities for political involvement and action overall.[120] Overall, in direct democracy systems there is little to show that initiative outcomes are inferior to legislative outcomes.[121]

With that overview, we now consider several related direct democracy effects: population size, money, turnout, and majority approval. Of those, we conclude that the one problem that calls for a solution is majority approval.

B.  Population Size

In theory, direct democracy’s effectiveness is inversely related to the community’s size: the smaller the community, the more effective direct democracy is at achieving the goals of government.[122] Direct democracy, in its earliest conception, could only operate in small communities—a larger community where the people could not conveniently meet to personally discuss public matters required another system.[123] Representative government is the usual solution to the more complex needs of a larger community.[124] Indeed, the experience of the ancient Greeks suggests that the maximum population for a successful direct democracy is 5,000 to 10,000 citizens.[125] In the American revolutionary period there was significant experimentation with direct democracy, both before and after the 1789 constitution.[126] The founding generation’s experience resulted in a profound suspicion of undiluted direct democracy.[127] This may explain the fact that modern pure direct democracy primarily exists only in town-size communities with populations comparable to the ancient Greek city-states.[128] This evidence, historical and modern, of experiments with direct democracy suggests that significant use of direct democracy is effective only in small communities and for limited issues.[129]

California currently has a population of 39.5 million, including 24.8 million eligible voters, 19.4 million registered voters, and 14.6 million who voted in the 2016 presidential election.[130] So California should be too large to benefit from direct democracy. It should be both impractical and undesirable to use direct democracy in a community California’s size. Impractical, because even with modern electronic communication means it is impossible to fully engage such a large electorate. Undesirable, because the relatively low percentage of voters needed to qualify and pass measures risks majority tyranny.[131] The chronically low voter turnout and cost of initiatives could be symptoms of the over-large population using direct democracy in California. But as we discuss in Section III.D, voter turnout is low and declining nationwide, regardless of state size or initiative availability.[132] The evidence we review there does not show a correlation between low turnout and the initiative. And as we discussed in Section III.A, the evidence for the initiative compelling suboptimal governing outcomes is weak. Rather than indicating a basic incompatibility between direct democracy and larger populations, the core turnout issue is the “slim majority” problem we discuss in Section III.E.

C.  Money’s Impact

Currently, an initiative statute requires 365,880 signatures, and a constitutional amendment requires 585,407;[133] at a rate of two to three dollars (or more) per signature, any interest group lacking funds in the million-dollar range will be excluded from the process.[134] And the cost of qualifying an initiative measure for the ballot has increased dramatically over time, from a median of approximately $45,000 in 1976 to nearly $3 million by 2006.[135] Consequently, the very issues that are up for debate during any given election are largely dependent on choices made by interest groups with sufficient funds to qualify initiative measures for the ballot.[136] We think the explanation here is correlation, not causation. Money’s effect on campaigns has proved to be less than suspected: well-funded corporate interest campaigns succeed at a lower rate than initiatives generally, and the best success rate of particularly well-funded campaigns is in securing a “no” vote, which is also the most common voter reaction to initiative measures.[137]

D.  Effect on Turnout

In theory, direct democracy should foster voter engagement. According to the Condorcet Jury Theorem, where right answers exist and the voting group has average competence, the majority will arrive at the right answer as the size of the voting population increases.[138] In practice, this means majority voting rules work best when there is high turnout. But voting nationwide has been declining for decades, across all ballots.[139] So does direct democracy increase turnout in practice? As with the other empirical studies we reviewed, the results on this point are mixed, with a small net positive effect: ballot initiatives are more likely than not to increase voter turnout. Ballot propositions do not increase turnout in presidential election years, when voters are most engaged with the presidential campaign, but they do increase turnout during midterm elections.[140] And initiatives increase turnout in off-year elections.[141] Citizen-initiative races attract the most attention and have the greatest effect on turnout, while uncompetitive legislative initiatives and referenda have little effect.[142]

Turnout effects can be self-sustaining: because they are known effects, proponents may factor them into their timing strategy to best target their voters, and so compound the initiative’s turnout effects. For ballot measure proponents who seek to appeal to an intense minority of voters, waiting for a low turnout gubernatorial election may be the best path to approval. Because ballot measures pass with a simple majority of votes cast on that measure, propositions become law in California regardless of turnout levels.[143] Low turnout reduces the signature requirements to qualify for the ballot. Qualifying with a lower threshold, the proponents could then target a low-interest election.[144]

To curb this practice and its effects, the California legislature took action in 2011 with Senate Bill 202 (“S.B. 202”), requiring any measure approved after July 1, 2011 to go on general election ballots only.[145] The bill’s sponsors were concerned that “special interests” would “game the system” in low turnout elections, justifying the move to consolidate to general elections.[146] While S.B. 202 largely solved the turnout problem, it created another: by consolidating ballot measures to general elections only, general election voters are now overwhelmed with lengthy ballots.[147] Voters faced with a long ballot tend to opt out of educating themselves on all the issues, harming both participation and deliberation levels, and benefiting the status quo by making abstentions and “no” votes more likely.[148]

Overall, there is no reason to believe that California’s low voter turnout is an adaptation to the higher process burden of achieving consensus in a larger polity. If that were true, the 24 states with initiative powers would have correspondingly lower voter turnout rates than the other 26 states. Instead, as Table 7 (turnout) shows, voter turnout rates are consistently low nationwide.[149] And there is a positive correlation between turnout and citizen initiatives during non-presidential election years. We conclude that California’s low voter turnout reflects broader turnout trends and is not a reaction to direct democracy. Direct democracy does not deter turnout, but lengthy ballots do result in greater voter abstention on down-ballot propositions and races.

E.  California’s Lack of a True Majority Requirement Harms Legitimacy

Having discounted population, money, and turnout, we turn to the one problem we see in the state’s direct democracy system that needs addressing: California ballot measures rarely receive approval from a true majority of the electorate. The available current voter data supports the conclusion that approximately 18% of the state population is the controlling “majority” deciding any given initiative measure, which is an unrepresentative sample of the community that does not reflect the population’s diversity on a variety of factors.[150] For example, one proposition became law with approval from less than 15% of registered voters.[151] We call this the slim majority problem.[152]

This problem has two contributing factors: registration and turnout. A significant proportion of eligible voters (about 25%) is not registered.[153] This is lower than in other states.[154] And some registered voters do not vote; even fewer vote consistently.[155] Calculating turnout based on eligible voters better captures the true gap between potential voters and actual voters. Since 1990, on average just under 40% of eligible voters participated in gubernatorial elections, 33% participated in presidential primaries, 24% participated in statewide primaries, and 31% of eligible voters participated in special elections.[156] Only in general presidential elections do a majority of eligible voters regularly vote.[157] This decline in voter turnout mirrors a decreased participation trend, and California is below the national average.[158]

A slim majority of registered voters regularly participate in California elections, and they are not a representative sample. On average, 50% of registered voters voted between 1990 and 2016.[159] Among eligible voters, turnout during the same period averaged less than 37%. These voters are not representative of California’s electorate: despite California’s demographic diversity, the laws end up reflecting the preferences of the regular voter, who tends to be older, whiter, and more conservative.[160] The participating electorate is the same for initiatives as voters generally: they trend towards the upper end of the income and economic scale regardless of political affiliation.[161]

The slim majority problem applies in nearly all California initiative contests. Only four propositions since 1990 received approval from a registered majority: Proposition 1A in 2004, protecting local government revenue from statewide use; Proposition 59 in 2004, providing the right of public access to government meetings and records; Proposition 35 in 2012, increasing penalties on human traffickers;[162] and Proposition 58 in 2016, restoring bilingual education in California public schools. Each passed with a resounding margin in a presidential election year.[163] No proposition since 1990 earned an eligible majority.[164]

Turnout figures for any given election do not reflect participation levels for ballot propositions. Consistently, segments of the participating electorate abstain from voting on ballot propositions. In each election from 1990 to 2016, an average of 8.1% of participating voters declined to mark a choice on each ballot proposition. Table 9 (average abstention rates) below reflects overall abstention rates in recent elections. Currently, these abstentions do not factor into a proposition’s approval because the California constitution only requires “a majority of votes thereon” for a proposition to become law.[165]

Factoring in these abstentions, even fewer ballot propositions receive approval of a majority of voters in that election. On average, in any given election, nearly a third of ballot propositions fail to win approval of a majority of that election’s voters.[166] In other words, the number of approving votes for the proposition does not exceed 50% of the number of voters participating in that election. This deficit in voter approval occurs consistently across all election types, regardless of the length of the ballot. (See below Table 9 majority approval.)

Because we view the slim majority problem as direct democracy’s chief defect in California, in the next Section we propose a solution.

F.  A Proposed Solution: The Dual Approval Quorum

Is there a workable solution to the slim majority problem? If not, can the system adequately self-maintain without a fix? Solving this problem is important because direct democracy’s legitimacy depends on a minimum level of popular interest (the electorate must opt in and collectively decide), which in turn requires a minimum level of voter participation. Yet the state’s initiative system permits an unrepresentativelysmall electoral majority to approve laws and constitutional amendments. If direct democracy relies on collective consent, something close to a true majority should be required for an initiative to pass. To correct this flaw, we suggest a quorum requirement.

While the legislature and electorate wield equivalent legislative power, their respective quorum requirements are entirely distinct. Legislative and electorate acts, whether statutes or constitutional amendments, are substantively equivalent. But the processes vary substantially: the legislature requires quorum and several stages of deliberation and committee review. The initiative requires none of those; the electorate votes, and that is all.

Quorum provides deliberative bodies the authority to act. If a body functions through collective deciding, a threshold of members must be present to take action.[167] This principle runs throughout California common law,[168] procedural rules,[169] and governing statutes.[170] At all levels of government, deliberative bodies in California face quorum requirements.[171] This is true for the state legislature and for local city councils. While the electorate legislates and functions as a deliberative body, it currently lacks a quorum requirement. This means that unlike the state’s other legislative body, the electorate can pass laws without a threshold of member approval. Adding a quorum requirement will address the representation problems with California’s current direct democracy framework and solve the slim majority problem.

There are two kinds of quorum requirements that could be added to an electoral process: a participation quorum and an approval quorum. A participation quorum requires that a minimum portion of the voting population considers the ballot measure at the polling station. That would mean a measure is not enacted unless a certain percentage of registered voters turns out to vote.[172] But this requirement tends to induce those who oppose the ballot measure to abstain from the vote entirely.[173] Because of that opportunity to game the system, we do not suggest adopting a participation quorum in California.

An approval quorum ensures that a sufficient portion of registered voters—or voters in that election, depending on the framework applied—votes in favor of the ballot measure. This sets a baseline threshold to reflect the popular will. In this system, abstentions count: voter abstention on an individual ballot measure factors into the approval calculation. A quorum requirement may also serve as a safeguard against “false majorities,” a small but intense minority supporting a particular policy goal.[174] While more common abroad, other U.S. states have adopted quorum rules for citizen initiatives. The thresholds vary: measures can only pass when voter turnout reaches 30% in Massachusetts, 35% in Nebraska, and 40% in Mississippi.[175] Oregon has a 50% participation quorum requirement for local-level property tax ballot measures.[176] Wyoming has adopted a “this election” approval quorum, where the measure will only pass when it receives approval from a majority of voters who turned out in that particular election.[177]

Adopting a dual-approval quorum framework would improve California’s direct democracy system by solving the slim majority problem and requiring a true electoral majority to enact initiative measures. The dual approval quorum solution would look like this:

An initiative could amend California constitution Article II, section 10 to change “by a majority of votes thereon” to “by a majority of votes out of all voters in that election.” The same measure could repeal SB 202’s changes to the state’s Elections Code section 9016 and establish a 25% approval quorum requirement for registered voters in all elections. It could also amend Article II, section 10 to add: “No initiative statute or referendum may take effect without approval votes from a minimum of 25% of the registered voter population.”

The measure would include a legislative ratification process for any initiative that passed the first approval threshold but not the second. This would amend Article II, section 10 to add:

Any initiative receiving approval from a majority of voters in that election, but failing to meet the registered voter threshold, is automatically referred to the legislature for consideration and possible ratification. Each house of the Legislature must hold a vote on any such initiative within 90 days of the Secretary of State’s certification of the result of the official canvass of the returns of the election. If the measure receives majority approval from each house, the measure must be presented to the Governor. It will take effect immediately if it is signed by the Governor.

These proposed reforms align with voters’ express desire to enact reforms that would reengage citizens in the initiative process.[178] The first proposal would address two key concerns with the initiative process: inadequate deliberation and lengthy ballots. Currently, when voters choose to abstain from voting on certain ballot measures, either due to a lack of knowledge, opinions on the proposition, or simple voter fatigue, those abstentions do not affect the outcome of the vote. Proponents know this and have no incentive to limit themselves to serious issues that would galvanize the public. They need only convince a determined minority of active voters. But as seen in Table 9, many voters abstain.[179] Voters armed with the knowledge that their abstentions count could then focus their own voter education on the issues that matter to them. This will provide an opportunity for greater deliberation and results that better reflect the electorate’s will.[180]

The 25% approval quorum will address direct democracy’s core legitimacy in a low turnout environment. The threshold is the equivalent of requiring at least half of registered voters to turn out to vote, with at least half of those voters approving the ballot measure. Because only general elections tend to see turnout over 50%, it may seem that the effect of a 25% approval quorum will not differ significantly from the effects of SB 202.[181] Not so—there are flaws in SB 202 that the 25% approval threshold will correct. For example, if a groundswell of voters chose to support a reform in a primary or special election, they should not have to wait another year to pass the reform. Currently, SB 202 would block such a move by limiting propositions to general elections. The 25% approval quorum will both maintain the positive elements of SB 202—preventing proposition gamesmanship in low turnout elections—and restore balance where it is too draconian by reviving the option to propose initiatives in primary and special elections. Most importantly, voters will know that no measure can pass through the ballot box that did not reflect the will of a true majority of registered voters.

The legislative ratification proposal will provide an avenue for voter-approved initiatives to become law even when low turnout bars fulfillment of the 25% quorum. Given the trend of low voter turnout overall, even a measure that earned support from 62% of voters could fail to pass the dual quorum framework if only 40% of voters turned out. Forty percent is the average turnout for recent gubernatorial elections, so this could apply to a significant number of initiatives on the ballot. But rather than permitting a measure to pass without broad voter support, the legislative ratification mechanism would ensure that the legislature considers the proposal before enacting it. And by requiring the legislature to hold a vote, the ratification mechanism ensures that the electorate is not thwarted by legislative inaction on a measure that received majority support. This would recognize voters’ expressed interest while protecting consent of the governed from minority rule.

These reforms will not diminish the initiative power. On the contrary, they will enhance voter legislative power by increasing its perceived and actual legitimacy. Intense minorities gaming the system in low turnout elections threaten that legitimacy; these reforms will prevent an unrepresentative interest group from hijacking the process. Still, we should not overstate the effects. Solving the slim majority problem does not address broader trends in voter disengagement. A quorum requirement will only mitigate the consequences of low turnout.[182] Various reforms have solved some of the legislature’s problems.[183] We see no reason why the state’s other legislators could not also tolerate some improvements.

We recognize that changes to the initiative process are extremely unlikely to pass. And there is a counterargument to this proposal:

In many states, the requirement that a proposed amendment receive a majority of all persons voting in the election, rather than just on the amendment, frustrated constitutional change. This requirement frustrated change because “political experience shows that there is a consistently smaller proportion of the total vote in a general election cast for constitutional proposals than for live candidates for office.”[184]

While we are confident that the initiative can be improved, as discussed above, the status quo still provides net benefits to the people of California. This is partly due to the effective systemic checks on the electorate that we discuss in the next Part.

III.  THE EXISTING CHECKS ON THE ELECTORATE ARE SUFFICIENT

Several serviceable checks on the electorate currently exist. Adequate checks on the electorate are necessary because any branch of government can become a tyrant if it accumulates enough power.[185] Wielding legislative powers, the electorate is no different. Maintaining both a balanced government and an equal society when direct democracy is added to a representative republic requires institutional means for maintaining the relationship between the electorate’s and representatives’ powers. California has two system-maintaining features, which on the whole are adequate to the task of managing direct democracy: the future electorate and judicial review. Those features could be improved if the initiative process itself could accept some changes (like our quorum proposal above).

Because even a meritorious proposal to change the electorate’s direct democracy tools is so unlikely to succeed, we analyze the adequacy of the existing checks on the electorate. There are several checks on the electorate’s legislative power, including some constitutional limitations:

The only express constitutional limitations on the electorate’s exercise of the statewide initiative power are those in sections 8 and 12 of article II. Section 8, subdivision (d) of article II bars initiative measures “embracing more than one subject,” and section 12 of that article bars constitutional amendments and statutes which name[] any individual to hold any office, or name[] any private corporation to perform any function or to have any power or duty . . . .”[186]

The electorate can check itself: a future electorate can always correct or undo the errors of a past electorate. And the judiciary is an effective brake on the excesses of popular sovereignty, as it is with the other state political actors. We conclude that these checks have proven to be adequate, and we expect them to continue to be so absent some changed condition.

Think of the electorate on a continuum: past, present, and future. The past electorate enacted various procedural and substantive provisions when it adopted the state constitution. That past electorate’s acts cannot prevent the present electorate from changing the substance of the constitution; nor can the present electorate stop the future electorate from doing the same.[187] Procedural limits in a constitution are similarly at the present and future electorate’s mercy.[188] Thus, whatever wrong the past and present electorate does, the future electorate can always right. Obviously, the reverse is also true: the good acts of the past and present electorates can also be undone. The point is that the electorate owns its mistakes and has the power to correct them if it wishes. The present electorate legislates knowing that the future electorate is always just around the corner, with complete power to alter the present’s enactments at will.

The judiciary’s ability to check the electorate is based on the power of judicial review. In California, the power to legislate is shared between the legislature and the electorate through the initiative process.[189] “As direct democracy has become an increasingly prevalent force in state policy making, it has shifted power away from elected representatives and toward the ‘parallel legislature’ of governing by initiative.”[190] Because the California constitution divides the state’s legislative power between the electorate and the representatives, and because the electorate acts autonomously in discretionary exercises of its powers, we argue that (for separation-of-powers purposes) the electorate should be considered an independent branch of the state government with legislative power.[191]

Armed with this general power of judicial review over initiative measures and the power to resolve separation-of-powers disputes, California courts have the mandate and ability to police the electorate when necessary. This is just and proper. Judicial review of ballot propositions fosters direct democracy—preserving direct democracy by curbing its abuses and increasing participation incentives through the appearance of legitimacy created by enforcing process fairness.[192] And judicial review is the answer to a common criticism of direct democracy—that the majority of citizens will vote to undermine the rights of the minority.[193] Ordinarily, concerns about overconcentration of power would counsel a more restrained judicial role, but in California the ultimate check on judicial authority lies with the electorate, which has used its power to remove state high court justices.[194]

Next, we review the substantive constitutional issues the initiative potentially can create for the courts to resolve, evaluate the judicial tools appropriate to each problem, and show that judicial review is generally adequate to address them.[195] We first discuss the textual limits on the initiative power (singlesubject, revision–amendment, and separation of powers), and then turn to secondary effects caused by a textually valid initiative on individual rights.

A.  SingleSubject Rule

The single-subject rule provides that an initiative measure embracing more than one subject may not be submitted to the electors or have any effect.”[196] The rule’s main purpose is “to avoid confusion . . . and to prevent the subversion of the electorate’s will.”[197] This provision was added to the California constitution in 1948, in “response to a lengthy, multifaceted initiative provision that recently had been the source of considerable controversy.”[198] The rule “is a constitutional safeguard adopted to protect against multifaceted measures of undue scope” that “serves an important role in preserving the integrity and efficacy of the initiative process.”[199]

Notwithstanding the strict language of the provision, the California Supreme Court has adopted an “accommodating and lenient” legal standard “so as not to unduly restrict . . . the people’s right to package provisions in a single bill or initiative.”[200] The court has explained:

The single-subject provision does not require that each of the provisions of a measure effectively interlock in a functional relationship. It is enough that the various provisions are reasonably related to a common theme or purpose. . . . The governing principle is that an initiative measure does not violate the single-subject requirement if, despite its varied collateral effects, all of its parts are reasonably germane to each other, and to the general purpose or object of the initiative.[201]

The “reasonably germane” standard reflects the California Supreme Court’s “liberal interpretative tradition . . . of sustaining statutes and initiatives which fairly disclose a reasonable and commonsense relationship among their various components in furtherance of a common purpose.”[202] Accordingly, the state high court has

upheld a variety of initiative measures in the face of a single-subject challenge, emphasizing that the initiative process occupies an important and favored status in the California constitutional scheme and that the single-subject requirement should not be interpreted in an unduly narrow or restrictive fashion that would preclude the use of the initiative process to accomplish comprehensive, broad-based reform in a particular area of public concern.[203]              

On the other hand, “[t]he common purpose to which the initiative’s various provisions relate, however, cannot be ‘so broad that a virtually unlimited array of provisions could be considered germane thereto and joined in this proposition, essentially obliterating the constitutional requirement.’”[204]

This leaves California courts with a broadly deferential standardone that rarely requires striking down an initiative measure, to the extent that some question the singlesubject rule’s effectiveness.[205] As one pair of commentators put it, the “single subject rule in California has devolved into a virtual nullity; it is a rule with few, if any, teeth.”[206] So while it is an important structural protection, it rarely provides a sturdy basis for judicial intervention.[207]

The criticism of the single-subject rule as a paper tiger, however, is somewhat overblown. We found 69 cases where the California Supreme Court considered a singlesubject rule challenge (see Appendix Table 3, SingleSubject Rule Cases) including both legislative acts and popular initiatives. Of those 69 cases, the court used the rule to invalidate an act 8 times (11.6%). Of the 69 results, 57 dealt with legislative acts (82.6%); the remaining 12 concerned the initiative (17.4%). In the twelve cases where the California Supreme Court expressly considered a single-subject challenge to an initiative, it relied on the rule to invalidate all or part of an initiative twice (16.7%). The rule applied to invalidate a legislative act 6 times (10.5%). Several factors explain the higher numbers for legislative versus initiative acts. Obviously, the legislature enacts more legislation than the electorate does. The singlesubject rule has applied to initiatives for only seventy of the initiative’s 105 years, while the rule has limited the legislature for all of its 167 years.[208] And there is a variant of the singlesubject rule that applies only to legislative appropriations.[209] Some of the 69 cases concern appropriations; no equivalent rule applies to the initiative. And still the rule applied to a higher percentage of initiative than legislative acts.

We recognize that the single-subject rule does not often apply. Still, the threat of a pre- or post-election single-subject challenge is an active deterrent to proponents who may otherwise push the envelope. As a practical matter, an initiative measure that has the financial and political backing to make it to the ballot is unlikely to run afoul of the single-subject rule. Well-heeled proponents are generally unwilling to risk placing an initiative on the ballot that could be vulnerable to a constitutional challenge. Proposed initiative measures are commonly prepared with the assistance of attorneys (if not drafted by them outright), and then vetted through a public review process where proponents have the opportunity to amend the proposed initiative.[210] Only then is the final proposed initiative submitted to the Attorney General to prepare the circulating title and summary.[211] This process provides proponents time to identify and address potential defects in the form of the proposed initiative measure long before it reaches the voters. That explains the singlesubject rule’s infrequent application better than the rule’s claimed weakness.

B.  Revision and Amendment

The principal limitation on the initiative is the constitutional constraint against using the initiative power to enact sweeping or fundamental changes to the state’s governmental framework through constitutional revisions. Specifically, the initiative power can be used to amend, but not revise, the California constitution.[212] An amendment is any law that effects a more modest addition or change to the state’s constitution. Revisions are laws that “fundamental[ly] change . . . the basic governmental plan or framework” set forth in the state constit ution.[213] This distinction means that far-reaching changes in the state constitution can only be accomplished through a deliberative process with the state’s legislature and electorate acting together.

Although “amendment” and “revision” are not defined in the state constitution, the text makes clear that distinct procedures apply to each act. As the California Supreme Court has put it, the concept of a revision as a higher-level exercise of constitutional power “is based on the principle that ‘comprehensive changes’ to the Constitution require more formality, discussion and deliberation than is available through the initiative process.”[214] The California Supreme Court has developed the following standard to distinguish between them:

A “revision” denotes a change that is qualitatively or quantitatively extensive, affecting the “underlying principles upon which [the Constitution] rests” or the “substantial entirety of the instrument.” By contrast, an “amendment” denotes a change that is qualitatively and quantitatively limited, making a modification “within the lines of the original instrument as will effect an improvement, or better carry out the purpose for which it was framed.”[215]

The state constitution imposes a much higher procedural barrier to enacting revisions than it does for amendments. Specifically, voters can propose and adopt constitutional amendments directly through the initiative process, while revisions may only be accomplished by the state legislature and electorate acting together.[216] As discussed above, the legislature can propose specific revisions directly for ratification by popular vote, or propose a convention to revise the constitution.[217] Prohibiting direct adoption of revisions therefore provides a critical structural safeguard against electoral overreach: it ensures that broad changes to the state constitution can only be made when the legislature and the electorate act in concert. Yet the bar is not so high that it prohibits effectively using the revision power: the legislature and electorate have together revised the state constitution 21 times (see Table 6).

While the revision–amendment distinction provides a critical structural check on the electorate’s ability to change the state constitution, when called upon to enforce this constitutional limitation, the California Supreme Court has produced mixed and arguably inconsistent results.[218] As the authors have explained:

In Strauss v. Horton, for example, the California Supreme Court held that abolishing the state right of marriage by initiative constitutional amendment was not a qualitative revision of the state constitution—reasoning that the measure did not have a substantial or, indeed, even a minimal effect on the governmental plan or framework of California. In Raven v. Deukmejian, on the other hand, the court found a qualitative violation where an initiative constitutional amendment abolished state substantive rights for criminal defendants because it altered the authority of state courts to independently interpret criminal law. Divergent results like those in Strauss and Raven invite charges of hypocrisy. Worse, comparing the results in Legislature v. Eu (upholding legislative term limits and a forty percent reduction of the legislature’s budget) with Raven (rejecting an initiative that only affected judicial discretion) invites the conclusion that the courts will protect their interests but not those of other state government branches.[219]

Strauss, in particular, highlights another critical shortcoming of the revisionamendment test. Because its primary focus is preserving the structure of California’s government, it is ill-suited to resolving disputes over initiative measures that do not significantly change to the state’s “governmental plan or framework”—even where an initiative takes aim at fundamental constitutional rights.[220]

In the following Sections we discuss doctrinal solutions to these two shortcomings.

C.  Separation of Powers

While the revisionamendment distinction provides a critical structural check on the electorate’s ability to change the state constitution, it provides an incomplete solution when courts confront an initiative that does not amount to a revision, but nevertheless infringes on the core powers of the state government’s branches.[221] These critical disputes have arisen on multiple occasions in the past and will surely arise again.[222] We have argued that this doctrine can be improved by the judiciary treating the electorate in this scenario as a co-equal branch of state government and relying on existing separation-of-powers principles to police inter-branch disputes.[223]

Applying the separation of powers doctrine to the electorate when it acts in its legislative capacity addresses the largest gap in the revisionamendment analysis. California’s separation of powers doctrine “recognizes that the three branches of government are interdependent, and it permits actions of one branch that may ‘significantly affect those of another branch.’”[224] “[A]lthough the state constitution ostensibly requires a system of three largely separate powers, the state separation of powers doctrine does not create an absolute or rigid division of functions; instead, the California view assumes that there will be some mutual oversight and influence between the branches.”[225]

Policing separation-of-powers disputes is the judiciary’s province. Courts “have not hesitated to strike down provisions of law that either accrete to a single Branch powers more appropriately diffused among separate Branches or that undermine the authority and independence of one or another coordinate Branch.”[226] While a branch “may not use its powers to ‘defeat or materially impair’ the exercise of its fellow branches’ constitutional functions, nor ‘intrude upon a core zone’ of another branch’s authority,”[227] the doctrine does not “prohibit one branch from taking action properly within its sphere that has the incidental effect of duplicating a function or procedure delegated to another branch.”[228]

Vesting shared legislative power in the state electorate, as California’s constitution does, changes the tripartite power dynamic typical of modern republican government. Article III, section 3 of the state constitution provides that “[t]he powers of state government are legislative, executive, and judicial. Persons charged with the exercise of one power may not exercise either of the others except as permitted by this Constitution.” The “primary purpose of the separation-of-powers doctrine is to prevent the combination in the hands of a single person or group of the basic or fundamental powers of government.”[229] As we have explained, the direct democracy provisions in the California constitution require including the electorate among the “persons charged with the exercise” of the state’s legislative power, which means the existing separation of powers analysis must adapt to include the electorate.[230] California’s direct democracy tools reduce the executive and legislative powers relative to the electorate, and increase the governor’s power relative to the legislature.[231] This increased diffusion of power ultimately benefits individual liberty.[232]

But that additional dispersion of power requires its own separation of powers analysis. The legislature is the creative element of government.[233] Like the legislature, with which it shares the state’s legislative power, the electorate can create separation of powers problems.[234] Judicial review is adequate to manage that problem, especially since the California Supreme Court has made it clear that the core powers analysis applies to the electorate.[235] Armed with judicial review and the revisionamendment rule (particularly with this modification), the courts are well-versed in handling separation-of-powers disputes involving the electorate.

D.  Individual Rights

What happens when the electorate passes an initiative that potentially infringes on individual rights secured by the state or federal constitution? One of the fundamental purposes of a constitution is to provide protection for individual rights.[236] Rights in a constitution are countermajoritarian.[237] Direct democracy potentially has a significant effect on individual rights, and it presents a risk for minority groups.[238] This is because the countermajoritarian individual rights necessarily conflict with the majoritarian power of the initiative: any temporary majority can effect a permanent change to individual rights that disadvantages the minority. Similarly, the principle of equal protection requires protecting minority rights against the majority,[239] while the initiative tends to preserve majority preferences.[240] And because the state’s median voter controls the final outcome of any initiative, any constitutional change will necessarily have a majoritarian bias.[241] This characteristic of the initiative favors stability over expansion of individual rights, causing a slower rate of adopting constitutional rights for minority groups.[242]

The federal constitution was designed as a representative republic, on the principle that the checks and balances inherent in the government’s design would prevent tyranny by any of the federal government’s branches, and the lack of direct democracy would prevent tyranny by the people.[243] But Congress and the President have overcome those restrictions.[244] Even the judiciary, the least dangerous branch, has been guilty of such sins.[245] State legislatures have been no less despotic at times.[246] Similarly, electoral majorities have both the ability and tendency to use the initiative process to deprive unpopular minorities of rights or to prevent such groups from gaining rights.[247] This has occurred many times in California history.[248] The takeaway here is that the electorate is no different from any other branch of government regarding the risk of tyrannical behavior.

California’s experience with same-sex marriage illustrates this point. The state constitution provides for the equal protection of individual rights.[249] In 2008, the California Supreme Court held that limiting the definition of “marriage” to opposite-sex couples violated the constitutional guarantee of equal protection.[250] But the voters then passed an initiative constitutional amendment restricting the right of marriage to only opposite-sex couples.[251] This was a difficult issue for the courts to resolve. The California high court decided that equal protection did not apply; the U.S. Supreme Court held that it did.[252] This problem is not specific to the debate over same-sex marriage, and we use that issue here only as an example of the risk the initiative can present to individual rights.

The same-sex marriage issue illustrates a significant structural limitation of the initiative. Although there are procedural hurdles to passing an initiative measure, there are few constraints on the subject matter that can be placed on the ballot. Say, for example, a group proposed an initiative measure stating that only women could vote and revoked male suffrage. Even though such a measure would be patently unconstitutional, there are no direct constitutional constraints to prevent voters from considering and approving the initiative: the Attorney General has a constitutional duty to prepare a circulating title and summary for the measure, and the proponents are then free to gather signatures to qualify it for the ballot and then campaign for its passage.[253]

In such a case, judicial intervention is the only means to prevent an unconstitutional initiative measure from reaching the ballot. As a general matter, “it is usually more appropriate to review constitutional and other challenges to ballot propositions or initiative measures after an election rather than to disrupt the electoral process by preventing the exercise of the people’s franchise, in the absence of some clear showing of invalidity.”[254] But the California Supreme Court has recognized that “the principles of popular sovereignty which led to the establishment of the initiative and referendum in California . . . do not disclose any value in putting before the people a measure which they have no power to enact.”[255] Accordingly, pre-election review of a proposed initiative is appropriate to challenge “the power of the electorate to adopt the proposal in the first instance.”[256] This can be accomplished in two primary ways. The Attorney General can seek judicial relief from its duty to prepare a circulating title and summary,[257] or citizens can bring a petition for writ of mandate to prevent the Secretary of State from acting on a proposed initiative measure.[258] In either event, judicial intervention is available to prevent a patently unconstitutional measure from reaching the ballot.[259]

Two recent examples show how this process works in practice. In 2015, a proponent submitted a proposed initiative titled the “Sodomite Suppression Act,” which sought to amend California’s criminal code to penalize what the proponent described as “sodomy” or “buggery” by requiring “that any person who willingly touches another person of the same gender for purposes of sexual gratification be put to death,” and by barring from public employment any person “who is a sodomite or who espouses sodomistic propaganda or who belongs to any group that does.”[260] The Attorney General filed a complaint for declaratory relief from its duty to prepare a circulating title and summary of the initiative on that grounds that the proposed measure was “patently unconstitutional on its face,” and that “[r]equiring the Attorney General to prepare a circulating title and summary would be inappropriate, waste public resources, generate unnecessary divisions among the public, and mislead the electorate.”[261] The proponent did not respond to the complaint, and the trial court entered a default judgment in the Attorney General’s favor, relieving it of “any obligation to prepare a title and summary of the Act.”[262] And in Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla,[263] the California Supreme Court directed the Secretary of State to refrain from placing on the ballot a proposed initiative measure to split California into three states, holding that such relief was warranted because “significant questions have been raised regarding the proposition’s validity, and because . . . the potential harm in permitting the measure to remain on the ballot outweighs the potential harm in delaying the proposition to a future election.”[264]

Accordingly, judicial review is an essential tool to police the initiative power and to ensure that it is not used to violate fundamental individual rights secured by the California and U.S. constitutions. The judiciary is adequately equipped in this area because the courts have a well-developed role and clear guidelines for policing initiative excesses to ensure the electorate remains within the lines drawn by the state and federal constitutions. In combination, these process and substantive limits on the electorate’s legislative power have on the whole proved to be capable at keeping the electorate in its lane. Given that, and the results of our data analysis, other than an incremental improvement (like our quorum idea) we see no need for major structural reforms to the initiative.

CONCLUSION

Direct democracy in California government is a net social good.[265] Rather than weakening the democratic process by removing decisions from elected representatives (thereby reducing their authority, removing incentives to act, and degrading the legitimacy of their acts), direct democracy can strengthen the democratic process by checking the legislature and contributing to legislative results that more closely conform to community views. Combining direct democracy and representative republicanism moots the debate over which system better produces optimal results. California’s experience belies the conventional wisdom: the legislature, not the electorate, is the primary constitutional change actor; the electorate is reliably reticent to pass initiatives; and the initiative is not to blame for the length and mutability of California’s constitution. Consequently, it is difficult to argue that the state is the fifth largest economy in the world despite the initiative.[266]

Direct democracy remains a popular institution in California, albeit one colored by the pervasive voter frustration with state government as a whole.[267] A significant majority of the electorate believes voters should have a direct say in making law and public policy through the initiative process, while a similarly large majority believes that the initiative process needs reformwith some of the most favored changes potentially making the initiative a more powerful political force.[268] Accordingly, despite its defects, the electorate is highly unlikely to approve any limits on its powers, and direct democracy will remain a powerful state governmental institution.[269] All things considered, that’s not so bad.

 

APPENDIX

SECRETARY OF STATE DATA SUMMARY

Between 1912 and 2016:

  • 89 referenda were titled and summarized for circulation.
  • 39 referenda (43.82%) failed to qualify for the ballot, and 50 referenda (56.18%) qualified for the ballot.
  • Of the 50 which qualified and have been voted on, 21 referenda (42%) were approved by the voters.*
  • 29 referenda (58%) were rejected by the voters.*

* Once a referendum is on the ballot, the law is repealed only if voters cast more NO votes than YES votes on the referendum in question. Accordingly, research regarding how many referendum campaigns are successful in repealing a law, should consider a referendum that was “rejected” by the voters (which thereby strikes down an existing law) as agreement by the majority of voters that the law should be repealed. Therefore, as of the end of 2016, 58% of the referenda that qualified for the ballot were successful in repealing a law.

 

 


[*] *. Lecturer in Residence and Executive Director of the California Constitution Center at the University of California, Berkeley School of Law; B.A. (1991), J.D. (1995), LL.M. (2007), and J.S.D. (2011), University of California, Berkeley.

[†] †. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., University of California, Berkeley; J.D., University of Notre Dame Law School. Mr. Duvernay is an attorney in private practice.

[‡] ‡. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., University of California, Santa Cruz; J.D., University of California, Davis. Mr. Gevercer is an attorney in private practice.

[*] **. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., Tufts University; M.A., New York University; J.D., University of California, Berkeley. Ms. Fenzel is an attorney in private practice.

[*]  The views expressed herein are solely those of the authors. The authors presented an early draft of this Article at the Korea Legislation Research Institute conference on February 2, 2018 in Seoul, South Korea, as a primer on California constitutional law and the state’s experience with direct democracy. Portions of this Article draw from the authors’ previous work on these subjects, including: David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, California Constitutional Law: The Guarantee Clause and California’s Republican Form of Government, 62 UCLA L. Rev. Disc. 104 (2014); David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay & Brandon V. Stracener, California Constitutional Law: Popular Sovereignty, 68 Hastings L.J. 731 (2017); David A. Carrillo & Danny Y. Chou, California Constitutional Law: Separation of Powers, 45 U.S.F. L. Rev. 655 (2011); and David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, The California Judiciary, 7 Cal. J. Pol. & Pol’y, no. 4, 2015, at 1. Thanks are due to our research assistants, the brothers Belcher, for their dedicated assistance on this project.

 [1]. It takes little work to find scholarly and popular press criticism of California’s direct democracy tools. See generally, e.g., Arne R. Leonard, In Search of the Deliberative Initiative: A Proposal for a New Method of Constitutional Change, 69 Temp. L. Rev. 1203 (1996); Note, California’s Constitutional Amendomania, 1 Stan. L. Rev. 279 (1949); Harry N. Scheiber, Foreword: The Direct Ballot and State Constitutionalism, 28 Rutgers L.J. 787 (1997); Rachel A. Van Cleave, A Constitution In Conflict: The Doctrine of Independent State Grounds and the Voter Initiative in California, 21 Hastings Const. L.Q. 95 (1993); Direct Democracy: Origin of the Species, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04/20/origin-of-the-species; Power from the People, Economist (July 6, 2013), https://www.economist.com/united-states/2013/07/06/power-from-the-people (“Direct democracy is often blamed for making California ungovernable.”); Proposition 13: War By Initiative, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04
/20/war-by-initiative; California’s Legislature: The Withering Branch, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04/20/the-withering-branch. We note that the criticism is not universal and that California’s direct democracy has other defenders. See, e.g., Zev Yaroslavsky, Can Californians Handle Direct Democracy?, L.A. Times (Nov. 6, 2016), http://www.latimes.com
/opinion/op-ed/la-oe-yaroslavsky-ballot-initiative-20161106-story.html.

 [2]. Eastlake v. Forest City Enters., Inc., 426 U.S. 668, 672–73 (1976) (citing The Federalist, No. 39 (James Madison)) (noting that the power to govern comes entirely from the people, who can delegate powers to their representatives and reserve powers to themselves); Brosnahan v. Brown, 651 P.2d 274, 277 (Cal. 1982); C&C Construction, Inc. v. Sacramento Mun. Util. Dist., 18 Cal. Rptr. 3d 715, 727 (Ct. App. 2004) (“In California, the people are sovereign, whose power may be exercised by initiative.”). For the distinction in California law between the people and the electorate, see People v. Lynch, 51 Cal. 15, 27–28 (1875):

But the “sovereignty of the people” is more than a meaningless phrase. The people of California created the State government, and it was for this people to place (in the State Constitution) as many checks upon, and conditions and limitations of the general grant of legislative, executive or judicial power as they deemed proper or expedient. The people of the State alone possess and can exercise supreme and absolute authority; the Legislature, and the other departments of government, are but the depositaries of delegated powers more or less limited—according to the terms of the Constitution.

Id. (internal citations and quotations omitted); see also Karl Manheim & Edward P. Howard, A Structural Theory of the Initiative Power in California, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 1165, 1191–92 (1998) (“California’s constitution thus gives a name to the power of self-governance. The ability of individuals to ‘create’ and regulate government institutions is dubbed the ‘political power.’ This is the organic power of a sovereign polity. It has been invoked twice in California, in the 1849 and 1879 conventions.”); Herman Belz, Popular Sovereignty, the Right of Revolution, and California Statehood, 6 Nexus 3, 11 (2001) (noting that popular sovereignty is the right of self-government inherent in any community, the right of internal legislation in a community).

 [3]. Other than the United States, only Switzerland makes substantial use of direct democracy. Ronald Steiner, Understanding the Prop 8 Litigation: The Scope of Direct Democracy and Role of Judicial Scrutiny, 14 Nexus 81, 83 (2009). But see Dennis C. Mueller, Constitutional Democracy 100, n.5 (1996) (noting that modern Japan, Poland, Iceland, Turkey, the former West Germany, England, and Wales have used popular assemblies on a small scale). In the United States, it is primarily an artifact of Progressive politics in the central and western states. Robert F. Williams, State Constitutional Law Processes, 24 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 169, 205 (1983); Steiner, supra, at 84.

 [4]. For an excellent contemporary overview of state constitutional change mechanisms, see John Dinan, State Constitutional Politics: Governing by Amendment in the American States 11–23 (2018). Note that there is some variation in the various tabulations of how many states have which initiative procedures (for example, in the authorities cited infra note 5), and for consistency, we employ John Dinan’s numbers because they are the most recent.

 [5]. Mark Baldassare & Cheryl Katz, The Coming Age of Direct Democracy 9–11 (2008) (noting the most recent state to adopt the initiative was Mississippi in 1992); Shaun Bowler & Amihai Glazer, Direct Democracy’s Impact on American Political Institutions 2, 35 (Palgrave Macmillan eds., 2008); Bruce E. Cain & Roger G. Noll, Constitutional Reform in California 265 (1995); Thomas E. Cronin, Direct Democracy: The Politics of Initiative, Referendum, and Recall 47, 51, tbl. 3.1 (1999); Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17; Lawrence LeDuc, The Politics of Direct Democracy 137 (2003) (thirty-one states have some kind of referendum process, twenty-four have the initiative specifically); Tracy M. Gordon, Pub. Policy Inst. of Cal., The Local Initiative in California 3 (2004); see also Initiative and Referendum Institute, Univ. S. Cal., http://www.iandrinstitute.org/states.cfm (last visited Apr. 9, 2019).

 [6]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 1.

 [7]. See Gordon S. Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 1776–1787, at 18–19 (1998).

 [8]. Id. at 19.

 [9]. Jonathan Zasloff, Taking Politics Seriously: A Theory of California’s Separation of Powers, 51 UCLA L. Rev. 1079, 1122–23 (2004).

 [10]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 56, 83, 85.

 [11]. Wood, supra note 7, at 363–72.

 [12]. See Leroy A. Wright, Reasons Why Senate Constitutional Amendment No. 22 Should Not Be Adopted, in Proposed Amendments to the Constitution of the State of California, with Legislative Reasons for and Against the Adoption Thereof 8, 8 (1911) (“[The initiative’s] tendency is to change the republican form of our government and head it towards democracy, and history teaches that democracies have universally ended in turbulence and disaster.”).

 [13]. David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay & Brandon V. Stracener, California Constitutional Law: Popular Sovereignty, 68 Hastings L.J. 731, 747–51 (2017).

 [14]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 21.

 [15]. Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 751–62.

 [16]. Wood, supra note 7, at 20.

 [17]. Id.; Perry v. Brown, 265 P.3d 1002, 1027 (Cal. 2011) (noting the electorate’s “authority to propose and adopt state constitutional amendments or statutes embodied in the initiative provisions of the California Constitution is essentially a legislative authority”); Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 747–50; see also Adrian Vermeule, Mechanisms of Democracy 67 (2007) (arguing that self-interested enactments by a popular majority, even if temporary, “systemically tend to enjoy a protection against subsequent appeal that impartial ones do not possess” because such enactments will have a “core group of intensely interested defenders around to defend them from repeal” that impartial enactments lack).

 [18]. See, e.g., John M. Allswang, The Initiative and Referendum in California, 1898–1998, at 3–4 (2000) (“[California] has used these mechanisms almost constantly and with accelerating frequency throughout the twentieth century—more so than any other state.”).

 [19]. Consider, for example, Proposition 140 (Cal. 1990) (imposing term limits and solving the problem of effectively lifetime legislative seats); Proposition 11 (Cal. 2008) and Proposition 20 (Cal. 2010) (creating the California Citizens Redistricting Commission and solving the problem of the legislature being unable to agree on redistricting); and Proposition 25 (Cal. 2010) (solving the problem of the perennially late state budget by removing the two-thirds vote requirement for a revenue-neutral budget and docking legislator pay after the budget deadline).

 [20]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 60.

 [21]. The Federalist No. 10, at 74–79 (James Madison); Gordon, supra note 5, at 7.

 [22]. In fact, a popular vote was disfavored at the time of the nation’s founding. The U.S. Constitution was ratified by the states, not by plebiscite, and only a few early state constitutions were popularly approved. Charles A. Beard & Birl E. Shultz, Documents on the State-Wide Initiative, Referendum and Recall 15, 28–29 (1912).

 [23]. Gordon, supra note 5, at 7. But see Akhil Reed Amar, The Consent of the Governed: Constitutional Amendment Outside Article V, 94 Colum. L. Rev. 457 (1994) (arguing for an unenumerated right of a majority of voters to amend the federal constitution); Akhil Reed Amar, Philadelphia Revisited: Amending the Constitution Outside Article V, 55 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1043 (1988) (arguing for the unenumerated rights of voters to amend the Constitution).

 [24]. John Ross Browne, Report of the Debates of the Convention of California, on the Formation of the State Constitution, in September and October, 1849, at 34 (statement by Mr. Norton).

 [25]. Cal. Const. art II, § 1. Compare this with the Swiss concept of popular sovereignty, where the people are the supreme authority. Swiss cantons began experimenting with direct democracy in the 1830s, and the Swiss constitution has contained the initiative power since 1848. Gordon, supra note 5, at 7, n.1. Under the Swiss constitution, the Swiss people are sovereign and ultimately the supreme political authority; the concept includes all Swiss adults who are eligible to vote—approximately 4.8 million citizens, or 60% of the population. Bundesverfassung [BV] [Constitution] Apr. 18, 1999, tit. 5, ch. 2, art. 148 (Switz.), translated at https://www.admin.ch/opc/en/classified-compilation/19995395
/index.html.

 [26]. Joseph R. Grodin et al., The California State Constitution 28–29 (Oxford Univ. Press, 2d ed., 2016); Beard & Shultz, supra note 22; Stephen H. Sutro, Interpretation of Initiatives by Reference to Similar Statutes: Canons of Construction Do Not Adequately Measure Voter Intent, 34 Santa Clara L. Rev. 945, 948 (1994).

The initiative process has been characterized as a “legislative battering ram”—a tool for the populace to enact legislation ignored by elected representatives. Lobbyist control of Sacramento at the turn of the century prompted California professionals and small businessmen to push the initiative process as a means to give power back to the people. Accordingly, the initiative process was designed to allow grassroots access to law-making. Structurally, the process is relatively unchanged from its original form of 1911.

Sutro, supra, at 948.

 [27]. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22 passim; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 6.

 [28]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 7; Grodin et al., supra note 26, at 29; Gordon, supra note 5, at 8; Williams, supra note 3, at 205.

 [29]. As the California Supreme Court explained

[i]n California, a principal target of the [progressive] movement’s ire was the Southern Pacific Railroad, which the movement’s supporters believed not only controlled local public officials and state legislators but also had inordinate influence on the state’s judges, who—in the view of the progressive movement—at times improperly had interpreted the law in a manner unduly favorable to the railroad’s interest.

Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 84 (Cal. 2009); see also Cronin, supra note 5, at 56–57 (noting that the direct democracy reforms were not the “‘panacea for all our ills,’ said California governor Hiram Johnson, ‘yet they do give the electorate the power of action when desired, and they do place in the hands of the people the means by which they may protect themselves’”); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 9; Gordon, supra note 5, at 1. Senate Constitutional Amendment 22 was proposed by the legislature under the procedure provided by Article 18 section 1, which does not distinguish between the procedure for the legislature to propose amendments or revisions. The version of Article 18 section 1 from the 1879 constitution, in effect in 1911, provided:

Any amendment or amendments to this Constitution may be proposed in the Senate or Assembly, and if two-thirds of all the members elected to each of the two Houses shall vote in favor thereof, such proposed amendment or amendments shall be entered in their Journals, with the yeas and nays taken thereon; and it shall be the duty of the Legislature to submit such proposed amendment or amendments to the people in such manner, and at such time, and after such publication as may be deemed expedient. Should more amendments than one be submitted at the same election they shall be so prepared and distinguished, by numbers or otherwise, that each can be voted on separately. If the people shall approve and ratify such amendment or amendments, or any of them, by a majority of the qualified electors voting thereon, such amendment or amendments shall become a part of this Constitution.

See also Robert Desty, The Constitution of the State of California 362 (Sumner Whitney & Co., 1879).

 [30]. Governor Johnson put it this way:

How best can we arm the people to protect themselves hereafter? If we can give to the people the means by which they may accomplish such other reforms as they desire, the means as well by which they may prevent the misuse of the power temporarily centralized in the Legislature . . . then all that lies in our power will have been done in the direction of safeguarding the
future. . . . And while I do not by any means believe the initiative, the referendum, and the recall are the panacea for all our political ills, yet they do give to the electorate the power of action when desired, and they do place in the hands of the people the means by which they may protect themselves. . . . The opponents of direct legislation and the recall, however they may phrase their opposition, in reality believe the people can not be trusted. On the other hand, those of us who espouse these measures do so because of our deep-rooted belief in popular government, and not only in the right of the people to govern, but in their ability to govern.

Inaugural Address of Governor Hiram Johnson (Jan. 3, 1911), in Franklin Hichborn, Story of the Session of the California Legislature of 1911, at iv–v (James H. Barry Co., 1911).

 [31]. Cal. Const. art. XVIII, § 1 (1879).

Any amendment or amendments to this Constitution may be proposed in the Senate or Assembly, and if two-thirds of all the members elected to each of the two Houses shall vote in favor thereof . . . it shall be the duty of the Legislature to submit such proposed amendment or amendments to the people. . . . If the people shall approve and ratify such amendment or amendments . . . by a majority of the qualified electors voting thereon, such amendment or amendments shall become a part of this Constitution.

 [32]. Initiative and Referendum. California Proposition 7 (1911), U. Cal. Hastings C.L., https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/7 (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (Senate Constitutional Amendment 22); Recall by the Electors of Public Officials, Proposition 8 (1911), U. Cal. Hastings C.L., https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/8 (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (Senate Constitutional Amendment 23).

 [33]. The direct democracy provisions were approved as Proposition 7 (initiative and referendum) and Proposition 8 (recall). There is an argument that adding the direct democracy improperly revised the state constitution in 1911, see Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1230–31, 1235 (concluding “[s]o what! Given the ethereal ill-understood nature of how popular sovereigns gain widespread legitimacy, is not the foregoing analysis mere formalism?”). We agree. To the extent it was a revision, that process requires a legislative proposal and popular vote, which is what happened. After more than a century of judicial and political acceptance, this is at most an interesting academic argument.

 [34]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 13; Gordon, supra note 5, at 23; see also, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 1. Regardless of which state is number one, at least one commentator argues that California has set the standard for direct democracy. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 149.

 [35]. Statewide Initiatives Since 1904–2000, Initiative & Referendum Inst., Univ. S. Cal., http://www.iandrinstitute.org/docs/Statewide-Initiatives-1904-2000.pdf (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (individually describing and tabulating every initiative measure on each state’s ballot by year in the given period). The California Secretary of State calculates a different number of ballot-qualified initiatives for this period (1904–2000): 286. California would rank second with either figure. History of California Initiatives 1912–2017, Cal. Sec’y State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/resources-and-historical-information/history-california-initiatives (last visited Apr. 9, 2019)

 [36]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17.

 [37]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 13 (recall), Cal. Const. art. II, § 9(a) (referendum), Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(a) (initiative).

 [38]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 13; accord Gordon, supra note 5, at 1. The electorate attempted to recall sitting governors thirty-two times between 1911 and 2003, but the recall of Governor Gray Davis was the first successful attempt in the state, and only the second time that the governor of any state had ever been recalled (the first was North Dakota Governor Lynn Frazier in 1921). Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 11.

 [39]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 1.

 [40]. Ann Bowman & Richard C. Kearney, State and Local Government 98 (Wadsworth Publishing, 10th ed. 2016). The election in 1986 when three California Supreme Court justices (including the Chief Justice) were removed from the bench is sometimes mentioned in this context. This is incorrect; those justices were voted out in a regular retention election, rather than through a recall. Recalls of judges are exceedingly rare, in California and in general. See Cal. Constitution Ctr., What Does California’s Experience with Recall of Judges Teach Us?, SCOCABlog (Nov. 10, 2016), http://scocablog.com/what-does-californias-experience-with-recall-of-judges-teach-us.

 [41]. See Direct Democracy Database, Int’l Inst. Democracy & Electoral Assistance, https://www.idea.int/data-tools/data/direct-democracy (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (defining in its glossary a referendum as “[a] direct democracy procedure consisting of a vote of the electorate on an issue of public policy such as a constitutional amendment or a draft law. Also known as popular consultation or a plebiscite”).

 [42]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 9(a); Gordon, supra note 5, at 1; Mueller, supra note 3, at 177–78.

 [43]. See, e.g., California Ballot Measures, Berkeley L. Libr., https://www.law.berkeley.edu
/library/dynamic/guide.php?id=29 (last updated Sept. 18, 2012) (“Despite a recent uptick in use of this device (9 referenda filed in 2011 alone, compared to less than 15 per decade since inception, and only 1 or 2 per decade in the 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 90s), the history of referenda in California can still be summarized in less than five pages.” (emphasis removed)).

 [44]. Summary of Data, Cal. Sec’y of State, https://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/ballot-measures/pdf/referenda-data.pdf (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (providing the California Secretary of State’s summary of California referendum results). As the Secretary of State’s summary notes, a law is repealed by referendum

only if voters cast more NO votes than YES votes on the referendum in question. Accordingly, research regarding how many referendum campaigns are successful in repealing a law, should consider a referendum that was “rejected” by the voters (which thereby strikes down an existing law) as agreement by the majority of voters that the law should be repealed. Therefore, as of the end of 2016, 58% of the referenda that qualified for the ballot were successful in repealing a law.

Id.

 [45]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(a); Gordon, supra note 5, at 1; Mueller, supra note 3, at 178. California had both a direct citizens’ initiative and an indirect legislative initiative until 1966, when the electorate abolished the indirect process, in part due to its lengthy pre-election circulation period. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 10. In 1965, the Constitution Revision Commission recommended that the indirect initiative process be eliminated due to disuse. Cal. Sec’y of State, A History of California Initiatives 9 (2002).

 [46]. City of Malibu v. Cal. Coastal Comm’n, 18 Cal. Rptr. 3d 40, 48 (Ct. App. 2004) (“Good governance cannot permit local voters to override a state decision with a local referendum. . . . [W]hether legislative or administrative . . . to permit local voters to overturn state enactments would upend our governmental structure and invite chaos.”); see also Jahr v. Casebeer, 83 Cal. Rptr. 2d 172, 176–77 (Ct. App. 1999) (discussing state preemption and limits on local referenda). The voters in cities and counties have local initiative and referendum powers. Cal. Const. art. II, §11. It is generally co-extensive with the legislative power of the local governing body. DeVita v. County of Napa, 889 P.2d 1019, 1026 (Cal. 1995); Simpson v. Hite, 222 P.2d 225, 228 (Cal. 1950). It may even be broader than the statewide initiative power. Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 561 (Cal. 1995).

 [47]. The California constitution grants amendment power only to the electorate. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8; art. XVIII, §§ 3, 4; Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 79–80 (Cal. 2009) (noting that a proposed amendment or a proposed revision of the Constitution must be submitted to the voters, and becomes effective if approved by a majority of votes cast thereon at the election); Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 561 n.3 (Cal. 1995). The initiative is not a right granted to the electorate, it is a power reserved by them. Associated Home Builders of the Greater Eastbay, Inc. v. City of Livermore, 557 P.2d 473, 477 (Cal. 1976).

 [48]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 279 (explaining the distinctions between the people’s political power and the electorate’s initiative power); see also Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 743–47; Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1194–96.

 [49]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(c) (“The Legislature may amend or repeal an initiative statute by another statute that becomes effective only when approved by the electors unless the initiative statute permits amendment or repeal without the electors’ approval.”); see also Sutro, supra note 26, at 949. The Governor’s veto power applies only to bills passed by the Legislature. Cal. Const. art. IV, § 10(a).

 [50]. See infra Table 6 (all amendments by type).

 [51]. The California legislature’s ability to propose constitutional amendments remained unchanged after the 1911 amendments that introduced the electorate’s ability to do the same by itself. So going forward from 1911, we distinguish between legislative constitutional amendments (those placed on the ballot by the legislature) and initiative constitutional amendments (those placed on the ballot by the electorate).

 [52]. Consistent with the constitutional and doctrinal distinction between amendments and revisions, we count them separately.

 [53]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 3.

 [54]. Sherry Bebitch Jeffe, A History Lesson on Part-Time Lawmaking, L.A. Times (Aug. 8, 2004), http://articles.latimes.com/2004/aug/08/opinion/op-jeffe8.

 [55]. See infra Table 6 (all amendments by type). For other estimates, see, for example, Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 29 (120 initiatives approved from 1914–2012); California Research In-Depth: Constitution, Georgetown L. Libr., http://guides.ll.georgetown.edu/california-in-depth/constitution (last updated Dec. 10, 2018) (“California’s current constitution was ratified on May 7, 1879 and has been amended over 480 times.”).

 [56]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 25–26 tbl.1.3 (showing that Alabama has 926 amendments, nearly double California’s); see also Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 172; Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 265.

 [57]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 265. But see Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 10 (“Most states are in the range of 5 to 8 percent of voters participating in the last gubernatorial election.”).

 [58]. See, e.g., Lessons from California: The Perils of Extreme Democracy, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/leaders/2011/04/20/the-perils-of-extreme-democracy.

 [59]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 267.

 [60]. See infra Table 6.

 [61]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 11. For example, every state constitution permits its legislature to generate amendments. Id. at 11, 13.

 [62]. Id. at 23. California’s amendment rate ranks fourth among the states, after Alabama, Louisiana, and South Carolina. Id. at 25–26 tbl.1.3.

 [63]. Using John Dinan’s average of 150 amendments per state and 1.3 amendments per year, id. at 23, California exceeds both figures with 518 total amendments and three amendments on average per year 1850–2017, see infra Table 6.

 [64]. See Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 275–77 (“[I]t would be wrong to blame the policy orientation of the California Constitution per se or its high rate of amendability on the initiative.”). The authors argue that the age and complexity factors contribute to California’s amendment rate and point out that constitutions (like California’s) adopted during the late 1800s are populist documents, and California adopted its direct democracy tools at the height of the Progressive era. Id. at 276 (“[T]he main causes of California’s constitutional hyper-amendability are the era in which it was adopted and the influence that the populist and Progressive movements had on its contents.”).

 [65]. California’s constitution has featured significant constitutional legislation since the original 1849 constitution was debated. Brown, supra note 24, at 33, (“The proposed bill is objectionable. It embraces legislative enactments. . . . When a Convention assumes to pass laws and impose them upon the people, it constitutes itself an oligarchy.”) (statement by Mr. Botts); id. at 41 (arguing for no legislative enactments in a bill of rights as that subject belongs in statute books) (statements by Mr. McCarver, Mr. Ord, and Mr. Jones); id. at 42 (“While taking the first step in the first movement to form the first fundamental law of the new State, it would be improper to insert legislative enactments for her government five, ten, or twenty years hence.”) (statement by Mr. Shannon).

 [66]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 25–26 tbl.1.3.

 [67]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17 and at 17 tbl.1.2. We exclude Massachusetts and Mississippi because the legislatures in those states can either block or change initiative amendments.

 [68]. Cal. Constitution Ctr., California’s Constitution Is Not the Longest, SCOCABlog (June 24, 2017), http://scocablog.com/californias-constitution-is-not-the-longest. And California’s is not the longest constitution in the world: it is the eighth longest constitution worldwide. Id. Cain and Noll argue that the more topics covered by a constitution, the greater the likely perceived need for amendment over time, and that California’s constitution covers the widest range of topics with the greatest degree of specificity compared with the other states. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 273, 276. Note that others reach different results on this issue. See, e.g., Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 23 (noting California has the world’s third-longest constitution after India and Louisiana) (citing Brian P. Janiskee & Ken Masugi, Democracy in California: Politics and Government in the Golden State (Rowman & Littlefield, 3d ed. 2011)).

 [69]. But see Dinan, supra note 4, at 28 (“Every major study has concluded that the longer and more detailed state constitutions are amended more frequently than short and spare constitutions.”).

 [70]. There is no scholarly consensus on why some state constitutions are amended more or less than others, and in particular there is disagreement about the citizen initiative amendment’s effects. Dinan, supra note 4, at 24–30.

 [71]. See, e.g., Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1173.

 [72]. The source data from Tables 3, 4, 5, and 6 and Figures 1–8, is taken from the California Secretary of State study, History of California Initiatives 1912–2002, Cal. Sec’y of State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/resources-and-historical-information/history-california
-initiatives (last visited Apr. 10, 2019), along with an updated 2011 version of the same table provided directly to us by Secretary of State staff, data on titled initiatives provided by the initiative coordinator at the California Office of the Attorney General, the Initiative and Referendum Institute at the University of Southern California Historical Database, and the Hastings College of the Law California Ballot Pamphlet, Propositions and Initiatives databases. The Secretary of State numbers are only current to 2017; as of this article’s publication, the 2018 numbers were not available. And note that the California Supreme Court occasionally removes measures from the ballot; these few instances are included as rejected. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 6; Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 268; Ctr. for Governmental Studies, Democracy by Initiative: Shaping California’s Fourth Branch of Government 2 tbl.1, 6 tbl.2, 12 tbl.5 (2d ed. 2008).

 [73]. There are conflicting study results about whether voter participation and approval are related to ballot position. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 68­–69. We think this supports the idea that there is a maximum effective use limit for the initiative that is independent of how many proposals are on the ballot.

 [74]. See Wyn Grant, Direct Democracy in California: Example or Warning?, in Democracy and North America 133, 137–38 (Alan Ware ed., Frank Cass & Co., 1996) (arguing that while the number of circulated initiatives shows a strong upward trend, the number qualified does not rise as quickly, and the gap between circulated and approved initiatives is much wider than that between qualifying and approved initiatives.). But see Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 17 (arguing that the overall rate of initiative passage has increased from an average of 35% in the 1900’s to 53% from 2000 to 2006). Note that Baldassare and Katz worked from partial data. With the benefit of data for the whole period of 2000–2010, the research here shows that passage rates during that period are within the normal range.

 [75]. The increase in initiatives and amendments also coincides with the anti-tax movement that caused the passage of the property tax reform initiative Proposition 13 in 1978. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 75; Gordon, supra note 5, at 2 fig.1.1. Doubtless there are sociological contributing factors to explain the cyclical rise, fall, and rise of initiative usage, such as distraction during and disinterest following World War II. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 12; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 5 (showing initiatives declined during and after World War II to a low in the 1960’s, increasing beginning in the late 1970’s and continuing to the present).

 [76]. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 248 (“[T]here is no evidence that voters make much distinction between an initiative that is a statute and one that is a constitutional amendment.”).

 [77]. Our results for California are consistent with conditions in other states: “Legislature-referred amendments make up the vast majority of recent amendments, generally about 90 percent of all amendments in each election cycle.” Dinan, supra note 4, at 34.

 [78]. This analysis does not cover the nature of the initiatives tabulated here, in the sense of whether they advanced the aims of a particular political party or interest group, or more generally the distribution of conservative or liberal principles in initiatives. Note, however, that there is some support for the conclusion that California initiatives overall do not indicate any bias in favor of liberal or conservative causes. See Robert D. Cooter, The Strategic Constitution 144 (2000).

 [79]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 247 (“[T]he proportion of initiatives that ends up in the court system has greatly increased in recent years.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 152 (“[A]bout half of the initiatives passed in California . . . between 1960 and 1999 faced legal challenges . . . and many had significant portions of their content invalidated . . . .”).

 [80]. This convergence provides some support for Allswang’s conclusion that “the direct legislation process is having a greater-than-ever effect on current California and even national affairs,” Allswang, supra note 18, at 245, but given our other findings, we would not characterize this evidence so strongly.

 [81]. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 221.

 [82]. See generally James Surowiecki, The Wisdom of Crowds: Why the Many Are Smarter than the Few and How Collective Wisdom Shapes Business, Economies, Societies, and Nations (2004).

 [83]. See Thomas Fuller, The Pleasure and Pain of Being California, the World’s 5th-Largest Economy, N.Y. Times, (May 7, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/07/us/california-economy-growth.html; Gross State Product, Cal. Dep’t. of Fin., http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting
/Economics/Indicators/Gross_State_Product (last visited Apr. 10, 2019); Regional Data: GDP and Personal Data, Bureau Econ. Analysis, https://apps.bea.gov/iTable/iTable.cfm?0=1200&isuri=1
&reqid=70&step=10&1=1&2=200&3=sic&4=1&5=xx&6=-1&7=-1&8=-1&9=70&10=levels#reqid
=70&step=10&isuri=1&7003=200&7004=naics&7035=-1&7005=1&7006=xx&7001=1200&7036=-1&7002=1&7090=70&7007=-1&7093=levels (last visited Apr. 10, 2019).

 [84]. See Cal. Dep’t of State, Reasons Why Senate Constitutional Amendment No. 22 Should Be Adopted, in Proposed Amendments to the Constitution of the State of California, with Legislative Reasons for and Against the Adoption Thereof 5, 5–6 (1911) (“It is not intended and will not be a substitute for legislation, but will constitute that safeguard which the people should retain for themselves, to supplement the work of the legislature by initiating those measures which the legislature either viciously or negligently fails or refuses to enact; and to hold the legislature in check, and veto or negative such measures as it may viciously or negligently enact.”).

Moreover, a study of the history of the initiative and referendum in those states where they have been in vogue shows that representative government is not destroyed. In most states the system has scarcely been applied at all, and remains in abeyance to be used whenever any considerable portion of the voters think that the legislature has failed to do its duty; and even in Oregon, where the system has been most extensively used, the legislature has been by no means abolished, or even set on the way to destruction.

Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 22–23, 37 (discussing “the advantages which the representative system affords in initiation may be combined with those of popular initiative”).

 [85]. See generally David A. Carrillo & Danny Y. Chou, California Constitutional Law: Separation of Powers, 45 U.S.F. L. Rev. 655 (2011).

 [86]. California Term Limits, Proposition 140 (1990), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org
/California_Term_Limits,_Proposition_140_(1990) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019). This proposition modified and added to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. IV, §§ 1.5, 2, 4.5, 7.5; art. V, § 11; art. VII, § 11(d); art. IX, § 2; art. XIII, § 17; art. XX, § 7).

 [87]. California Proposition 20, Congressional Redistricting (2010), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org/California_Proposition_20,_Congressional_Redistricting_(2010) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (modifying and adding to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. XXI, §§ 1–3); California Proposition 25, Majority Vote for Legislature to Pass the Budget (2010), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org/California_Proposition_25,_Majority_Vote_for_Legislature_to_Pass_the_Budget_(2010) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (modifying and adding to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. IV, § 12).

 [88]. For example, the legislatively-referred constitutional amendment Proposition 14 in 2010 abolished the party primary system, replacing it with a single open primary with a top-two finish regardless of party.

 [89]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 1–2, 5 (discussing how the initiative process lacks critical legislative process elements and has intended and unintended effects on ability of representative government to develop comprehensive policy).

 [90]. One Hundred and Thirty-First Day, in 3 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 1268, 1277 (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (statement of Mr. Ayers) (“It is true that large bodies are unwieldy and move slowly, but they move surely and justly, and they are representative in their character. They take in and represent all the diversified interests of the State, and every measure is thoroughly and exhaustively discussed before it is acted upon.”).

 [91]. Wright, supra note 12, at 8.

It may be easy to determine what the effect of a given law will be upon a certain trade or a particular community, but its ramifications often extend beyond the vision of the wisest. Well-meaning laws not infrequently bring about results not contemplated. . . . (b) . . . No law should be enacted without a systematic study of its necessity, and the injury it may inflict as well as the evil it is intended to correct. . . . (c) Any ill-considered law is dangerous to the public good. . . . (g) Every law before being enacted should be submitted to some forum in which it is subject to deliberation and amendment. Under the proposed initiative and referendum no amendment is possible, even though a law should be proposed containing a provision which is palpably unjust and vicious.

Id.

 [92]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 28 (presented with several choices, citizens vote strategically); id. at 214–15 (raising transaction costs decreases demand for enacting legislation, causing increased total expenditures on legislation focused on laws considered necessary not merely desirable, privileging the status quo).

 [93]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 128; Cooter, supra note 78, at 214–15 (raising transaction costs decreases demand for enacting legislation, causing increased total expenditures on legislation focused on laws considered necessary not merely desirable, privileging the status quo).

 [94]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 16.

 [95]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 248 (“This chicken-and-egg argument has been around for a long time, indeed since Progressivism.”); Grant, supra note 74, at 142; The Withering Branch, supra note 1 (“California’s legislature must therefore have undergone a stunning decline in the past three decades. What role the initiative process had in this deterioration is a chicken-and-egg question. In Hiram Johnson’s day initiatives seemed to be needed as a check on a venal legislature. Now perhaps a dysfunctional legislature is triggering a plethora of initiatives as citizens take matters into their own hands.”).

 [96]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 249; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 133; Joseph de Maistre, 1 Lettres et Opuscules Inédits, no. 53 Letter of 15 August 1811 (1851) (“Toute nation a le gouvernement qu’elle mérite”), reprinted in The Yale Book of Quotations 485 (Fred R. Shapiro ed., 2006).

 [97]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 4. Note that competition in government is not an unqualified good—democracy simply is the best overall at minimizing the maximum potential harm from such competition by harnessing it to achieve greater citizen satisfaction with government. See id. at 128–29 (“Increasing political competition carries the hope of improving alignment between the interests of politicians and the preferences of citizens.”); id. at 360 (“Competition does not produce good results as predictably in politics as it does in economics.”).

 [98]. There is a wealth of scholarly and popular debate over direct democracy’s process and result quality. See, e.g., Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 5 (“[T]he accumulating effects of 25 years of initiatives . . . have so hamstrung both state and local governments that elected legislators, county supervisors and school board members have become the handmaidens, not the leaders, of policymaking in California. Because of it they’ve become increasingly unable (and sometimes unwilling) to set priorities and respond to problems when they occur.”); Cronin, supra note 5, at 60–62.

 [99]. R. Jeffrey Lustig, A People’s Convention for California, in Remaking California: Reclaiming the Public Good 195 (R. Jeffrey Lustig ed., 2010) (“In 1930 Governor Young was already complaining that initiative amendments had produced a constitution ‘bad in form, inconstant in particulars, loaded with unnecessary detail, encumbered with provisions of no permanent value, and replete with matter which might more properly be contained in the statute law of the state.’”).

 [100]. See, e.g., id. at 195 (“[The initiative’s] narrow, single-shot focus and insulation from information about their possible consequences at the drafting stage, initiatives are also most conducive to incoherence and disorganization in the political system as a whole.”); Jesse H. Choper, Judicial Review and the National Political Process 14–15 (Univ. of Chicago Press, 1980) (stating that studies show that “a distressingly large percentage of voters is almost totally uninformed” and many voters know little and care less about candidates and issues).

 [101]. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 247 (“[I]nitiatives still present voters with a ‘take it or leave it’ situation, where there is no room for compromise.”).

 [102]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 12; Vermeule, supra note 17, at 80–81 (discussing “the deliberative virtues of forcing lawmaking to proceed through the hurdles of the legislative process”).

 [103]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 53 (discussing the Coase Theorem, which posits that bargaining tends to succeed as transaction costs approach zero).

 [104]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 6–7.

 [105]. Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 16–19.

 [106]. Id. at 3.

 [107]. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 43.

 [108]. Mark Baldassare, Pub. Policy Inst. of Cal., Reforming California’s Initiative Process 5 (2013), http://www.ppic.org/content/pubs/atissue/AI_1013MBAI.pdf (finding consistently that approximately three-quarters of California voters find there are both too many propositions on the ballots and that proposition wording is too confusing, causing them to question what would happen if an initiative passed).

 [109]. See Just the Facts: The Initiative Process in California, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal. (Oct. 2013), https://www.ppic.org/publication/the-initiative-process-in-california.

 [110]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 179.

 [111]. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 34–35.

 [112]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 187–90. One modern problem in particular, the influence of money on campaigns, has similar effects on outcomes in initiative campaigns as it does in representative and legislative issue elections. Id. at 190. See also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 38; One Hundred and Twelfth Day, in 2 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 1053, 1063 (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (statement of Mr. Hager) (“If we cannot trust the people themselves, how can we trust a Legislature elected by the people? Legislatures have disappointed the people, will the people prove unfaithful to themselves?”).

 [113]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 145 (“A practical reason compels restricting each ballot initiative to a single issue. Logrolling, which combines issues in a single vote, requires bargaining. Bargaining among different groups requires representation. Ballot initiatives bypass elected representatives. Thus a multiple-purpose ballot initiative invites bargaining without bargaining agents.”). This argument, that multiple-issue voting inevitably fails, is true as far as it goes—it does not prevent competing propositions from qualifying for the ballot, but it may indicate that this feature of California direct democracy is a flaw that invites cycling.

 [114]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 74–75 tbls.4.2 & 4.3.

 [115]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 189 (assuming that people can evaluate both candidates and issues, the question is what set of institutions leads to the optimal outcomes representing the people’s consensus views); see also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 34–35.

 [116]. See Allswang, supra note 18, at 239. One commentator argues that the ballot pamphlet is so important to the electorate’s thought process that judicial review should limit evidence of voter intent to the ballot pamphlet’s contents. Sutro, supra note 26, at 947, 968 (“Voter exposure to initiatives is limited solely to official materials presented in the ballot pamphlet, and judicial review should reflect this.”); see also Sutro, supra note 26 at 973 (“[T]he only reliable source for interpretation of initiative language, other than its common meaning, is the material presented to all voters in the voter pamphlet prior to the election.”).

 [117]. See Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 35–36.

 [118]. Id. at 37, 50–51 (discussing studies that show ballot propositions increase voter turnout especially in low-information election contexts, and so may motivate the population segment least likely to vote); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 151 (stating that voters can and do use various sources of information to learn what they need to know).

 [119]. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 85; see also Grant, supra note 74, at 140–41 (“[V]oters do have enough knowledge and judgment to detect attempts by business interests to use the initiative process to serve their own interests.”).

 [120]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 15. But see Cooter, supra note 78, at 144–45 (arguing that, although ballot initiatives cost more than legislative lobbying, California voters “apparently pursue the more costly alternative because they believe that ballot initiatives mostly create laws that the legislature would not enact”).

 [121]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 7 (arguing that voters can figure out how to vote their preferences and scholarly disagreement results from the true preferences of voters striking scholars as unpleasant, shortsighted, narrow, or all three); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 36 (noting Swiss cantons with initiatives show increased levels of participation); Mueller, supra note 3, at 189 (citing evidence that voter turnout is uniformly higher in elections with initiative measures on the ballot); Mueller, supra note 3, at 190 (finding the historical record suggests that voter initiatives are “useful addition” to democratic institutions in most countries where they exist); Mueller, supra note 3, at 191 n.13.

 [122]. See Mueller, supra note 3, at 95; see also Wright, supra note 12 (“The voter should remember that though the initiative and referendum may work satisfactorily in small communities, or in cities where the population is compact, it does not necessarily follow that it will be a success when applied to a commonwealth in which the interests are as varied and the population as large and the needs of the people as multifarious as they are in California”).

 [123]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 1–3; Wood, supra note 7, at 58 (“[T]he republican state necessarily had to be small in territory and generally similar in interests.”).

 [124]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 102.

 [125]. Id. at 97–98 (“Even in ancient Greece membership to the assembly had to be restricted once the size of the polity grew beyond these limits.”).

 [126]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 364–68; see also Zasloff, supra note 9, at 1122–23 (discussing how federal government was intentionally designed to eliminate direct democracy).

 [127]. John C. Yoo, Crisis and Command 29 (2009).

 [128]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 97–98 (“In Switzerland and some New England towns, direct democracy is practiced in communities of 10,000 or even 20,000 or more . . . but the most successful direct democracies are likely to be smaller communities.” (citation omitted)). In the modern era, popular assemblies have been used on a smaller scale (“a few hundred citizens”) in Japan, Poland, Iceland, Turkey, the former West Germany, England, and Wales. Mueller, supra note 3, at 100 n.5.

 [129]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 102.

 [130]. Cal. Dep’t of Fin., New State Population Report: California Grew by 335,000 Residents in 2016 1 (2016), http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting/Demographics/Estimates/E-1
/documents/E-1_2017PressRelease.pdf; Cal. Sec’y of State, Statement of the Vote 1–3 (2016), http://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/sov/2016-general/sov/2016-complete-sov.pdf; see also The Council of State Gov’ts, The Book of the States, 346 tbl.6.8, 574 (2010) (providing figures for 2008 presidential election); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; Mueller, supra note 3, at 97 (“[E]ven the smallest nation-states today are too large to make collective decisions using procedures in which citizens actively debate and decide issues in open meetings.”).

 [131]. For example, the “majority” that enacted the initiative measure Proposition 8 (banning same sex marriage) was only 7 million votes. That figure is only 41% of the state’s registered voters (17 million), 30% of eligible voters (23 million), and only 19% of the total state population (37 million). Statement of the Vote, supra note 130; see also Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; The Book of the States, supra note 130, at 346, 574 (figures for 2008 presidential election).

 [132]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [133]. How to Qualify an Initiative, Cal. Sec’y State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/how-qualify-initiative (last visited Apr. 11, 2019).

 [134]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(b); Cal. Elec. Code § 9035 (West 2018); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 76; see also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 36 (“Wherever the initiative is in force, a new trade, that of getting signatures, develops.”); Grant, supra note 74, at 138–39; LeDuc, supra note 5, at 150 (describing the professional initiative industry).

 [135]. Ctr. for Governmental Stud., supra note 72, at 11 tbl.4, 15 tbl.6 (2nd ed., 2008); John Wildermuth, Costs Soar to Qualify Initiatives for Ballot, S.F. Chronicle (Jan. 2, 2019), https://www.sfchronicle.com/politics/article/Qualifying-a-California-ballot-measure-to-become-13501800.php.

 [136]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 144; see also David L. Callies, Nancy C. Neuffer & Carlito P. Caliboso, Ballot Box Zoning: Initiative, Referendum and the Law, 39 Wash. U. J. Urb. & Contemp. L. 53, 61–62 (1991).

In reality, however, the initiative process may not be a tool for the politically powerless, but a tool for the well-financed and politically connected. The cost, the time, and the energy required to place an initiative on the ballot are impractical for local grassroots movements. Petition circulation has become a multi-million dollar business in California, with costs per signature gathered for the 1990 campaign estimated at $1.21. Not surprisingly, the high cost of seeing an initiative to the ballot affects who sponsors initiatives. Well-financed individuals, lobbyists, and special interest groups proposed most of the initiatives for recent elections. Such a result is ironic, given the original goals of the initiative process.

Sutro, supra note 26, at 949–50 (footnotes omitted).

 [137]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 85, 109 (concluding that with a 25% success rate promoting “yes” campaigns compared to 75% success rate promoting “no” campaigns, Cronin concludes that “money counts the most” in opposing a ballot measure); see also Grant, supra note 74, at 140 (arguing while voters may simply vote “no” out of “cussedness,” high spending on the “no” side of an initiative heavily favors rejection).

 [138]. See Vermeule, supra note 17, at 170.

 [139]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [140]. See id.; Matt Childers & Mike Binder, The Differential Effects of Initiatives and Referenda on Voter Turnout in the United States, 1890–2008, 19 Chapman L. Rev. 35, 41 (2016).

 [141]. See Childers & Binder, supra note 140.

 [142]. See Vermeule, supra note 17; Childers & Binder, supra note 140, at 35.

 [143]. See Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(a).

 [144]. See Jeremy B. White, Why Californians Have to Vote on 17 Ballot Measures, Sacramento Bee (Nov. 4, 2016, 04:14 PM), http://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert
/article112617278.html.

 [145]. See S.B. 202, 2011 Leg., Reg. Sess. (Cal. 2011).

 [146]. White, supra note 145.

 [147]. See generally Ned Augenblick & Scott Nicholson, Ballot Position, Choice Fatigue, and Voter Behavior, 83 Rev. Econ. Stud. 460 (Apr. 2016); Simon Hedlin, Do Long Ballots Offer Too Much Democracy?, Atlantic (Nov. 3, 2015), https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2015/11/long-ballots-democracy/413701.

 [148]. Augenblick & Nicholson, supra note 1478, at 478. We discuss S.B. 202’s other effects in Section IV.B. See also Helios Herrera & Andrea Mattozzi, Quorum and Turnout in Referenda, 8 J. European Econ. Ass’n. 838, 853 (2010). In a sense, consciously nonvoting citizens are by default encouraging an alternative de facto representative system, where the nonvoters are represented by the voting population. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 77. As with elected representatives, presumably the nonvoters are at least somewhat satisfied with the results, and the nonvoters always retain the option of flocking to the polls to elect different representatives or to vote for different propositions.

 [149]. See Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [150]. Of the approximately 39.5 million people in California, 24.8 million are eligible to vote, 19.4 million are registered to vote, and 14.6 million voted in the November 2016 general election—considering that most initiatives pass with approximately 50% of the votes cast, that means that a majority of 7.3 million (or 18% of the state population) sets policy for the state. Statement of the Vote, supra note 130; see also Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; The Book of the States, supra note 130, at 346, 574 (figures for 2008 presidential election). But see Cooter, supra note 78, at 20 (arguing that economists find general voter participation rates to be surprisingly high: given the negligible probability that a single vote will change the outcome in a large election, the cost-benefit analysis for a self-interested citizen should result in the effort required to vote exceeding the expected benefit.).

 [151]. Proposition 42 in 2014 on public records and open meetings passed with approval from just 13.92% of registered voters. We calculated the final majority vote percentage from the official California Secretary of State registration and turnout figures. Cal. Sec’y of State, Historical Voter Registration and Participation in Statewide General Elections 1910–2016 (2016), http://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/sov/2016-general/sov/04-historical-voter-reg-participation.pdf.

 [152]. Note that this problem has been a known bug since Progressive times. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 37–38. And those authors proposed a similar solution to ours. See id. at 41.

 [153]. “As of May 2018, 19 million of California’s 25.1 million eligible adults were registered to vote. At 75.7% of eligible adults, this is a slight increase from the registration rate in 2014 (73.3%), the year of the last gubernatorial election.” California’s Likely Voters, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., http://www.ppic.org/publication/californias-likely-voters (last visited Apr. 11, 2019). Note that the number of registered voters (while remaining low) also remains consistent: “The share of eligible adults who are registered—currently 73%—has not varied much in recent years.” Voter Participation in California, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., (analyzing turnout data 2000–2014), http://www.ppic.org
/publication/voter-participation-in-california (last visited Apr. 11, 2019); see also McGhee et al., Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., California’s Future: Political Landscape (2018), http://www.ppic.org/wp-content/uploads/r-118emr.pdf.

 [154]. See McGhee et al., supra note 153.

 [155]. As California Secretary of State voter data reveals, participation varies across election types. See supra Table 8.

 [156]. The data for these calculations (and those in Table 8) is derived from the California Secretary of State’s official participation and election summary data, see Cal. Sec’y of State, supra note 151.

 [157]. See supra Table 8 (California voter turnout by election type).

 [158]. See Abdurashid Solijonov, Voter Turnout Trends Around the World, Int’l Inst. Democracy & Electoral Assistance 8 (2016), https://www.idea.int/sites/default/files/publications/voter-turnout-trends-around-the-world.pdf; McGhee et al., supra note 153, at 2. As noted in the previous Section, we found no evidence that California’s low turnout rate is caused by the initiative’s existence. See supra Section III.D.

 [159]. Calculations derived from Cal. Sec’y of State, supra note 151.

 [160]. See McGhee et al., supra note 153, at 2. There are contrary findings. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 145. But note that Allswang ultimately concurs with our point: “Not only is the number of people actually deciding these propositions quite small—it is also . . . hardly a representative cross-section. The wealthier, better-educated, older, and white vote in considerably larger numbers than the poor, ill-schooled, young, and minority group members.” Id. at 246.

 [161]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 76, tbl.4.4.

 [162]. Proposition 35 never took effect. See Doe v. Harris, 772 F.3d 563, 563 (9th Cir. 2014).

 [163]. Proposition 1A received 83.7% approval; Proposition 59 received 83.3% approval; Proposition 35 received 81.4% approval; and Proposition 58 received 73.5% approval. Calculations derived from Statewide Election Results, Cal. Sec’y State, https://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/prior-elections
/statewide-election-results (last visited Apr. 11, 2019) (using 1990–2016 results).

 [164]. Proposition 1A in 2004 received the highest percentage approval from eligible voters: 42.6%. Calculations derived from Statewide Election Results, supra note 163.

 [165]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(a).

 [166]. Out of 156 approved ballot propositions between 1990 and 2016, 37 failed to pass this majority threshold. See infra Table 10.

 [167]. The California Government Code requires quorum, “which is a majority of the five members,” “before the council has legal authority to act.” Malathy Subramanian, Voting Requirements: Absences, Vacancies, Abstentions, and Disqualifications 1 (2006) (citing Cal. Gov. Code § 36810 (West 2018)).

 [168]. See id. at 1 (citing People v. Harrington, 63 Cal. 257, 260 (1883) (“We . . . regard the law as well settled that . . . the action of a quorum is the action of the board, and that a majority of the quorum present could do any act which a majority of the board if present might do.”).

 [169]. See, e.g., Henry M. Robert, Roberts’ Rules of Order Newly Revised 347 (11th ed. 2011) (“In a committee of the whole or its variations, the quorum is the same as in the assembly unless the rules of the assembly or the organization (that is, either its bylaws or its rules of order) specify otherwise.”).

 [170]. See Cal. Civ. Code § 12 (West 2018); Cal. Civ. Code Pro. § 15 (West 2018).

 [171]. See, e.g., Cal. Gov. Code § 36810 (West 2018).

 [172]. See Elliot Bulmer, Int’l Inst. for Democracy & Electoral Assistance, Direct Democracy 17­–18 (2014), https://www.idea.int/sites/default/files/publications/direct-democracy-primer.pdf.

 [173]. Luís Aguiar-Conraria & Pedro C. Magalhães, Referendum Design, Quorum Rules and Turnout, 144 Pub. Choice 63, 64–65 (2010).

 [174]. Herrera & Mattozzi, supra note 148, at 858.

 [175]. Id.

 [176]. Id. at 839.

 [177]. See id. at 858.

 [178]. See Baldassare, supra note 108.

 [179]. For average abstention rates, see supra Table 9.

 [180]. Studies have shown that the longer the ballot, the more voter choices deviate from their expressed ideology. See Peter Selb, Supersized Votes: Ballot Length, Uncertainty, and Choice in Direct Legislation Elections, 135 Pub. Choice 319, 332 (2008).

 [181]. S.B. 202 limits ballot propositions to general elections.

 [182]. See Let the People Fail to Decide, Economist (May 19, 2016), https://www.economist.com
/leaders/2016/05/19/let-the-people-fail-to-decide (“These dangers can be mitigated. Requiring minimum turnouts can guard against the tyranny of the few. Italy’s 50% threshold is about right.”).

 [183]. See Baldassare, supra note 108, at 8–9.

 [184]. Williams, supra note 3, at 225.

 [185]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 21.

 [186]. Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 560–61 (Cal. 1995).

 [187]. See Williams, supra note 3, at 225.

 [188]. We noted elsewhere that there are difficult questions at the outer limits of this principle: “[A]lthough the provisions of the constitution are binding on future legislatures and electorates alike, the electorate cannot restrict its own future initiative power through the initiative process.” Carrillo, supra note 13, at 746; see also County of Los Angeles v. State, 729 P.2d 202, 209 n.9 (Cal. 1987) (“Whether a constitutional provision which requires a supermajority vote to enact substantive legislation, as opposed to funding the program, may be validly enacted as a Constitutional amendment rather than through revision of the Constitution is an open question.” (citing Amador Valley Joint Union High Sch. Dist. v. State Bd. of Equalization, 583 P.2d 1281, 1289 (Cal. 1978))).

 [189]. Prof’l Eng’rs in Cal. Gov’t v. Kempton, 155 P.3d 226, 239–40 (Cal. 2007) (citing Cal. Const. art. IV, § 1).

 [190]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 13.

 [191]. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 731.

 [192]. See Choper, supra note 100, at 64–65.

 [193]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 146–47. Another response to the pro-majoritarian criticism is Professor Cooter’s argument that direct democracy factors issues, which does not necessarily harm minorities more than the spliced voting that would occur in the legislature. In factored voting, the minority on one dimension of choice is not necessarily the same group across all issues, with the result that any one person may win on some issues and lose on others. Thus, only some minorities will lose, and only sometimes; under those conditions, majorities will not exploit minorities more under direct than under indirect democracy. Cooter, supra note 78, at 146.

 [194]. Frank Clifford, Voters Repudiate 3 of Court’s Liberal Justices, L.A. Times (Nov. 5, 1986), https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1986-11-05-mn-15232-story.html (detailing voters’ rejection of California Supreme Court Chief Justice Rose Bird and Justices Joseph Grodin and Cruz Reynoso, who were on the November 1986 general election ballot for retention). Scholars debate how strictly courts should review electorate acts. In his seminal article on that subject, Professor Eule argued that courts should scrutinize plebiscites more aggressively than legislative acts. Julian Eule, Judicial Review of Direct Democracy, 99 Yale L.J. 1503 passim (1990). But he cautioned that not only are his arguments inapplicable to the states, states (like California) whose constitutions give the voters direct lawmaking power are the strongest case for greater judicial deference to electorate acts. Id. at 1547–48.

 [195]. In this Section, we briefly explain several procedural constraints and substantive rules that California courts have developed to define and limit the process of constitutional change and regulate the exercise of the electorate’s power. We note, but do not discuss, the various procedural issues that commonly arise, related to such things as signature gathering, title, and summary.

 [196]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(d).

  [197]. Senate of Cal. v. Jones, 988 P.2d 1089, 1098 (Cal. 1999); Sutro, supra note 26, at 961–62.

The primary purpose of the legislative single-subject rule is recognized as the prevention of log-rolling, the practice of several minorities combining their legislative proposals as different provisions of a single bill and thus consolidating their votes so that a majority is obtained. Additional purposes of the legislative single-subject rule are the preservation of an orderly legislative process and the prevention of deception of the legislature and the public. Single-subject legislation promotes clarity in the legislative process and ensures there will be little confusion due to multi-subject bills.

Sutro, supra note 26, at 961–62 (quotations and footnotes omitted); see also Steven W. Ray, The California Initiative Process: The Demise of the Single-Subject Rule, 14 Pac. L.J. 1095, 1096–98 (1983).

 [198]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098; Sutro, supra note 26, at 963–64.

 [199]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098–99 (quoting Brosnahan v. Brown, 651 P.2d 274, 284 (Cal. 1982)).

 [200]. Briggs v. Brown, 400 P.3d 29, 38 (Cal. 2017) (quoting Californians for an Open Primary v. McPherson, 134 P.3d 299, 318 (Cal. 2006)); see also Perry v. Jordan, 207 P.2d 47, 50 (Cal. 1949); Evans v. Super. Ct., 8 P.2d 467, 469 (Cal. 1932).

 [201]. Briggs, 400 P.3d at 38 (emphasis added) (internal quotation marks omitted) (citations omitted).

 [202]. Brown v. Super. Ct., 371 P.3d 223, 232 (Cal. 2016) (ellipsis omitted) (quoting Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d, 1309, 1321 (Cal. 1991)). The California Supreme Court interprets legislative and initiative acts with the same test. The cardinal rule of statutory interpretation in California is that the statute is to be construed so as to give effect to the intent of the lawmakers. Mercer v. Perez, 436 P.2d 315, 320 (Cal. 1968). In construing constitutional and statutory provisions, “whether enacted by the legislature or by initiative, the intent of the enacting body is the paramount consideration.” In re Lance W., 694 P.2d 744, 754 (Cal. 1985).

 [203]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098.

 [204]. Manduley v. Super. Ct., 41 P.3d 3, 28–29 (Cal. 2002) (quoting Jones, 988 P.2d at 1162).

 [205]. Grodin et al., supra note 26, at 70 (calling the single-subject rule “a toothless tiger”); see also Ray, supra note 197, at 1096 (“[T]he court should adopt a stricter interpretation of the single-subject rule where initiatives are concerned to prevent those proposals from ever being presented to the electorate.”). See generally Robert D. Cooter & Michael D. Gilbert, A Theory of Direct Democracy and the Single-Subject Rule, 110 Colum. L. Rev. 687 (2010) (proposing a democratic process theory of the single-subject rule).

 [206]. Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1207 (internal quotation marks omitted).

 [207]. Two commentators argue that the distinctions between legislative and initiative acts require distinct single-subject rules. Ray, supra note 197, at 1101 (“The two processes here in question, the initiative and the legislative, are not the same. In fact, the vast differences between the two compel a change in the current application of the single-subject rule to initiatives.”); Sutro, supra note 26, at 966 (using canons to interpret initiatives wrongly assumes voter knowledge of existing law and an intent for uniformity and consistency, ignoring limited voter knowledge).

 [208]. Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 86 n.19 (Cal. 2009) (noting that when McFadden was decided, there was no California constitutional provision applying the single-subject rule to initiative measures).

 [209]. Cal. Const. art. IV, § 12(d).

 [210]. Cal. Elec. Code §§ 9001–02 (West 2018).

 [211]. Id. § 9004.

 [212]. See Strauss, 207 P.3d at 132.

 [213]. See id. at 61.

 [214]. Id. at 97 (quoting Raven v. Deukmejian, 801 P.2d 1077, 1085 (Cal. 1990).

 [215]. Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d 1309, 1340 (Cal. 1991) (alterations in original) (quoting Livermore v. Waite, 36 P. 424, 426 (Cal. 1894)).

 [216]. An initiative constitutional amendment may be placed on the ballot after collecting a number of elector signatures equal to 8% of the votes for all candidates for Governor in the last gubernatorial election. Cal. Const. art. XVIII, § 8(b). By contrast, only the state legislature is empowered to propose revisions. Id. § 1 (“The Legislature . . . may propose an amendment or revision of the Constitution . . . .”); id. § 2 (“The Legislature . . . may submit at a general election the question whether to call a convention to revise the Constitution.”); id. § 4 (“A proposed amendment or revision shall be submitted to the electors . . . .”).

 [217]. Cal. Const. art. XVIII.

 [218]. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [219]. Id. at 740.

 [220]. The authors have explored Strauss’ revision–amendment analysis in a related context. See David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, California Constitutional Law: The Guarantee Clause and California’s Republican Form of Government, 62 UCLA. L. Rev. Disc. 103, 120–22 (2014).

 [221]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [222]. See id. at 733 n.4 (identifying Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628 (Cal. 2016); Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48 (Cal. 2009); Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d 1309 (Cal. 1991); Raven v. Deukmejian, 801 P.2d 1077 (Cal. 1990), as four cases where an initiative measure has created a separation-of-powers issue).

 [223]. The authors advanced this proposal in a recent law review article. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 751–64. For another perspective, see Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1203–06 (arguing that the initiative does not invade the legislature’s core powers).

 [224]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 751. For much the same reasons, the state’s separation-of-powers doctrine differs from its federal analogue. See Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85, at 665–73 (discussing the differences between the separation of powers doctrines embodied in the California and federal Constitutions); see also Marine Forests Soc’y v. Cal. Coastal Comm’n, 113 P.3d 1062, 1076–78 (Cal. 2005).

 [225]. Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85, at 678–79. Put another way, “the state constitution vests each branch with certain core powers that cannot be usurped by another branch.” Id. at 679.

 [226]. Carmel Valley Fire Prot. Dist. v. State, 20 P.3d 533, 538 (Cal. 2001) (quoting Kasler v. Lockyer, 2 P.3d 581, 594 (Cal. 2000)).

 [227]. Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628, 634 (Cal. 2016) (quoting Marine Forests Soc’y, 113 P.3d at 1087).

 [228]. Younger v. Super. Ct., 577 P.2d 1014, 1024 (Cal. 1978) (emphasis in original) (citing Parker v. Riley, 113 P.2d 873, 873 (Cal. 1941)).

 [229]. Carmel Valley, 20 P.3d at 538 (internal quotation marks omitted).

 [230]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [231]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 119 (“[T]he primary effect of the initiative is power transfer from both branches of government to the median voter.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 116–17 (“The evidence indicates that direct democracy brings about material changes in the functioning of the executive branch”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 118–19 (discussing how “some practical considerations suggest that the governor will usually benefit” from direct democracy by allowing the governor to take proposals directly to the voters).

 [232]. Id. at 118 (“[I]t is clear that the voter is never worse off when the initiative is available.”); id. at 119 (“The political actor that always wins (never loses) from having the initiative available is the median voter.”).

 [233]. See, e.g., Myers v. English, 9 Cal. 341, 349 (1858).

 [234]. Briggs v. Brown, 400 P.3d 29, 50–61 (Cal. 2017) (analyzing separation-of-powers issues created by the passage of Proposition 66, the Death Penalty Reform and Savings Act of 2016).

 [235]. Id.; see also Carrillo, supra note 13; Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85.

 [236]. Wood, supra note 7, at 20; see also Cooter, supra note 78, at 245 (stating that the purpose of individual rights is to provide the legal basis of autonomy).

 [237]. Zasloff, supra note 9, at 1125.

 [238]. Steiner, supra note 3, at 86. One California study showed that “[o]n . . . minority-targeted initiatives, Latinos consistently lose out,” and that “Latinos, indeed, have much to worry about when issues that target their rights are decided via direct democracy.” Zoltan Hajnal et al., Minorities and Direct Legislation: Evidence from California Ballot Proposition Elections, 64 J. Pol. 154, 171 (2002); see also Zoltan Hajnal & Hugh Louch, Pub. Pol’y Inst. of Cal., Are There Winners and Losers? Race, Ethnicity, and California’s Initiative Process (2001). A nationwide study concluded that initiatives to restrict civil rights pass more regularly than other types of initiatives. Barbara S. Gamble, Putting Civil Rights to a Popular Vote, 41 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 245 passim (1997); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 41; Steiner, supra note 3, at 86 (noting the “substantial body of academic literature offering cautions about California’s practice of ballot propositions” based on initiatives being used by powerful special interest groups to capture the powers of the state in self-interested ways, and to threaten the civil rights of vulnerable minorities or exploit and increase racial or ethnic tensions) (citing David S. Broder, Democracy Derailed: Initiative Campaigns and the Power of Money 43 (2000); Ian Budge, The New Challenge of Direct Democracy (1996); Richard J. Ellis, Democratic Delusions: The Initiative Process in America 77 (2002); John Haskell, Direct Democracy or Representative Government? (2001); Bruce A. Larson, Dangerous Democracy (Larry J. Sabato, Bruce A. Larson & Howard R. Ernst eds., 2001); Giovanni Sartori, The Theory of Democracy Revisited (1987); Peter Schrag, Paradise Lost: California’s Experience, America’s Future (1998)).

 [239]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 98 (“If we are to give occasional free rein to majority rule at the ballot box, we shall have to give additional consideration to protecting the rights of minorities.”); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 151 (using the initiative to target vulnerable minorities is a modern example of Madison’s tyranny of the majority).

 [240]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 119, 139 (“The evidence is fairly strong that the initiative does in fact bring about policies favored by the majority.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 147 (“The initiative works as a form of veto point, forcing policy to the position of the median voter on each dimension, and preventing the construction of logrolling coalitions that can challenge the status quo.”).

 [241]. Bruce E. Cain, Constitutional Revision in California, in State Constitutions for the Twenty-First Century 69 (G. Alan Tarr & Robert F. Williams eds., State Univ. of N.Y. Press 2006) (“[T]he eighteenth-century concept of a constitution that balances the rights of the minority against those of the majority simply makes no sense at the state level. Measures that would protect or favor a minority against the majority’s will cannot make it through the constitutional approval process.”).

 [242]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 139. Similar to the current slow rate of adoption of individual rights for same sex persons as a group, Switzerland denied suffrage to women until 1972; in non-initiative systems, the franchise could be extended in a legislative solution as part of a broader political compromise, while in the initiative system, the change required approval from a majority of male voters to reduce their political power by expanding the electorate. The result is similar to the low rate of adoption of legislative term limits in non-initiative states in America, as both situations are governed by the principle that interest groups rarely vote to reduce their power voluntarily.

 [243]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 90–91.

 [244]. See generally, e.g., Boumediene v. Bush, 553 U.S. 723 (2008); Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, 548 U.S. 557 (2006); Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, 542 U.S. 507 (2004); Rasul v. Bush, 542 U.S. 466 (2004); Korematsu v. U.S., 323 U.S. 214 (1944).

 [245]. See generally, e.g., Korematsu, 323 U.S. at 214; Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537 (1896); Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. 393 (1856).

 [246]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 91–92 (collecting examples).

 [247]. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 41, 150–51; Callies et al., supra note 136, at 94–97; Julia Anne Guizan, Is the California Civil Rights Initiative a Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing? Distinguishing Constitutional Amendment from Revision in California’s Initiative Process, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 261 passim (1997).

 [248]. See, e.g., Seventy-Third Day, in 1 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 627 et seq. (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) and Seventy-Seventh Day, in 2 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 700 et seq. (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (anti-coolie provision); Seventy-Seventh Day, supra, at 801 (English-only provision); David A. Kaiser & David A. Carrillo, California Constitutional Law: Reanimating Criminal Procedural Rights After The “Other” Proposition 8, 56 Santa Clara L. Rev. 33 (2016); Proposition 1, Alien Land Law (Cal. 1920), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/130 (anti-Japanese initiative amending state’s alien land law); Proposition 14, Right to Decline to Sell or Rent Residential Real Estate (Cal. 1964), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/672 (initiative amendment overturning statute prohibiting racial discrimination in housing), invalidated by Reitman v. Mulkey, 387 U.S. 369, 375–76 (1967); Proposition 63, English Is the Official Language Amendment (Cal. 1986), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/968 (enacted at Cal. Const. art. IV, § VI) (initiative amendment making English official state language); Proposition 187, Illegal Aliens Ineligibile for Public Benefits (Cal. 1994), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1104 (initiative amendment denying public benefits to illegal immigrants); Proposition 209, California Affirmative Action (1996), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1129 (enacted at Cal. Const. art. 1, § XXXI) (initiative amendment prohibiting affirmative action); Proposition 227, “English Language in Public Schools” Initiative (Cal. 1998), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1151(1998 initiative statute enforcing English-only education); Proposition 8, “Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry” Initiative (Cal. 2008), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1288 (2008 initiative amendment restricting marriage to opposite-sex couples, invalidated by Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693, 693 (2013). But see Proposition 6, the Briggs Initiative (Cal. 1978), http://repository.uchastings.edu
/ca_ballot_props/838 (rejected initiative limiting gay teachers’ rights); Proposition 64, Mandatory Reporting of AIDS (Cal. 1986), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/969 (rejected initiative permitting quarantine of AIDS patients). Of course, discriminatory state governmental actions are not limited to the electorate. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 22; Lustig, supra note 99, at 9 (noting that some 1849 delegates wanted California to be a “white man’s republic,” that the state denied Native Americans, blacks, and Chinese the right to vote, testify, or serve on a jury, and that California did not ratify the Fifteenth Amendment until 1962).

 [249]. Cal. Const. art. I, § 7(a) (providing that “[a] person may not be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law or denied equal protection of the laws.”).

 [250]. In re Marriage Cases, 183 P.3d 384 (Cal. 2008).

 [251]. Proposition 8, “Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry” Initiative (Cal. 2008), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1288, invalidated by Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693, 693 (2013) (invalidating an initiative measure approved by a majority of voters at the November 4, 2008 election that added a new section—section 7.5—to California constitution article I: “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.”).

 [252]. Obergefell v. Hodges, 135 S. Ct. 2584, 2588 (2015) (holding that the right of same-sex couples to marry is protected by the Due Process and Equal Protection Clauses of the U.S. Constitution’s Fourteenth Amendment); Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693 (2013); Perry v. Brown, 671 F.3d 1052, 1095 (9th Cir. 2012) (holding that Proposition 8 violated Equal Protection Clause); Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48 (Cal. 2009) (rejecting argument that Proposition 8 violated constitutional guarantee of equal protection).

 [253]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(d); Cal. Elec. Code § 9002 (West 2018) (“The duty of the Attorney General to prepare title and summary for a proposed initiative measure is a ministerial one, and, . . . mandate will lie to compel him to act when the proposal is in proper form and complies with statutory and constitutional procedural requirements.”); Schmitz v. Younger, 577 P.2d 652, 653 (Cal. 1978) (“[W]ithout prior judicial authorization [the Attorney General] may not delay or impede the initiative process while claims of the measure’s invalidity are determined.”).

 [254]. Brosnahan v. Eu, 641 P.2d 200, 201 (Cal. 1982).

 [255]. Am. Fed’n of Labor v. Eu, 686 P.2d 609, 615 (Cal. 1984).

 [256]. Id. at 614 (quoting Legislature v. Deukmejian, 669 P.2d 17, 21 (Cal. 1983)). There is some tension on whether the electorate’s “power” in this regard refers only to their procedural power, not to their ability to enact laws that substantively violate the constitution. As Justice Mosk explained in his concurring and dissenting opinion in Brosnahan:

The principle is firmly established that unless it is clear that a proposed initiative is unconstitutional, the courts should not interfere with the right of the people to vote on the measure. In the service of this precept, courts have frequently declined to strike an initiative from the ballot despite a claim that its adoption would be a futile act because the measure offends the Constitution. . . . But this rule applies only to the contention that an initiative is unconstitutional because of its substance. If it is determined that the electorate does not have the power to adopt the proposal in the first instance or that it fails to comply with the procedures required by law to qualify for the ballot, the measure must be excluded from the ballot.

Brosnahan, 641 P.2d at 202–03 (Mosk, J., concurring and dissenting). The Court held a similar line in Legislature v. Deukmejian, where it allowed a pre-election challenge that “[went] to the power of the electorate to adopt the proposal in the first instance. This challenge does not require even a cursory examination of the substance of the initiative itself. The question raised is, in a sense, jurisdictional.” Legislature v. Deukmejian, 669 P.2d 17, 21 (Cal. 1983). There is little reason to doubt that the Court would reach the same conclusion, however, when considering an initiative that clearly violates enumerated constitutional rights. The underlying rationale for permitting pre-election review of an invalid initiative applies with equal force in such circumstances. “The presence of an invalid measure on the ballot steals attention, time and money from the numerous valid propositions on the same ballot. It will confuse some voters and frustrate others, and an ultimate decision that the measure is invalid, coming after the voters have voted in favor of the measure, tends to denigrate the legitimate use of the initiative procedure.” Am. Fed’n of Labor, 686 P.2d at 615.

 [257]. See Younger, P.2d at 653.

 [258]. Am. Fed’n of Labor, 686 P.2d 611, 629; see also Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla, No. S249859, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 6817, *1–2 (2018).

 [259]. See, e.g., Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n. v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628, 631 (Cal. 2016).

In response to a petition for writ of mandate urging the unconstitutionality of the Legislature’s action, we issued an order to show cause and directed the Secretary of State to refrain from taking further action in connection with placement of Proposition 49 on the ballot. Our action did not rest on a final determination of Proposition 49’s lawfulness. Instead, we concluded “the proposition’s validity is uncertain” and the balance of hardships from permitting an invalid measure to remain on the ballot, as against delaying a proposition to a future election, weighed in favor of immediate relief.

Id.

 [260]. Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Request for Entry of Default Judgement at Ex. A, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. Feb. 24, 2015). Further background on this issue can be found in an unpublished appeal from a related lawsuit filed by the proponent. McLaughlin v. Becerra, No. B280529, 2018 Cal. App. Unpub. LEXIS 739 (2018) (appeal from Los Angeles City Super. Ct. Case No. BC622687).

 [261]. Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Request for Entry of Default Judgement ¶¶ 13–15, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. June 16, 2015).

 [262]. Default Judgment by Court in Favor of Plaintiff, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. June 22, 2015).

 [263]. Planning & Conservation League, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 6817.

 [264]. Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla, No. S249859, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 5200, at *1–2. The court explained its rationale:

Although our past decisions establish that it is usually more appropriate to review challenges to ballot propositions or initiative measures after an election, we have also made clear that in some instances, when a substantial question has been raised regarding the proposition’s validity and the “hardships from permitting an invalid measure to remain on the ballot” outweigh the harm potentially posed by “delaying a proposition to a future election,” it may be appropriate to review a proposed measure before it is placed on the ballot.

Id. (citations omitted).

 [265]. This is not a universally-held view. See, e.g., Lustig, supra note 99, at 65–69, 72.

The initiative theoretically counteracts the federalist model and is a majoritarian tool. . . . One can certainly make the argument that supermajority requirements and the stripping of legislative discretion over spending and taxing are good things in the abstract, but it is difficult to see how those have been good for California in practice. In fact, initiative governance has caused legislative failure on many issues facing the state.

Id.

 [266]. Fuller, supra note 83. This is the relative size of the California economy according to the California Department of Finance and the Bureau of Economic Analysis at the U.S. Department of Commerce as of May 4, 2018. See Gross State Product, Cal. Dep’t. Finance, http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting/Economics/Indicators/Gross_State_Product (last visited Apr. 13, 2019); GDP and Personal Data, Bureau Econ. Analysis, https://apps.bea.gov/iTable/iTable.cfm?0
=1200&isuri=1&reqid=70&step=10&1=1&2=200&3=sic&4=1&5=xx&6=-1&7=-1&8=-1&9=70&10
=levels#reqid=70&step=10&isuri=1&7003=200&7004=naics&7035=-1&7005=1&7006=xx&7001
=1200&7036=-1&7002=1&7090=70&7007=-1&7093=levels (last visited Apr. 13, 2019).

 [267]. Sheila James Kuehl, Either Way You Get Sausages: One Legislator’s View of the Initiative Process, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 1327, 1329–30 (1998).

Californians love their initiatives. They do not like reading the long ones. They do not like it when the courts strike them down for their constitutional defects. They do not like finding out later that they were wrong or misled about the contents. But generally, the people of California jealously guard their ability to make and shape the law independent of the legislature. For the most part, the people feel excluded from the long and arduous process of legislation. They read about the new laws on January 1 of each year and shake their heads or wonder at the omissions. The initiative process provides the people with a way to remedy the paralysis and inaction they perceive in the legislature.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

 [268]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 245; Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 23, 31, 217, tbl.1.2; Cronin, supra note 5, at 78–80 and tbls.4.5 & 4.6, 199, 234 tbl.9.3; Ctr. for Governmental Stud., supra note 72, at 17–27; Grant, supra note 74, at 139; Gordon, supra note 5, at 1.

 [269]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 232 (“Initiatives and referenda are here to stay.”); Cain, supra note 242, at 69 (“[T]o change the initiative process, one would have to ask the voters whom the process has served well to give up their control over policy outcomes. This is unlikely to happen.”); Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1237 (“[O]ne wonders at this point whether Californians would ever accept a government as legitimate if it did not provide for some form of direct democracy.”).

 

Regulating Bankruptcy Bonuses – Article by Jared A. Ellias

 

From Volume 92, Number 3 (March 2019)
DOWNLOAD PDF


 

Regulating Bankruptcy Bonuses

Jared A. Ellias[*]

In 2005, the perception that wealthy executives were being rewarded for failure led Congress to ban Chapter 11 firms from paying retention bonuses to senior managers. Under the new law, debtors could still pay bonuses to executivesbut only “incentive” bonuses triggered by accomplishing challenging performance goals that go beyond merely remaining employed. This Article uses newly collected data to examine how this reform changed bankruptcy practice. While relatively fewer firms use court-approved bonus plans after the reform, the overall level of executive compensation appears to be similar, perhaps because the new regime left large gaps that make it easy for firms to bypass the 2005 law and pay managers without the judge’s permission. This Article argues that the new law was undermined by institutional weaknesses in Chapter 11, as bankruptcy judges are poorly situated to analyze bonus plans and creditors have limited incentives to police executive compensation themselves.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. The Rise of Bankruptcy Bonuses and the 2005 Bankruptcy Reforms

A. The Rise of Bonuses as a Prominent Feature of
Chapter 11 Bankruptcy

B. As the Economy Fell into Recession in the Early 2000s,
the Public Salience and Controversy over Chapter 11 Bonuses Increased

C. Congress Empowers the Oversight of Managers and Restricts Retention Bonuses with the 2005 Reform

II. Theoretical Problems with the 2005 Reform

III. Evidence of Design Problems in the 2005 Reform

A. Sample and Data Gathering

B. Assessing Evidence of Design Flaws in the 2005 Reform

1. Assessing the Effect of the Reform: Evidence of
Higher Costs and Regulatory Evasion.

2. Assessing the Limitations of the Bankruptcy Judge

3. Assessing the Role of Creditors and the U.S. Trustee

IV. The Case for RETHINKING the 2005 Reform

Conclusion

Appendix: Methodology FOR Analyzing
Bankruptcy Costs

 

Introduction

When large firms struggle financially, they usually restructure by firing employees, cutting the pay of those who remain, and cancelling promised pensions. While these measures are often necessary, they can seem unfair when highly paid senior managers do not appear to share in the pain.[1] This unfairness became a major public issue in the early 2000s, as formerlyhigh-flying titans of corporate America like K-Mart, Enron, and WorldCom filed for headline-grabbing Chapter 11 bankruptcies and subsequently paid millions of dollars in bonuses to senior managers.[2] The ensuing public outrage contributed to a growing sense that the economy had become rigged in favor of high-level executives who prospered no matter how poorly their companies fared.[3]

In 2005, Congress responded to this public outcry by banning Chapter 11 debtors from paying retention bonuses to high-level executives.[4] This legal reform eliminated part of then-existing bankruptcy practice, as the largest firms typically paid retention bonuses shortly after filing for bankruptcy on the theory that bonuses were needed to keep employees working hard to turn the firm around.[5] However, the reform did not ban Chapter 11 debtors from paying any type of bonus to senior managersonly bonuses triggered by a manager’s mere continued employment. Under the new regime, Chapter 11 debtors can pay bonuses if they convince a bankruptcy judge that the bonuses are “incentive” bonuses, or bonuses managers would only receive if they accomplish specific, challenging performance goals.[6]

This Article offers the first comprehensive analysis and empirical study of how the 2005 law changed corporate bankruptcy practice. As further explained below, the data suggest that the reform appears to have had little substantive effect on executive compensation.[7] The evidence suggests that this is primarily due to two flaws that undermine the reform. First, the new law only regulates payments characterized as bonuses during the period when firms are in Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Firms can easily sidestep the new law by paying managers before or after the bankruptcy case, and many appear to have done so.[8] Second, bankruptcy law institutions have struggled to administer the law. A rule that bans retention bonuses while allowing incentive bonuses requires bankruptcy judges to make fact-intensive determinations about the “challengingness” of a proposed bonus plan. Unfortunately, bankruptcy judges often lack the information and expertise necessary to perform this inquiry.[9] Although creditors would appear to be well-situated to assist the judge and scrutinize executive compensation themselves, they have little economic incentive to quibble over relatively small bonuses, because doing so might anger the managers with whom they need to negotiate more important Chapter 11 issues.

This Article proceeds as follows. Part I describes how bankruptcy bonuses became a frequent subject of public outrage and how Congress changed the law in 2005 to alter the process through which Chapter 11 debtors pay executive bonuses. Part II explains potential flaws in the design of the reform and develops hypotheses about how those design flaws arguably doomed its implementation. Part III summarizes the sampling and data gathering methodologies and then presents evidence that illustrates the design flaws predicted in Part II. One question that this Article does not answer is whether there actually was a problem that needed fixing prior to the 2005 reform. Most Chapter 11 attorneys appear to believe so, but this is an empirical question that is impossible to answer with available data. However, because the evidence presented in this Article does not support the view that Chapter 11 executive compensation was improved by the reform, Part IV argues that Congress should rethink the 2005 reform.

I.  The Rise of Bankruptcy Bonuses and the 2005 Bankruptcy Reforms

Part I first summarizes how the phrase “bankruptcy bonus” entered the public lexicon and why these bonuses became so controversial. Next, I explore the legislative history of the 2005 reform, before discussing the ways in which the new law altered the ability of Chapter 11 debtors to pay bonuses to their executives.

A.  The Rise of Bonuses as a Prominent Feature of Chapter 11 Bankruptcy

For the first two decades of the Bankruptcy Act of 1978, bonus plans approved by bankruptcy judges were not an important part of bankruptcy practice.[10] The new Bankruptcy Code contained few provisions dealing with executive compensation, and bankruptcy courts routinely granted uncontroversial motions to pay employees their promised salaries.[11] This quiet period ended in the early twenty-first century, as Chapter 11 debtors and the law firms advising them developed a practice of paying retention bonuses outside the ordinary course of business after filing for bankruptcy.[12] Generally, firms that wanted to pay retention bonuses would file a motion asking the judge to approve “Key Employee Retention Plans,” or “KERPs,” which created schedules of payments of retention bonuses.[13]

Chapter 11 debtors offered two main justifications for why they needed to pay retention bonuses. First, they usually pointed to the value that the debtor’s current employees contribute to the restructuring effort.[14] Incumbent employees often have firm-specific knowledge that would be costly to lose and hard to replicate in new employees.[15] Even if the knowledge could be replicated, Chapter 11 debtors may fear that they will have trouble attracting new employees because new hires might hesitate before accepting a job with a bankrupt company.[16]

Second, many debtors claimed that they needed to update their compensation practices to avoid underpaying employees.[17] This underpayment problem arose because of the growing complexity of executive pay packages.[18] At a high level, executive compensation consists of two components: (1) a “base” payment, (2) and a “bonus” payment. The base payment is what we usually think of as salary; the amount of money that a manager expects to be paid for showing up to work every day.[19] The bonus payment is a catchall term that consists of all performance-related pay, such as rewards for achieving a sales goal or remaining an employee of the firm for a certain period of time.[20] Increasingly, in the early 1990s, large firms began to rely on bonus compensation, creating new pressure to update performancecompensation policies to reflect changes in the firm’s business and the disruption created by bankruptcy.[21] Accordingly, Chapter 11 debtors argued that they needed to pay retention bonuses to avoid paying valuable employees significantly less money than they were accustomed to making, undermining morale and retention.[22]

B.  As the Economy Fell into Recession in the Early 2000s, the Public Salience and Controversy over Chapter 11 Bonuses Increased

These retention bonus plans became the subject of controversy in the early 2000’s for three main reasons. First, the public spectacle of a failed firm paying millions of dollars in bonuses to senior managers while firing workers naturally led to populist outrage.[23] The controversy over bankruptcy-related pay echoed the still-raging public controversy over the high levels of executive pay, which seemed unfair to many observers and was especially salient after the dot-com bust sent the nation into recession.[24]

Second, the bonuses attracted criticism from some commentators who worried that the public nature of the payments and the large amount of media attention that they attracted were undermining public confidence in the bankruptcy process.[25]

Third––and most importantly from the perspective of bankruptcy policy––some observers believed that management was exploiting the basic structure of Chapter 11 to extract undeserved pay.[26] When a firm files for bankruptcy, existing management remains in control of the business, giving managers great influence over the firm and its stakeholders.[27] Management’s control over the bankruptcy process can lead the board of directors and even creditors to seek to pay managers for desired outcomes, such as enticing management to agree to sell the firm.[28] The dislocations created by bankruptcy can also provide management with bargaining power.[29] The board of directors may fear that the departure of a key executive would seriously reduce the prospect of a successful reorganization, creating an opportunity for opportunistic managers to demand more pay than they deserve.[30] This agency problem threatens the basic structure of Chapter 11 bankruptcy, a process in which a firm’s asset value is supposed to be maximized for the benefit of pre-bankruptcy creditors, not the personal wealth of incumbent managers.

Of course, the Bankruptcy Code recognizes the power that management has over a corporation in bankruptcy and thus creates a strong system of checks and balances to counterbalance managerial power.[31] The first line of defense is the federal bankruptcy judge, who must approve any payment of bonuses.[32] Next, bankruptcy law appoints an “[o]fficial [c]ommittee of [u]nsecured [c]reditors” to act as a “watchdog” that scrutinizes management’s business decisions.[33] This committee is generally composed of some of the firm’s major creditors, who stand to receive lower payouts at the end of the bankruptcy case if the firm overpays management.[34] The committee will usually have a high-powered law firm and investment bank assisting them, and they will analyze any proposed bonus plan to determine whether it overpays managers.[35] To the extent that creditors believe management is extracting undeserved pay, they can file written objections informing the judge of the bonus plan’s problems and negotiate in the shadow of those objections and the right to object.[36]

Further, the Department of Justice’s United States Trustee Program provides a second level of governmental oversight that helps the bankruptcy judge assess the motions in front of her.[37] Congress created the United States Trustee Program as a part of the Bankruptcy Act of 1978 to oversee the then-new system of bankruptcy courts.[38] Each district has its own Office of the United States Trustee, which generally consists of several attorneys and other legal professionals.[39] These lawyers supervise all bankruptcy cases, looking for evidence that bankruptcy law is being abused.[40] The United States Trustee has the right to file an objection of its own if it determines that management is using its control of the corporation to extract excessive compensation.[41]

Prior to the 2005 reform, this system of checks and balances lay dormant because bankruptcy law instructed the judge to defer to management in determining if bonuses were needed.[42] Chapter 11 debtors only needed to convince the judge that a proposed retention bonus plan was the product of reasonable business judgment.[43] This was an easy standard to satisfy, and firms would do so by arguing that the employees were important to the successful reorganization of the business[44] and that the board of directors engaged in some sort of deliberative process to develop the plan.[45]

C.  Congress Empowers the Oversight of Managers and Restricts Retention Bonuses with the 2005 Reform

This equilibrium changed when Congress banned retention bonuses as part of the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act of 2005 (the “BAPCPA).[46] Congress sought to “eradicate the notion that executives were entitled to bonuses simply for staying with the Company through the bankruptcy process.”[47] After the reform, bankruptcy judges were only allowed to authorize Chapter 11 debtors to pay “incentive” bonuses, typically through a formal “Key Employee Incentive Plan” (KEIP).[48] In theory, KEIPs tie any bonus payments to the achievement of challenging performance goals, such as improving the firm’s financial performance or attaining a milestone in the bankruptcy process like confirming a plan of reorganization.[49] As a result, bankruptcy judges found themselves with the challenging new task of evaluating proposed bonus plans to determine if they were permissible incentive plans or “disguised retention plans” that did not actually challenge management.[50]

Consider a hypothetical bonus plan that pays an executive if the firm’s revenue increases by 10 percent. Is this an incentive plan or a retention plan? The answer turns on how likely it is for that anticipated revenue increase to occur.[51] An executive who commits to such a plan may very well have private information regarding an imminent sale to a major customer that will yield the 10 percent increase, making the incentive plan a “disguised retention plan” that rewards the manager for remaining employed without requiring extra effort and accomplishment to earn the bonus.[52] On the other hand, in some cases a 10 percent increase in revenue could be highly unlikely and something management can only achieve with extra effort.[53] How can one proposed bonus plan be distinguished from another? In the seminal case interpreting the 2005 reform, Judge Burton I. Lifland of the Southern District of New York declared “if it walks like a duck (KERP) and quacks like a duck (KERP), it’s a duck (KERP).”[54]

Judge Lifland also identified several factors that bankruptcy courts should analyze to determine if a proposed bonus plan creates challenging incentive bonuses or disguised retention bonuses:

Is there a reasonable relationship between the plan proposed and the results to be obtained, i.e., will the key employee stay for as long as it takes for the debtor to reorganize or market its assets, or, in the case of a performance incentive, is the plan calculated to achieve the desired performance?

Is the cost of the plan reasonable in the context of the debtor’s assets, liabilities and earning potential?

Is the scope of the plan fair and reasonable; does it apply to all employees; does it discriminate unfairly?

Is the plan or proposal consistent with industry standards?

What were the due diligence efforts of the debtor in investigating the need for a plan; analyzing which key employees need to be incentivized; what is available; what is generally applicable in a particular industry?

Did the debtor receive independent counsel in performing due diligence and in creating and authorizing the incentive compensation?[55]

To summarize, the 2005 reform is best understood as creating new responsibilities for Chapter 11 debtors, the bankruptcy judges, and the Department of Justice’s United States Trustee Program, while providing new bargaining power for creditors. Prior to the reform, a Chapter 11 debtor could easily obtain a judge’s permission to pay bonuses by demonstrating a plausible business justification.[56] After the reform, Chapter 11 debtors can only pay bonuses if they convince a judge that a proposed bonus plan requires management to demonstrate extra effort and skill. The standard developed in the Dana Corp., and re-articulated above, requires the debtor to present evidence of industry and firm practices to demonstrate the reasonableness of the overall level of compensation, as well as the structure that would trigger the payment of bonuses. In making this case, Chapter 11 debtors typically present the testimony of an independent compensation consultant that helped to develop the incentive plan. The judge then must weigh significantly more evidence and make more findings of fact than was the case prior to the 2005 reform. This new bargaining dynamic empowers creditors, who can investigate a proposed bonus plan, file an objection, and negotiate to change the plan in the shadow of the objection.[57]

II.  Theoretical Problems with the 2005 Reform

This Part describes theoretical flaws that undermine the bankruptcy system’s then-newfound mandate to police executive compensation in bankruptcy. These flaws lead to three testable hypotheses about the reform, which are respectively analyzed using empirical evidence in Section III.B.

As a general rule, laws that leave gaps create incentives for regulatory evasion.[58] The 2005 reform only affects bonuses paid through court-approved bonus plans in Chapter 11. This narrow scope allows firms to simply sidestep the regulation by paying managers prior to filing for bankruptcy or waiting until a Chapter 11 case ends to adjust management’s compensation retroactively. Indeed, the reform likely created financial incentives for firms to engage in evasion, as the additional work that law firms need to do to meet the new standard is costly.

Accordingly, hypothesis one is that firms will respond to the increased costs of proposing a bankruptcy bonus plan by evading the new regulation and paying managers through channels unaffected by the 2005 reform.[59]

Further, the reform places bankruptcy judges in the challenging position of distinguishing permissible incentive plans from forbidden retention plans. To do so, judges must assess ex ante the likelihood that a triggering event will occur. If a performance goal is likely to occur without additional managerial effort, the judge should reject it as a disguised retention plan that rewards management for remaining employed. This is a difficult analysis. The boards of directors and managers that develop bonus plans presumably know their businesses better than the judge, placing the judge at a disadvantage in evaluating a bonus plan. Further, judges are bankruptcy lawyers and lack subject-matter expertise in executive compensation, let alone specific knowledge of the firm’s industry. Moreover, even in a world with perfect information, the judge would still struggle to perform this analysis because the line between retention and incentive plans is very thin. All incentive plans have some retentive element, as employees often remain in jobs to earn promised bonuses.[60]

Therefore, hypothesis two is that bankruptcy judges are unlikely to be able to screen out all but the most obviously disguised retention plans, and the bonus plans that are approved are unlikely to be significantly different in substance than the bonus plans prior to the reform.[61]

The challenges that bankruptcy judges face are exacerbated by the incentives that creditors have to use their bargaining power to police executive compensation.[62] One of the main reasons that executive compensation theorists have long sought to empower investors with a greater voice in determining executive pay is because of the belief that the excess compensation paid to managers reduces the returns to investors.[63] Superficially, this is the case in Chapter 11 as well, as creditors are generally the firm’s residual claimant and thus the losers if the firm overpays management. However, executive bonuses affect such a small amount of value in large Chapter 11 casessingle-digit millions when the firm’s assets can potentially be worth billionsthat we would expect creditors might decline to spend the time and money required to actively police executive compensation.

Further, the bankruptcy judge is unlikely to get much help from the Department of Justice’s U.S. Trustee Program. In theory, the Department of Justice only has incentives to enforce bankruptcy law, and the 2005 reform created a new Congressional policy of policing abuses in executive compensation. In practice, the U.S. Trustee suffers from the same informational asymmetries and expertise deficits that limit a judge’s effectiveness in evaluating a proposed bonus plan. The 2005 reform did not provide extra money to hire compensation experts to help the lawyers in the U.S. Trustee’s office analyze proposed bonus plans.

Accordingly, hypothesis three is that the bankruptcy judges are unlikely to receive much help from creditors and the U.S. Trustee. Creditors have weak incentives, on average, to invest the time and resources required to police executive compensation aggressively. The U.S. Trustee lacks the necessary expertise to perform the role assigned to it by Congress.[64]

III.  Evidence of Design Problems in the 2005 Reform

Part III presents an account of the flaws that undermine the 2005 reform. Section III.A first describe the data gathering methodology and the sample of bankruptcy cases. In Section III.B, evidence from the empirical study tests the hypotheses developed in Part II.

A.  Sample and Data Gathering

To study the reform, I gathered two samples of data: (1) a large sample that represents the population of large companies that filed for Chapter 11 between 2001 and 2012 with traded debt or equity and (2) a smaller case study sample of cases from before and after the statutory change to examine bonus plans (and bankruptcy litigation) in a more comprehensive and detailed way. Both samples are drawn from Next Generation Research’s list of large company bankruptcies from 2001 to 2012.[65] I describe the construction of the large sample and the case study sample in turn.

The large sample consists of all large companies from Next Generation Research’s list of large company bankruptcies from 2001 to 2012 that traded debt or equity. I focus on firms with publicly traded debt or equity because those firms have obligations to file disclosures with the Securities and Exchange Commission (“SEC”), so information on firm compensation practices are available. Nearly all of the largest firms to file for bankruptcy have traded debt or equity, and this larger sample is very close to the population of large companies that restructured their debt in Chapter 11 court proceedings between January 1, 2001 and December 31, 2012.

I identified the firms included in the larger sample through the following procedure.[66] For each of the 1,998 large firms that filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy between 2001 and 2012, I looked for matches in the list of debt or equity issued by large firms that traded in the databases kept by TRACE, MarkIt, and Bloomberg.[67] For example, if I found that a firm filed for bankruptcy on January 3, 2003, I looked for trades in that firm’s debt or equity entered on or after that date. This larger sample consists of 408 cases. For each of the firms in the sample, I collected extensive information about the firm and the bankruptcy case from the court docket and important pleadings. Most importantly, I recorded whether the firm sought judicial approval of a bankruptcy bonus plan and identified which, if any, bonus plans were approved by the bankruptcy judge. For all of these firms, I also examined their securities filings to obtain additional information on how the firm historically compensated its executives.[68]

I collected the case study sample using a similar method. I again began with the list of all firms listed in Next Generation Research’s database of corporate bankruptcies, including those without traded debt or equity.[69] The case study sample comes from two time periods. First, I collected a “before” sample of every large bankruptcy case from Next Generation Research’s list of large corporate bankruptcies that filed between January 1, 2004 and April 20, 2005, the date that BAPCPA was signed into law by President George W. Bush. I begin with January 1, 2004, because older dockets are generally no longer available on the Public Access to Court Electronic Records database (“PACER”). The initial sample consisted of 140 potential Chapter 11 debtors, of which forty-one (approximately 30%) sought judicial approval for a key employee retention or incentive plan. These forty-one Chapter 11 debtors constitute the pre-BAPCPA sample, which I term the “pre-reform” or “pre-2005 reform” sample.

The second case study sample period consists of all firms that filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy between January 1, 2009 and December 31, 2010 that implemented bankruptcy bonus plans. I choose a period four years after the reform because it took several court decisions to settle on a legal standard for adjudicating proposed post-reform incentive plans and lawyers needed time to develop customs to meet that standard.[70] I began with the list of 375 large bankruptcy cases and examined each court docket to look for a proposed bonus plan. The final sample consists of fifty-seven bonus plans filed by debtors that filed for bankruptcy in 2009 and 2010.[71]

I studied each case in the case study sample very closely. In addition to examining the docket and acquiring basic information from court filings, I examined all objections filed by creditors and the United States Trustee to managements’ motions seeking approval of bonus plans. I also compared the bonus plans approved by the court to the original bonus plans to track changes made over the course of the bargaining process. Next, I examined the goals created by the plans and used the date of bankruptcy events, the disclosure statement and subsequent securities disclosures, news stories, and press releases to determine whether management achieved the incentive payout.

Finally, I examined all of the legal bills filed by the debtor’s counsel for the period between the petition date and the bonus plan being approved by the court. When large firms are in Chapter 11 bankruptcy, they ask for (and receive) a court order allowing them to retain a law firm to help them with their bankruptcy.[72] The Chapter 11 debtor then submits its law firm’s legal bills to the court and asks for permission to pay them.[73] The Federal Rules of Bankruptcy Procedure require a detailed statement of the time the attorneys spent on the firm’s legal problems, which in practice translates to the full record of all time charged to the client. I oversaw a team of research assistants that worked together to identify the amount and value of time that law firms spent on bonus plans for both time periods in the case study sample. I provide an illustrative example of this analysis in the Appendix. To my knowledge, this is a new method in the bankruptcy practice literature, and a very labor-intensive one, but it holds significant promise in terms of aiding our understanding of bankruptcy costs.

B.  Assessing Evidence of Design Flaws in the 2005 Reform

The 2005 reform aimed to reduce public outrage over bankruptcy bonuses, force managers to earn their pay, and reduce the overall level of executive compensation. Section III.B uses evidence from the sample to test the hypotheses developed in Part II. In general, I begin with the high-level portrait painted by the larger sample, test for obvious confounding explanations of the findings using regression analysis, and then look closely at the case study sample to reveal a more detailed picture.

1.  Assessing the Effect of the Reform: Evidence of Higher Costs and Regulatory Evasion.

Hypothesis one predicts that the reform will increase the costs associated with bankruptcy bonus plans and lead to regulatory evasion. I begin by assessing the impact of the reform on bankruptcy costs before moving on to the observed frequency of bonus plans and evidence that points to rampant regulatory evasion.

a.  The Effect of the Reform on Bankruptcy Costs

As a threshold matter, by requiring the debtor’s counsel to do extra work to approve a bonus plan, the 2005 reform and Dana Corp. may have increased the costs of bankruptcy.[74] To estimate the size of the increase, I reviewed all of the debtor’s counsel’s bills and identified the time entries corresponding to work on a bankruptcy bonus plan. Pre-reform, the median debtor’s counsel billed $30,484 (mean of $65,198) for work on a bankruptcy bonus plan in constant 2010 U.S. dollars.[75] Post-reform, the median debtor’s counsel billed $86,411 (mean of $140,218) for their work on their debtor’s bonus plans, an increase of 64%. For comparison’s sake, the debtor’s counsel’s bill for the entire bankruptcy case was $5,191,576 in the post-reform sample, as compared to $3,449,969 pre-reform—an increase of 33%. The costs associated with a bankruptcy bonus plan grew twice as fast as the debtor’s counsel’s fees as a whole, suggesting that the new standard significantly increased the amount of legal work the debtor’s attorneys needed to do to comply.[76]

b.  The Effect of the Reform on Bonus Plan Utilization

The observed increase in costs associated with bonus plans is likely to deter other Chapter 11 debtors from implementing them. Sure enough, as Figure 1 shows, relying on the larger sample of the population of Chapter 11 debtors between 2001 and 2012, the percentage of firms filing for bankruptcy that seek a bonus plan falls precipitously after the 2005 reform, going from nearly 60% in 2004 to less than 40% in 2007.

It is difficult to conclude too much by examining the raw proportion of Chapter 11 firms with bonus plans, as the observed change could be a composition effect. For example, 2004 may have featured more firms in industries where bonuses are a larger part of executive compensation than did 2007.[77] I cannot eliminate the possibility that a composition effect drives the shift observed in Figure 1, although it seems unlikely that this would be the whole explanation. I can, however, control for some observable firm characteristics in a regression analysis to test the robustness of the observed post-reform decline in the utilization of bankruptcy bonus plans, specifically by controlling for firm size, industry, and the debtor’s law firm. Table 1 displays those regression results. In Models 1, 2, and 3, I regress a dummy variable for post-2005 reform filing on the likelihood of a bonus plan being proposed, with the second Model adding control variables. In Models 4, 5, and 6, I instead study the likelihood that a bonus plan is approved. In the cases of both proposal and approval, the results are the same: controlling for firm characteristics, firms become less likely to implement bankruptcy bonus plans after the 2005 reform.

c.  The Effect of the Reform on the Overall Level of Executive Compensation

Given that proportionately fewer firms used court-approved bonus plans, it is possible that the overall level of executive compensation was reduced by the reform. To the extent the pre-reform equilibrium was characterized by managerial rent extraction, the reform might have eliminated some opportunistic retention bonus plans that effectively overcompensated managers.

While I am not able to measure overcompensation, I can look for evidence of a change in the level of compensation that managers receive before and after the 2005 reform. I take two approaches to doing so. First, for a subset of the large sample with available data, I calculate the percentage change in CEO compensation in the year prior to bankruptcy and the year the firm filed for bankruptcy.[78] This facilitates comparison of bankruptcy-period compensation to pre-bankruptcyperiod compensation, controlling for the firm’s historic level of compensation.

Second, to make sure that industry changes do not bias the analysis, I adjust each firm’s observed CEO compensation to control for the firm’s industry. For each firm in the sample, I identify the firm’s industry using its three digit SIC code. I then use the ExecuComp dataset to identify S&P 1,500 firms in the same industry as each sample firm to understand how the sample firm’s compensation compared to its industry peers. I then calculated a percentile ranking that reflects how the Chapter 11 debtor compared to its peers in each observed calendar year. So, for example, a firm in the 90th percentile in terms of compensation is a firm that paid their CEO more than 90% of all other firms in the same industry.

As Table 2 shows, I fail to find any statistically significant effect suggesting that the overall level of executive compensation in bankruptcy was altered by the reform. To be sure, my failure to find this relationship does not mean there is not one. This analysis is conducted on a subset of the sample firms highly constrained by data availability, and it is possible that if the analysis included the missing firms the result would be different.[79] There may also be an omitted variable that would uncover an otherwise hidden relationship. However, at the very least, the results suggest that the lower rate of bonus plans might not have changed the overall level of compensation of Chapter 11 executives, relative to pre-bankruptcy compensation and industry trends.

d.  Anecdotal Evidence of Regulatory Evasion

A potential explanation for this result is that firms may simply sidestep court-approved bonus plans to engage in regulatory evasion. I cannot offer comprehensive statistics on how frequently Chapter 11 debtors utilize these strategies, as firms do not necessarily go out of their way to disclose these strategies and are not necessarily required to do so.  I also cannot rule out the possibility that the observed change in bonus plan utilization reflects improved governance of executive compensation. However, I find extensive anecdotal evidence suggesting that many firms are simply paying managers in ways that evade the judicial scrutiny demanded by the reform. There are three main strategies to get around the 2005 reform: (1) adjusting compensation pre-bankruptcy; (2) paying bonuses as part of other bankruptcy court orders that the 2005 reform does not regulate; and (3) waiting until after the firm emerges from bankruptcy to pay bankruptcy related-bonuses. I explain each strategy in turn.

First, the reform does not affect compensation adjustments that firms made before filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, and some firms appear to have taken advantage of this.[80] A Chapter 11 debtor cannot simply pay management a large bonus on the eve of bankruptcy, as doing so might create an avoidable transfer that creditors could recover.[81] However, at least some firms implemented bankruptcy-related bonus plans prior to filing for Chapter 11 that were overt and open attempts to evade the 2005 reform. For example, OTC Holdings, a manufacturer of party supplies and children’s toys, set up a Key Employee Performance Incentive Plan (KEPIP) to “align the interests of OTC’s key employees with the interests of OTC and its creditors” prior to the firm’s bankruptcy petition.[82] This plan was designed to pay bonuses only after the firm emerged from bankruptcy, which, the firm argued, meant that the Bankruptcy Code’s restrictions on executive bonuses would not apply to the incentive plan.[83] Similarly, the board of directors of Regent Communications implemented a “Special Bonus Plan . . . [which] was triggered upon commencement of the Chapter 11 Cases,” suggesting that OTC is, at the very least, not the only firm that engaged in this sort of bankruptcy planning.[84]

Second, some firms simply “bundled” bankruptcy bonus plans with other, more important motions to evade close court monitoring of bankruptcy-related compensation.[85] When large firms file for bankruptcy, they usually also file a variety of intermediate motions while they try to reorganize their businessa motion for a bonus plan is an example of such an intermediate motionbefore filing a proposed plan of reorganization for the approval of the bankruptcy judge. The plan of reorganization is a lengthy document that contains hundreds of provisions that describe how the firm will leave bankruptcy, how it will pay its creditors, and what the post-bankruptcy life of the company will be. Bankruptcy law instructs the judge to evaluate this document under section 1129 of the Bankruptcy Code.[86] The approval of this document will normally end the bankruptcy case and allow the firm to emerge as a restructured company. Adding a retroactive bankruptcy bonus plan into this document is as simple as adding a single line of text.

By “bundling” the executive bonus plan with the larger plan of reorganization, a Chapter 11 debtor can evade the scrutiny that comes when the bonus plan is squarely before the court. This strategy also puts the judge in a difficult position, as it creates a choice between approving the plan of reorganization (with the bundled executive bonus plan) or rejecting the plan, when rejecting the plan might mean forcing the company to remain in bankruptcy with unknown costs for the business and its employees.

As such, it should not be surprising that “bundling” was the most commonly observed regulatory evasion strategy. For example, in the bankruptcy of Journal Register, management abandoned an attempt to obtain judicial approval of a bankruptcy bonus plan after the pension fund objected. But management did not abandon the goal of paying itself for bankruptcy-related performance. Instead, the company bundled a “bankruptcy emergence bonus” into the plan of reorganization, which, it reasoned, was governed by a different part of the Bankruptcy Code than section 503(c).[87] In evaluating this attempt at bundling, the court first noted that the debtors “filed a motion during the cases for approval of the Incentive Plan, but thereafter withdrew that motion and incorporated the Incentive Plan in the Reorganization Plan.[88] However, the court also pointed out that the plan process involved creditor voting and the creditorswhose money was going to the executivessupported the plan.[89] Accordingly, the judge approved the payment of the bonuses.[90]

Finally, a third strategy to evade court monitoring of bankruptcy-related executive compensation is deferring bonuses for bankruptcy-related conduct for the post-bankruptcy board of directors.[91] Once a firm leaves bankruptcy, it is no longer under judicial supervision and can pay its employees however much it wants. As such, boards of directors can sidestep the 2005 reform by promising management a bonus that is never formally contracted for or paid until the firm emerges from bankruptcy.

While post-bankruptcy executive compensation is, by definition, hard to survey in detail, I did observe strange behavior in the bankruptcy of Citadel Broadcastings, a radio station conglomerate that filed for bankruptcy in late 2009.[92] Citadel proposed a plan of reorganization that, like most cases in the sample, included setting aside a percentage of the firm’s post-reorganization equity for managers.[93] This plan of reorganization was hotly contested by hedge fund creditors, who charged that management was undervaluing the firm and going to profit in the form of underpriced post-bankruptcy stock grants.[94] In response to the criticism, the CEO testified in court,I have tried to get stock and each time I was told I am getting options at market value . . . [that] will vest one-third each year on the anniversary from the time I got those options. So they will be actually vest[ed] three years from now.[95]

The company thus dealt with the charge of self-dealing in an elegant way. Instead of an outright stock grant, management received out-of-the-money or market value stock options, which meant that management could not use those stock grants to extract value that should have gone to creditors. After hearing this testimony, the judge confirmed the plan of reorganization.[96]

This testimony appears to have been forgotten shortly after the firm exited bankruptcy. Less than a month after leaving Chapter 11, reorganized Citadel distributed the stock in the form of restricted stock grants that vested on a twoyear schedule.[97] The CEO alone received $55 million, making him the highest paid manager in the history of the radio industry.[98] These stock grants were only publicly disclosed due to Citadel’s obligations as an issuer of public debt. The disclosures caught the ire of the activist investors who had lost in court at the confirmation hearing.[99] They filed a motion seeking to “prevent one of the most egregious frauds by a company emerging from bankruptcy under Chapter 11.”[100] They noted that this conduct was “fraudulent because Citadel representatives, including [the CEO] himself, repeatedly told this Court, under oath, that they were not getting under the Plan the very securities that they gave themselves only weeks later immediately upon emergence [from bankruptcy.]”[101]

The Citadel Broadcasting Corp. case is an outlier, however. I have not come across any other cases with similar facts. However, the 408 firms in the large sample set aside more than $400 million in post-bankruptcy equity for post-bankruptcy management incentive plans. To be sure, most large companies have some sort of equity incentive plan, and it is entirely in the ordinary course for companies to compensate managers with stock. But other research has noted that creditors sometimes persuade managers to support their incentive plan with lucrative post-bankruptcy employment contracts.[102] Thus, it remains an open question how often managers are rewarded after the firm emerges from bankruptcy for conduct that took place during bankruptcy.

2.  Assessing the Limitations of the Bankruptcy Judge

As hypothesis two discussed above,[103] bankruptcy judges suffer from an informational asymmetry and lack of expertise that make it difficult for them to make the determination that the 2005 reform wants them tothat a bonus plan is an “incentive plan” with challenging goals and not a “disguised retention plan.” To assess this hypothesis, I first examine how the structure of bonus plans changed after the reform and then determine whether the post-2005 bonus plans are substantively different than the retention plans that Congress banned.

 

a.  Changes in Bonus Plan Structure

Table 3 summarizes differences in the structure of bonus plans from the case study sample before and after the reform. As Table 3 shows, the reform clearly changed the structure of bankruptcy bonus plans.[104] While bonus plans did not appear to change much in terms of the amount of money set aside for bonuses, the bonus plans after the reform are much more likely to include some sort of operational or financial target that rewards management for meeting specific performance objectives.[105] Bankruptcy-related objectives remain very popular, such as paying management a bonus when the court confirms a plan of reorganization. But in the post-reform era, approximately 20% of the plans with bankruptcy “milestone” bonuses were tied to the specific milestone occurring by a specific date, which makes them more challenging to accomplish.

b.  Do the Post-Reform Bonus Plans Appear to Be Challenging Incentive Plans?

Of course, these changes could very well be superficial. Unfortunately, much like a bankruptcy judge, I cannot directly measure the extent to which these plans created “truly incentivizing goals,” because that would require perfect knowledge of the facts and circumstances at the time the bonus plan was adopted. Whether a revenue goal is challenging, for example, would depend on observing the probability distribution of hitting the revenue goal, which I obviously cannot do.

I can, however, examine theoretical predictions that indirectly capture an aspect of how challenging the bonus plans would have been considered. First, we would expect the post-reform plans to pay managers at a lower rate than the pre-bankruptcy bonus plans, because challenging performance goals are likely to be missed more often than the pre-bankruptcy retention plans that rewarded managers for staying at their desks. Second, theory would predict that, as the risk associated with a bonus increases, so too should the size of the bonus, to compensate management for the increased risk of not hitting the challenging goal. For example, a $100 bonus might be an effective motivating tool if management knows there is a 100% chance of receiving the payment. But if there is only a 10% chance of receiving the payment, management would need a much larger bonus to provide the same motivation to perform.[106] I assess each of these predictions in turn.

First, I analyzed every stated goal from every court-approved bankruptcy bonus plan in the case study sample. I then used information from the court docket and subsequent public information (such as securities filings) to determine whether the bonus plan paid out.[107] As Table 4 shows, the rate of payout appears to be similar across both time periods.[108] This finding at least casts doubt on the view that the post-reform bonus plans are different as a matter of substance, in addition to being procedurally different from the pre-reform plans.[109]

Second, I examine the schedule of payments under the bonus plan to look for evidence that the payouts were increased to compensate management for the increased risk of an incentive plan. After adjusting the proposed maximum payouts for inflation, I find that CEOs received nearly identical bonuses after the reform as they did under the pre-bankruptcy retention bonus plans. Post-2005, firms implementing court-approved bonus plans planned to pay a 30% year-over-year increase in CEO compensation for the first year of bankruptcy, as compared to 29.3% for the firms implementing bonus plans in the sample years before the reform. A caveat to this analysis is that firms may have wanted to implement bonus plans but felt restricted by the bankruptcy judge, so the observed maximum bonus plans might be censored. However, this finding casts doubt on the argument that these “incentive” bonuses are much riskier than the pre-bankruptcy retention plans.

3.  Assessing the Role of Creditors and the U.S. Trustee

Bankruptcy law, of course, understands that the bankruptcy judge cannot ever know as much about a debtor as its management team and relies on creditors and the Department of Justice’s U.S. Trustee Program to police abuses. As hypothesis three predicts, there are two theoretical problems that might constrain the willingness and ability of the creditors and U.S. Trustee to monitor executive compensation. The first is that the creditors lack strong incentives to invest time and money into monitoring relatively small bonus plans, as bonus plans represent only a small percentage of the overall value on the table in a bankruptcy plan. The second is that the U.S. Trustee suffers from a similar expertise deficit as the judge, making it just as hard for the U.S. Trustee to distinguish challenging incentive plans from disguised retention plans. I analyze evidence of the role played by creditors and the U.S. Trustee Program in turn.

a.  The Observed Role of Creditors

In theory, creditors have limited incentives to police executive compensation. While it is true that creditors are generally the residual claimants of the firm, and thus the party that loses if management extracts unearned compensation,[110] their economic incentives are to focus more on the hundreds of millions or billions of dollars that are at stake in large bankruptcy cases, not the relatively small amount of money involved in bonus plans.

To see how creditors actually used their bargaining power, I reviewed all of the objections the official committee of unsecured creditors filed in response to the firm’s motion seeking bonus plan approval; those objections are summarized in Table 5.[111] There are limits to reviewing the objections of the official committee, as doing so does not reveal how creditors may have negotiated in the shadow of their right to object, nor does it capture how creditors might have influenced bonus plans before they were even proposed by the court. Accordingly, caution is needed in interpreting this Section, as it relies on an incomplete record of creditor influence on negotiations. In the Appendix, I present a summary Table, which shows how bonus plans changed between being proposed on the docket and being approved by the court. The Appendix Table suggests, at least on paper, that Chapter 11 debtors are forced to make performance goals more challenging in response to creditor demands.[112]

As Table 5 shows, official committees became much more litigious after the 2005 reform. They filed written objections to 33% of the proposed bonus plans, a 79% increase from the pre-reform sample. Categorizing the objections, the most common legal argumentexpressed in every case in which the official committee objectedwas that the bonus plan was a disguised retention plan, violating the 2005 reform. This observed litigation is obviously only a small part of their influence, as they almost certainly negotiated in the shadow of their right to object and may have influenced many bonus plans in unobserved ways.

However, creditor objections seldom presented particularized criticisms of the proposed bonus plan. Creditors did file objections to the proposed bonus plans alleging that the compensation level exceeded industry standards in 26% of cases (as compared to 9% before the reform), but that was only 40% of the cases for which an objection was filed. More importantly, creditors only offered evidence from an opposing expert in 8% of cases (as compared to 11% prior to the reform). For the five cases where the official committee complained about the bonus plan exceeding industry standards, one offered evidence from other Chapter 11 cases,[113] one simply pointed to the dire climate of the industry,[114] two complained that the numbers were high without supporting evidence of “competitive compensation in the [company’s] industry,”[115] and one asked for management to provide more information.[116] In no objection in the case study sample was the judge provided with concrete numbers that could be used to compare the bonus plan to an industry standard.

The Foamex Int’l, Inc. bankruptcy litigation provides a representative example of a typical official committee objection to a proposed bonus plan. Foamex’s management originally sought approval of a bonus plan that would pay out in the event that the company successfully sold its assets.[117] The committee first complained that the bonus plan motion was filed “within the first few weeks of the case” and while the debtors were attempting to sell the firm on a faster schedule than the committee wanted.[118] The committee then complained that management was likely not only to get the bankruptcy bonuses but also “generous employment agreements” if the planned sale went through.[119] The committee further deemed the bonus plan targets “effortless” and instead demanded that the company link incentive compensation to “the payment of a dividend to general unsecured creditors.”[120] Nowhere in the objection is there any analysis of the underlying compensation plan itself. There are only bald complaints about how the committee disagreed with the idea of rewarding management for a sale and preferred management receive a bonus in the event a plan of reorganization was approved, preferably one paying unsecured creditors a significant recovery.[121]

Other official committee objections in the sample served as a similar opportunity for the official committee to negotiate the plan of reorganization through litigation. The lack of substance in some of these objections suggests that the objection itself is better understood as a chance to express a partisan view about how the Chapter 11 case should proceed. For example, in the bankruptcy case of Trico Marine Servs., Inc., the official committee informed the court that it objected because the committee was at loggerheads with management over how the case would proceed.[122] In the bankruptcy of NEFF Corp., the official committee complained that the Management Incentive Plan incentivized management to approve a plan favored by senior lenders and not “explore alternative plan strategies.”[123] Similarly, in the Hayes Lemmerz bankruptcy, the creditor’s committee complained that bonuses should not be paid for merely confirming a plan quickly for the benefit of the Debtors secured lenders who . . . were involved in the design and approval of the [bonus plan.][124]

b.  The Observed Role of the Department of Justice’s U.S. Trustee Program

Unlike creditors, the Department of Justice’s U.S. Trustee Program only has incentives to enforce bankruptcy policy. The trouble with the U.S. Trustee’s frequent interventions, as described further below, is that the body largely lacks the expertise needed to effectively police executive compensation.

Sure enough, as Table 5 shows, the U.S. Trustee became far more litigious after the reform, objecting to almost half of filed bonus plans, a 300% increase from the pre-reform sample.[125] The U.S. Trustee objection in the Lear Corporation bankruptcy is fairly representative of U.S. Trustee objections in the sample.[126] The Trustee first asserted that the proposed incentive plan is actually a disguised retention plan on the grounds that the milestones are too easy to achieve.[127] To support this claim, the U.S. Trustee pointed out that the major bankruptcy-related milestones have to do with filing a plan of reorganization, which, the U.S. Trustee noted, has already been mostly negotiated by the time the firm filed for bankruptcy.[128] Accordingly, this is not the type of “challenging result ” that “warrant[s] a bonus.”[129] The U.S. Trustee also noted that the responsibility of preparing a plan of reorganization mostly falls on the debtors’ lawyersnot the managersmeaning managers do not deserve a bonus for work done by their lawyers.[130] The Trustee then noted that the financial targets for part of the bonus payment were not disclosed, and therefore, may be too easy. Therefore, the Trustee demanded that management produce more evidence to satisfy its burden of proof.[131]

This sort of conclusory analysis characterizes many other U.S. Trustee objections in the sample. In one case, the U.S. Trustee condemned a bonus plan linked to asset sales by declaring that the plan simply require[s] the employees to do their jobs” and was not “tied to any specified sales activity or task.”[132] In another case, the U.S. Trustee objected that a bonus plan linked to an asset sale paid managers “based on the first dollar of proceeds” and was thus insufficiently incentivizing.[133] In another example, the U.S. Trustee pointed out that a different sale incentive plan would create rewards “determined in large part by complicated macroeconomic, market and industry-specific forces” and that management’s contribution to the effort would be minimal, calling the incentivizing nature of the plan into question.[134]

Another noteworthy change in the U.S. Trustee’s litigation activity after the 2005 reform is that the written objections became visibly more alike, with similar allegations and complaints about the bonus plans. I can quantify this using a cosinesimilarity analysis. At a high level, a cosinesimilarity analysis measures the textual similarity between two documentsit can be used to detect whether, for example, documents are based on a single template.[135] To quantify the similarity between the written objections before and after the 2005 reform, I calculated the cosine similarity score of every filed objection with every other written objection and took a mean for each case. I then took the mean for the U.S. Trustee for all objections filed in each period of the case study sample. Prior to the 2005 amendment, the mean cosine similarity score for each objection in the dataset filed by the U.S. Trustee was 0.68. After the change, the mean cosine similarity score was 0.87, a roughly 28% increase. If nothing else, this analysis suggests that the written objections became much more generic and much less individualized after the change, which also required the various U.S. Trustee’s offices to file many more objections than they had in the past.

One possibility is that the U.S. Trustee’s vigorous, yet-generic, litigation after the reform reflects a policy of objecting to bonus plans under political pressure from Congress, and there is some public evidence of that pressure. On February 7, 2012, Senator Charles Grassley, the ranking member of the United States Senate Judiciary Committee, wrote the U.S. Trustee to ask for information on how that office’s role in policing bankruptcy bonus plans was going after the 2005 reforms.[136] The Trustee responded that

[t]he United States Trustee Program (USTP) of the Justice Department vigorously seeks to enforce the [2005 amendments restricting bankruptcy bonus plans.] . . . Although all parties in interest in a chapter 11 case have standing to object to [bankruptcy bonus plans], the USTP often is the only party in a case to do so. . . . [A]necdotal evidence suggests that the USTP’s section 503(c) litigation success rate before the bankruptcy courts is lower than its success rate for any other litigation on which the USTP maintains data.[137]

IV.  The Case for RETHINKING the 2005 Reform

This Article’s account of the 2005 reform suggests that various institutional limitations and incentive problems have undermined the ability of the bankruptcy system to achieve the policy goals that prompted the reform. The main challenge in designing a further legal change that solves the issues previously identified is that many of the problems are structural. Bankruptcy judges are not suddenly going to become experts in executive compensation, and the incentives of creditors will continue to lead them to focus on larger bankruptcy issues, rather than the relatively small amounts of money at stake in discussing executive compensation. The Department of Justice’s U.S. Trustee Program will continue to litigate aggressively, but the underlying problems of informational asymmetry and an expertise deficit will limit their ability to help the bankruptcy judge’s deliberation.

Moreover, this Article suggests that the reform may very well have had significant negative consequences for bankruptcy practice. By driving at least some executive compensation underground, the reform may have decreased, on average, the public’s view into the black box of executive compensation of Chapter 11 debtors. The reform may have increased bankruptcy costs and redistributed value from creditors to lawyers. The reform has put very real pressure on the bankruptcy judge and Department of Justice to conduct inquiries that they are poorly situated to perform, a difficult situation exacerbated by the continuing public interest in executive compensation of Chapter 11 debtors.

Of course, in a cost-benefit analysis, these flaws must be analyzed in light of the potential benefits of the 2005 reform, and the analysis above identified two potential benefits. First, it is possible that some firms that might have implemented opportunistic and unnecessary bonus plans are choosing not to do so in light of the more challenging legal path to obtaining approval of such plans. Second, it is possible that the reform may have improved public confidence in our bankruptcy system. After all, court consideration of executive bonus plans continues to invite public and press scrutiny.[138] To the extent the reform pushed boards of directors to engage in regulatory evasion to avoid the public spectacle of a hearing on executive compensation, the reform may have helped the bankruptcy courts avoid adverse headlines. While it is possible that the reform provided some benefit by forcing the development of compensation contracts that lead managers to perform better, the evidence supporting this view is difficult to assess and nothing in this study suggests that this is the case on average. However, this Article cannot dismiss the possibility that the structure of executive compensation was indeed improved by the 2005 reform. 

In light of the evidence presented in this Article, Congress and bankruptcy judges should re-think the 2005 reform. Two changes seem particularly worthwhile. First, Congress should consider providing the Department of Justice (“DOJ”) with funding to hire their own executive compensation experts who can assist with policing executive compensation. Bonuses for senior managers are an important part of modern corporate governance, and reflexive objections without detailed analysis to all proposed bonus plans are unlikely to improve the administration of bankruptcy law. The current situation would be improved if the DOJ had access to greater expertise, whether through new employees or money to hire consultants. 

Second, Congress (or bankruptcy judges) should consider creating  new post-bankruptcy reporting requirements to force post-bankruptcy Chapter 11 debtors to report their overall level of senior management compensation for a period of two years after bankruptcy. This will not solve all of the problems described above, but it would curtail the ability of managers to extract promises from creditors in bankruptcy that lead to excess compensation once the firm leaves bankruptcy court. Very few Chapter 11 debtors emerge from bankruptcy as public companies these days, which creates a regulatory blind spot that might be aided through additional disclosure that discourages the worst abuses, such as the example of Citadel Broadcasting.

Conclusion

This Article’s account of the 2005 reform is one of the most detailed analyses of an executive compensation regulation in the scholarly literature to date. As the results above show, the reform clearly appears to have reduced the usage of bankruptcy bonus plans and forced firms to style their bonus plans as “incentive plans.” However, the incentive plans that are approved create similarly sized bonuses to the retention plans approved before the reform, which suggests that the risk associated with the probability of bonus payment might not have been materially increased. This may be why incentive bonus plans after the reform appear to result in pay-outs just as often as the pre-reform retention plans did. I also do not find evidence that the reform altered the overall level of compensation of the CEOs of Chapter 11 debtors. At the same time, the evidence suggests that the reform may have made the process of formulating a bonus plan more expensive than it had been prior to the enactment of a more demanding legal standard.

While the new statutory scheme does appear to have succeeded in giving new bargaining power to creditors, they do not, at the least, appear to use this bargaining power to inform the judge of substantive problems with the underlying bonus plan. They appear, instead, to use their right to object mostly to pursue their partisan bankruptcy interests of influencing the overall plan of reorganization. This conclusion is qualified because I do not observe the work they might do outside of court negotiating the terms of the bonus plan––work which is clearly ongoing. But it is hard to say based on the evidence that creditors are using their new governance power to make executives more accountable, implement true pay-for-performance, or reduce the overall level of compensation, as Congress intended. Indeed, more than ten years after its implementation, the putative benefits of the reform are hard to identify.

 

Appendix: Methodology FOR Analyzing Bankruptcy Costs

A team of research assistants, acting under my supervision, reviewed all of the legal bills filed by the debtor’s attorneys for every Chapter 11 bankruptcy in the case study sample. For each case, the research assistants began with the first fee request and reviewed all of the bills until the time period including the day that the first bankruptcy bonus plan (in the pre-reform period, usually key employee retention plans, and in the post-reform era, key employee incentive plans (KEIP)) was approved by the court. The review team stopped reviewing time entries after the day the KEIP was approved.

A representative example from the post-reform 2009 bankruptcy case of Foamex International, filed by the debtor’s counsel Akin Gump, includes the following entries:

  1. 03/26/09 SLN 0018 Review asset purchase agreement for Tax issues. 0.6
  2. 03/01/09 AQ 0019 Emails re KEIP. 0.2
  3. 03/01/09 PMA 0019 Review and respond to email re KEIP motion (.1). 0.1
  4. 03/02/09 ISD 0019 O/C AQ re: KEIP. 0.7
  5. 03/03/09 RJR 0019 Telephone conference w/1. Rosenblatt re Asset Purchase Agreement and relevant labor issues. 0.3[139]

Time entries #1 and #5 have nothing to do with the key employee incentive plan (or at least were not written down by the attorney to reflect that they do), so those time entries were discarded by the research assistant. Time entries #3, #4, and #5 reflect work on the incentive plan. The research assistant recorded all of the time each attorney spent on the KEIP, multiplied those numbers by the court approved attorney’s billing rate, and tabulated the amount the debtor’s attorneys charged for work on the bankruptcy bonus plan. The research assistant also obtained the debtor’s final fee applications to record the total amount billed for the bankruptcy case to understand what percentage of the overall bankruptcy costs (at least the portion owed to the debtor’s main attorney) was devoted to bankruptcy bonus plan matters, before and after the reform.

The total review constituted more than 103,781 pages of attorney time entries and cover notes from 792 fee applications. 

Appendix Table 1 displays ordinary least squared regression with robust standard errors in parenthesis. Industry Fixed Effects are Fama-French 12. Debtor Counsel Bonus Plan Fees” are the logged total fees in constant 2010 dollars associated with negotiating, writing, and obtaining the approval of a bonus plan.Debtor Counsel Bonus Plan Hours” are the logged total hours in constant 2010 dollars associated with negotiating, writing, and obtaining the approval of a bonus plan. “Debtor Counsel Bonus Plan Fees as a Percentage of Total Case Fees” are the percentage of the debtor’s overall bill that are associated with the bonus plan. Appendix Table 2 summarizes the observed changes in bonus plans from the version first filed with the court to the version approved by the judge. For example, financial targets are raised in 22% of the post-2005 reform bonus plans between the original filing on the court docket and the judge’s approval order. Bankruptcy milestones are event dates in the bankruptcy process, such as the day a plan of reorganization is approved. In 10.5% of cases, the deadlines tied to those goals were lengthened, such as giving management 180 days to obtain approval of an order selling substantially all of the firm’s assets instead of 120 days.

 

 

 

 


[*] *.. Visiting Associate Professor of Law, Boston University School of Law; Associate Professor of Law, University of California, Hastings College of the Law. I appreciate helpful comments from Afra Afsharipour, Jordan Barry, Abe Cable, John Crawford, Ben Depoorter, Scott Dodson, Michael Klausner, Emily Murphy, Shu-Yei Oei, Elizabeth Pollman, Diane Ring, Natalya Schnitser, Fred Tung, David Walker, and faculty workshops at the University of California, Davis, Boston College, and Boston University.

 [1]. See Gretchen Morgenson, MARKET WATCH; A Year’s Debacles, From Comic to Epic, N.Y. Times (Dec. 30, 2003), https://www.nytimes.com/2003/12/28/business/market-watch-a-year-s-debacles
-from-comic-to-epic.html (condemning American Airlines for negotiating wage concessions from its unionized workers while rewarding top executives with retention bonuses and setting aside $40 million to protect the pensions of executives); see also David Olive, Many CEOs Richly Rewarded for Failure; They Didn’t Suffer as Stocks Tanked in New Economy, Toronto Star, Aug. 25, 2002, at A10.

 [2]. These bonus plans were very controversial because the payment of bonuses in bankruptcy is a public event, leading to press coverage. See Bloomberg News, Bankruptcy Court Approves FAO Executive Pay Plan, N.Y. Times (Feb. 15, 2003), https://www.nytimes.com/2003/02/15/business
/company-news-bankruptcy-court-approves-fao-executive-pay-plan.html (noting an approved FAO Inc. executive-retention plan paying $1.1 million in bonuses); see also Seth Schiesel, Revised Contract for WorldCom’s New Chief Executive Wins Approval from 2 Judges, N.Y. Times (Dec. 17, 2002), https://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/17/business/revised-contract-for-worldcom-s-new-chief-executive-wins-approval-from-2-judges.html (detailing the executive compensation plan for the CEO of WorldCom, which was approved during the company’s bankruptcy); Rhonda L. Rundle, FPA’s CEO Received Salary Increase Five Days Before Chapter 11 Filing, Wall St. J. (Aug. 3, 1998), https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB902097584655373000. Senator Charles Grassley, Republican of Iowa, summarized the populist argument against bankruptcy bonuses in a 2012 letter demanding that the Department of Justice police them more vigorously: “Corporate directors, executives and managers who were at the helm of a company as it spiraled into bankruptcy should not receive bonuses of any kind, let alone excessive bonuses, during a reorganization or liquidation.” Mike Spector & Tom McGinty, U.S. Is Asked to Review Bankruptcy Bonuses, Wall St. J. (Feb. 13, 2012), https://www.wsj.com
/articles/SB10001424052970204642604577218033661586936.

 [3]. See, e.g., Kristine Henry, Beth Bonus Called Good Way to Keep Salaried Steel Talent, Balt. Sun (Jan. 6, 2002), https://www.baltimoresun.com/news/bs-xpm-2002-01-06-0201050169-story.html (detailing executive retention plans paid out in high-profile Chapter 11 bankruptcy cases); Nelson D. Schwartz, Greed-Mart Attention, Kmart Investors. The Company May Be Bankrupt, but Its Top Brass Have Been Raking It In, Fortune (Oct. 14, 2002), http://archive.fortune.com/magazines
/fortune/fortune_archive/2002/10/14/330017/index.htm. Many bankruptcy lawyers at the time were also upset by this behavior, fearing that managers were abusing Chapter 11 to extract excessive compensation at the expense of public confidence in the bankruptcy system. See generally Robert J. Keach, The Case Against KERPS, 041003 Am. Bankr. Inst. 9 (2003) (discussing issues with key employee retention plans (“KERPS”) at the American Bankruptcy Institute’s 2003 Annual Spring Meeting).

       [4].       See In re U.S. Airways, Inc., 329 B.R. 793, 797 (Bankr. E.D. Va. 2005) (“Congressional concern over KERP excesses is clearly reflected in changes to the Bankruptcy Code that will become effective for cases filed after October 17, 2005.”); see also Dorothy Hubbard Cornwell, To Catch a KERP: Devising a More Effective Regulation than §503(c), 25 Emory Bankr. Dev. J. 485, 486–87 (2009) (discussing the amendments to the Bankruptcy Code); Rebecca Revich, The KERP Revolution, 81 Am. Bankr. L.J. 87, 88–92 (2007) (explaining how Congress restricted the ability of Chapter 11 debtors to “retain management employees under programs generally referred to as Key Employee Retention Plans (KERPs)”). In support of the ban, Senator Edward Kennedy delivered a memorable floor statement condemning “glaring abuses of the bankruptcy system by the executives of giant companies.” In re Dana Corp., 358 B.R. 567, 575 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2006) (noting statement of Senator Kennedy in support of the amendments and discussing the legislative history of the amendments to section 503 of the Bankruptcy Code). It is worth noting that beyond the arguments over the propriety of paying bankruptcy bonuses, some observers questioned their efficacy, noting, for example, that after Kmart implemented a KERP plan, nineteen of the twenty-five covered executives left within six months and that Enron’s KERP failed to staunch the outflow of talented employees. Keach, supra note 3.

 [5]. The executive compensation restrictions were a very minor piece of a much larger reform, as part of a bill called the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act of 2005 (“BAPCPA”), Pub. L. No. 109-8, 119 Stat. 23 (2005) (codified as amended in scattered titles of the U.S. Code). While this paper is the first to study the executive compensation restrictions in this degree of detail, many other papers study other aspects of this reform. See generally, e.g., Kenneth Ayotte, Leases and Executory Contracts in Chapter 11, 12 J. Empirical Legal Stud. 637 (2015); Pamela Foohey et al., Life in the Sweatbox, 94 Notre Dame L. Rev. 219 (2018); Robert M. Lawless et al., Did Bankruptcy Reform Fail? An Empirical Study of Consumer Debtors, 82 Am. Bankr. L.J. 349 (2008); Michael Simkovic, The Effect of BAPCPA on Credit Card Industry Profits and Prices, 83 Am. Bankr. L.J. 1 (2009).

 [6]. For example, a Chapter 11 bonus plan might require management to increase earnings or move through Chapter 11 quickly. See infra notes 46 and 57 and accompanying text.

 [7]. Bankruptcy lawyers largely share this skeptical view of the efficacy of the reform. See, e.g., Eric Morath, Bankruptcy Beat: ABI Poll Casts Doubt on Bonus Reforms, Wall St. J. (Oct. 21, 2009), https://blogs.wsj.com/bankruptcy/2009/10/21/abi-poll-casts-doubt-on-bonus-reforms (reporting survey results that a majority of respondents agree that the reform was not effective in limiting executive compensation). These poll results are consistent with other anecdotal evidence in the popular media. See, e.g., Nathan Koppel & Paul Davies, Bankruptcy-Law Overhaul Has Wiggle Room; Limits Set on Key Executives’ Pay, but Door Is Wide Open on Bonuses Linked to Achieving Certain Goals, Wall St. J., https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB114342447370208718 (last updated Mar. 27, 2006) (“[B]ankruptcy lawyers say companies have managed to sidestep some of the law’s provisions.”). Lee R. Bogdanoff, a founding partner of the law firm Klee, Tuchin, Bogdanoff & Stern LLP in Los Angeles, was quoted by Bloomberg News as saying that “[t]he amendment to the code changed the means, but not the value of these plans . . . It’s just changed the way you get there, not necessarily how much management gets at the end.” Steven Church, Buffets Rewards Managers Who Put Chain in Bankruptcy, Bloomberg News (Apr. 5, 2012), http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2012-04-05/buffets-rewards-managers-who-put-chain-in-bankruptcy. A former Department of Justice official charged with supervising the bankruptcy system argues, “Congress took a stab at righting the problem and companies quickly found a way to circumvent their intent.” Mike Spector & Tom McGinty, The CEO Bankruptcy Bonus, Wall St. J. (Jan. 27, 2012), https://www.wsj.com/articles
/SB10001424053111903703604576584480750545602. A contemporaneous working paper provides suggestive evidence that at least some firms contracted around the reform. See Vedran Capkun & Evren Ors, When the Congress Says “PIP Your KERP”: Performance Incentive Plans, Key Employee Retention Plans, and Chapter 11 Bankruptcy Resolution (Feb. 15, 2009) (unpublished manuscript), https://people.hec.edu/ors/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2018/02/PIP_your_KERP_20140104.pdf (“By trying to suppress KERPs, which were deemed to be ‘self-dealing’ plans proposed by unscrupulous managers, BAPCPA appears to have led to ‘structural arbitrage.’”).

 [8]. See infra Section III.B.1.c.

 [9]. See infra Section III.B.2.b. The fact that bonuses created by the post-2005 incentive bonus plans are similarly sized to the pre-reform retention plans casts doubt on the notion that these bonuses came with the additional risk that would come from truly challenging performance goals.  Michael C. Jensen & Kevin J. Murphy, CEO IncentivesIt’s Not How Much You Pay, but How, Harv. Bus. Rev., May–June 1990, at 138 (outlining the difficulty of adequately linking executive pay to compensation while simultaneously not appearing to overpay executives).

 [10]. See Sreedhar T. Bharath et al., The Changing Nature of Chapter 11 at 12–14 (Fisher Coll. of Bus., Paper No. 2008-03-003, 2010), http://ssrn.com/abstract=1102366.

 [11]. See, e.g., Motion of Debtor and Debtor in Possession Pursuant to 11 U.S.C. §§ 105, 507(a)(3), 507(a)(4) and the “Doctrine of Necessity” for an Order Authorizing It to Pay: (A) Prepetition Emp. Wages, Salaries and Related Items; (B) Prepetition Emp. Bus. Expenses; (C) Prepetition Contributions to and Benefits Under Emp. Benefit Plans; (D) Prepetition Emp. Payroll Deductions and Withholdings; and (E) All Costs and Expenses Incident to the Foregoing Payments and Contributions Filed by Debtor-in-Possession Bush Indus., Inc. at 13, In re Bush Indus., 315 B.R. 292 (Bankr. W.D.N.Y. 2004) (No. 04-12295).

 [12]. In re Allied Holdings, Inc., 337 B.R. 716, 721 (Bankr. N.D. Ga. 2005) (“KERP programs such as the one the Debtors seek approval to implement have become customary uses of estate funds in large business reorganizations.”); see also David A. Skeel, Jr., Creditors’ Ball: The “New” New Corporate Governance in Chapter 11, 152 U. Pa. L. Rev. 917, 926–28 (2003) (discussing innovations in executive compensation and the evolution of bankruptcy bonuses); Mechele A. Dickerson, Approving Employee Retention and Severance Programs: Judicial Discretion Run Amuck, 11 Am. Bankr. Inst. L. Rev. 93, 96–97 (2003) (discussing the prevalence of retention bonuses offered in Chapter 11 cases); James H. M. Sprayregen et al., First Things FirstA Primer on How to Obtain Appropriate “First Day” Relief in Chapter 11 Cases, 11 J. Bankr. L. & Prac. 275, 299 (2002) (suggesting Chapter 11 debtors consider bonus plans as part of bankruptcy planning). A contemporaneous press account suggests that bonuses became a common feature because many of the formerly high-flying tech firms had high bankruptcy costs associated with a prolonged stay in Chapter 11 that would leave little value for creditors in the event creditors were forced to hire new managers. In effect, the inability of Chapter 11 to preserve the going concern value of telecom firms provided managers with the power to extract holdout value in exchange for remaining at their desks. One investment banker was quoted as saying that sophisticated activist bondholders budgeted for bankruptcy bonuses when they made their investments in the firm’s debt. Ann Davis, Want Some Extra Cash? File for Chapter 11, Wall St. J., Oct. 31, 2001, at C1 (discussing the rise in popularity of Chapter 11 bonuses and the changing views among creditors). By keeping them at their desks with retention payments, creditors retain value in the firm that would otherwise be lost if they were to quit. Yair Listkoin criticizes retention payments for not being more closely related to positive bankruptcy outcomes. Yair Listokin, Paying for Performance in Bankruptcy: Why CEOs Should Be Compensated with Debt, 155 U. Pa. L. Rev. 777, 790 (2007) (summarizing arguments against “pay to stay” compensation). Robert Rasmussen makes an argument that Congress erred by eliminating retention bonuses because they usefully provided creditors—the new owners—with a real option regarding the debtor’s workers. That is to say, by retaining employees long enough to evaluate them, retention bonuses serve the useful purpose of allowing creditors or new managers to decide who to keep. See Robert K. Rasmussen, On the Scope of Managerial Discretion in Chapter 11, 156 U. Pa. L. Rev. PENNumbra 77, 80–85 (2007).

 [13]. Sandra E. Mayerson & Chirstalette Hoey, Employee Issues from Pre-Petition Severance to Post-Petition Defaulted Pension Plans; and Standards for Permitting Senior Management Bonuses, 092002 Am. Bankr. Inst. 409 (2002).

 [14]. See, e.g., In re Aerovox, Inc., 269 B.R. 74, 76 (Bankr. D. Mass. 2001).

The Debtor summarized the incentives it designed as follows: 1) to keep the eligible employees, including the Key Employees, in the Debtors employ; 2) to compensate the eligible employees, including the Key Employees, for assuming “additional administrative and operational burdens imposed on the Debtor by its Chapter 11 case;” and 3) to allow the eligible employees, including the Key Employees, to use “their best efforts to ensure the maximization of estate assets for the benefits of creditors.”

Id. (internal citations omitted).

 [15]. Id. at 79.

Moreover, in the Board’s view, replacing the Key Employees would cause the Debtor to incur significant costs. Mr. Horsley testified that the process of replacing any one of the Key Employees could cost up to one years’ salary in order to cover the cost of a headhunter and other recruitment expenses. He added that, even if the Debtor were to find qualified replacements, it would not be able to quickly get these new employees “up to speed.” This cost-benefit analysis weighed heavily into the Board’s ultimate decision.

Id.

 [16]. See id.

 [17]. In the face of intense criticism, firms began to change their compensation practices to try to align pay with performance. See, e.g., Jensen & Murphy, supra note 9.

 [18]. See Brian J. Hall & Jeffrey B. Liebman, Are CEOs Really Paid Like Bureaucrats?, 113 Q.J. Econ. 653, 661–63 (1998) (finding that most of the pay increase for chief executive officers between 1980 and 1994 was in the form of stock options, which increased the percentage of a firm’s total compensation package weighted towards performance compensation).

 [19]. See Kevin J. Murphy, Executive Compensation, in 3B Handbook of Labor Economics 2485, 2491 (Orley Ashenfeller & David Card eds., 1999) (“[M]ost executive pay packages contain four basic components: a base salary, an annual bonus tied to accounting performance, stock options, and longterm incentive plans (including restricted stock plans and multi-year accounting-based performance plans).”). Stock compensation includes both outright grants of stock as well as restricted stock and stock options.

 [20]. The compensation consulting firm Equilar reported that in 2013, 63.8% of S&P 1500 companies used some form of performance-based equity compensation, 82.8% used short-term cash incentives, 15% had a discretionary cash bonus, and 8.3% had a long-term incentive plan tied to multiyear performance goals. Equilar, CEO Pay Strategies Report 4–5 (2014), https://www2.deloitte.com/content/dam/Deloitte/us/Documents/regulatory/us-aers-ceo-pay-strategies-report-2014-equilar-july-2014-020915.pdf. While Equilar does not aggregate these numbers, it is fair to assume that virtually all large firms use bonus compensation. The pre-bankruptcy use of stock compensation can be in and of itself sufficient to require a new compensation policy, as Chapter 11 usually ends with pre-bankruptcy shareholders receiving no recovery. See generally Notice of Filing of Amended Disclosure Statement for Debtors’ Amended Joint Plan of Reorganization Pursuant to Chapter 11 of the Bankr. Code, In re Hawker Beechcraft, Inc., 486 B.R. 264 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2013) (No. 12-11873) [hereinafter Hawker Beechcraft Disclosure].

 [21]. See Hall & Liebman, supra note 18. Firms have two alternatives to adjusting compensation policy in bankruptcy, but they are unattractive, for different reasons. One option is to adjust management’s compensation pre-bankruptcy by giving them large base salaries, which effectively reweights their compensation away from bonus and towards base. Doing so creates important risks for a firm, as news of bonus payments can disrupt negotiations with creditors and create liability for the executive who might find the payment clawed back as a fraudulent conveyance. Alternatively, the firm can avoid adjusting compensation until after bankruptcy, which creates the risk that managers might leave the firm rather than wait for an uncertain payment. See James Sprayregen et al., Recent Lessons on Management Compensation at Various Stages of the Chapter 11 Process, Financier Worldwide (Mar. 2013), https://www.financierworldwide.com/recent-lessons-on-management-compensation-at-various-stages-of-the-chapter-11-process/#.XEZb6S3Myu4.

 [22]. See, e.g., Mitchell A. Seider et al., Two Recent Decisions Highlight Pitfalls in Creating and Implementing Key Employee Incentive Plans for Executives in Bankruptcy Cases, Latham & Watkins: Client Alert (Sept. 24, 2012), https://www.lw.com/thoughtLeadership/employee-incentive
-plans-executives-bankruptcy (“[I]t may be difficult to replicate . . . employees’ pre-petition compensation during the Chapter 11 case because a significant part of their compensation may have been in the form of stock options (which are likely worthless in light of the bankruptcy proceedings) and performance bonuses based on metrics that are no longer achievable. Furthermore, these employees may seriously consider other employment opportunities that do not involve the risks inherent in working for a company in Chapter 11.”); Notice of (1) Filing of the Solicitation Version of the Amended Disclosure Statement for the Debtors’ Solicitation Version of the Amended Joint Plan of Reorganization Pursuant to Chapter 11 of the Bankruptcy Code and (2) Deadline for Parties to Object Thereto, In re Hawker Beechcraft, Inc., 486 B.R. 264 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2013) (No. 12-11873) (“[C]urrent compensation levels for each of the KERP Participants are below market levels largely because no MIP or Equity Investment Plan bonuses have been paid in recent years and also due to a decrease in earned commissions. The Debtors believe the KERP will aid the Debtors’ retention of the KERP Participants and will incentivize them to expend the additional efforts and time necessary to maximize the value of the Debtors’ assets.”).

 [23]. See, e.g., Nancy Rivera Brooks, Enron Execs Were Paid to Remain, L.A. Times (Dec. 7, 2001), http://articles.latimes.com/2001/dec/07/business/fi-12293.

 [24]. See, e.g., Henry, supra note 3 (detailing executive retention plans paid out in high-profile Chapter 11 bankruptcy cases).

 [25]. At the 2003 Annual Spring Conference of the American Bankruptcy Institute, a lawyer arguing against allowing KERPs worried very much that the failure to curb bankruptcy bonus abuse (in the form of the Key Employee Retention Plans that had become a routine part of bankruptcy practice) would result in congressional intervention. See Critical Vendor Motions, Retention Bonuses Headed for Endangered List, 39 Bankr. Ct. Decisions: Wkly. News & Comment 1 (Aug. 13, 2002); see also Keach, supra note 3.

 [26]. See M. Todd Henderson, Paying CEOs in Bankruptcy: Executive Compensation When Agency Costs Are Low, 101 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1543, 1543–44, 1570 (2007) (“According to [academic accounts of bankruptcy], the Bankruptcy Code’s preference for management operation of the debtor allows managers to extract rents in the form of higher salaries, big option grants, and lavish retention and emergence bonuses.”); Lynn M. LoPucki & William C. Whitford, Corporate Governance in the Bankruptcy Reorganization of Large, Publicly Held Companies, 141 U. Pa. L. Rev. 669, 740 (1993) (“In the course of our study, we became suspicious that some CEOs were using leverage generated from the power vested in the debtor-in-possession by the Bankruptcy Code to negotiate increases in their personal compensation.”); Lucien Ayre Bebchuk & Howard F. Chang, Bargaining and the Division of Value in Corporate Reorganization, 8 J.L. Econ. & Org. 253, 267 n.14 (1992) (“In reality, the incumbent management controls the agenda during this initial period [of Chapter 11 Bankruptcy].”).

 [27]. Alan Schwartz, A Contract Theory Approach to Business Bankruptcy, 107 Yale L.J. 1807, 1836 (1998) (noting Chapter 11 is preferable to Chapter 7 for current management, in terms of ability to manipulate the process for personal gain); see also Henderson, supra note 26, at 1574 (noting a potential factor favoring management in Chapter 11 is “the possibility that creditors will tolerate inefficient or unfair compensation to curry favor with CEOs, since the debtor has the exclusive right to propose a reorganization plan”); LoPucki & Whitford, supra note 26, at 692 (“[M]anagement of the debtor corporation routinely remains in office after [the bankruptcy] filing and has considerable power over both the business plan and the reorganization plan.”).

 [28]. One student researcher interviewed legendary bankruptcy attorney Harvey Miller in 2005 and reported:

Eventually, according to Miller, the negotiations come to point where the controlling distressed investors tell the CEO, “if you want to be CEO of the company, don’t fight

usbecause if you fight and we win, you’re dead.” According to Miller, some management teams will eventually give in, often after the distressed investors have agreed to provide them with post-emergence employment contracts.

Paul M. Goldschmid, Note, More Phoenix Than Vulture: The Case for Distressed Investor Presence in the Bankruptcy Reorganization Process, 2005 Colum. Bus. L. Rev. 191, 266–67 (2005).

 [29].   See Henderson, supra note 26, at 1575–76 (2007) (“Thus, given the firm’s poor performance, whether or not it can be deemed to be the CEO’s fault, the firm should be able to pay the CEO less, but the costs of the next best alternative are so much higher that the CEO is actually in a stronger negotiating position.”).

 [30]. See LoPucki & Whitford, supra note 26, at 742 (“[I]n some reorganization cases management derives considerable power from their incumbency.”).

 [31]. See id. at 694–720 (describing the checks on management).

 [32]. In re Salant Corp., 176 B.R. 131, 132 (S.D.N.Y. 1994) (“The Bankruptcy Court approved the bonus to [the CEO] at the confirmation hearing . . . .”); see also In re Velo Holdings Inc., 472 B.R. 201, 204 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2012) (approving KERP during bankruptcy case).

 [33]. See, e.g., In re W. Pac. Airlines, Inc., 219 B.R. 575, 578 (D. Colo. 1998) (“[A] creditors committee serves something of a ‘watchdog’ function in bankruptcy and enjoys unique rights and responsibilities under the Code.”).

 [34]. Wei Jiang et al., Hedge Funds and Chapter 11, 67 J. Fin. 513, 527 n.10 (2012).

 [35]. See generally Jared A. Ellias, Do Activist Investors Constrain Managerial Moral Hazard in Chapter 11?: Evidence from Junior Activist Investing, 8 J. Legal Analysis 493 (2016) (finding activist investors actually reduce self-dealing and promote the goals of bankruptcy); Michelle M. Harner & Jamie Marincic, Committee Capture? An Empirical Analysis of the Role of Creditors’ Committees in Business Reorganizations, 64 Vand. L. Rev. 749 (2011) (providing data on the impact of creditors on bankruptcy proceedings).

 [36]. See Ellias, supra note 35, at 495 (“In Chapter 11, managers must obtain judicial approval for all major business decisions . . . [creditors] may inform the judge that management is abusing Chapter 11 and file motions seeking judicial relief.”).

 [37]. See Charles Jordan Tabb, The History of the Bankruptcy Laws in the United States, 3 Am. Bankr. Inst. L. Rev. 5, 35 (1995). (“In 1986 the United States Trustee system was established nationwide . . . . An attempt was made to relieve bankruptcy judges of administrative duties, thereby permitting them to focus more exclusively on their judicial role.”).

 [38]. See id.

 [39]. About the Program: The United States Trustee Program, U.S. Dep’t Just., https://www.justice.gov/ust/about-program (last updated Mar. 6, 2019).

       [40].     Id.

 [41]. See Objection of the U.S. Trustee to Debtors’ Motion Pursuant to Section 363(b) of the Bankr. Code for Authorization to Implement a Key Emp. Incentive Plan at 9, In re BearingPoint, Inc., 453 B.R. 486 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2011) (No. 09-10691) [hereinafter BearingPoint Objection].

The Motion is not supported by any indication that the costs of the KEIP are reasonable under the circumstances. To the contrary, the currently-prevailing view here appears to be that such proceeds will be insufficient to generate a recovery for unsecured creditors. Also, there is no basis on which to conclude that the $7.0 million cost of the Debtors’ revised bonus plan is reasonable . . . .

Id.

 [42]. That’s not to say that judges did not sometimes reject bonus plans. Levitz Judge Rejects Bankruptcy Bonus, Limits Severance Package, 2 Andrews Bankr. Litig. Rep. 7 (2005) (discussing Judge Burton Lifland’s rejection of a proposed retention bonus in the Levitz Homes bankruptcy when the company had mostly outsourced operation of its business to consultants).

 [43]. See In re Montgomery Ward Holding Corp., 242 B.R. 147, 155 (D. Del. 1999) (noting the discretion the bankruptcy court has to defer to management’s business judgment in approving bankruptcy bonus plans). Bankruptcy courts approved executive bonuses upon a showing by the debtor that: (i) the debtor used proper business judgment in creating the plan, and (ii) the plan is “fair and reasonable.” Emily Watson Harring, Walking and Talking like a KERP: Implications of BAPCPA Section 503(c) for Effective Leadership at Troubled Companies, 2008 U. Ill. L. Rev. 1285, 1293 (2008); see also George W. Kuney, Hijacking Chapter 11, 21 Emory Bankr. Dev. J. 19, 78–80 (2004) (summarizing the standard in pre-BAPCA cases). Kuney notes that this standard was either considered overly permissive or unnecessarily restrictive, depending on the particular biases of the critic. Id. at 80; accord Cornwell, supra note 4, at 493–94 (summarizing the pre-BAPCA standard).

 [44]. In re Brooklyn Hosp. Ctr., 341 B.R. 405, 409 (Bankr. E.D.N.Y. 2006); see also In re Aerovox, Inc., 269 B.R. 74, 79 (Bankr. D. Mass. 2001) (discussing the importance of the employees to the turnaround effort).

 [45]. See Brooklyn Hosp. Ctr., 341 B.R. at 412 (discussing the deliberations of the Board); see also In re Georgetown Steel Co., 306 B.R. 549, 554 (Bankr. D.S.C. 2004) (“The CEO described the deliberations of the Board of Directors with respect to the Retention Motion as well as the processes utilized to arrive at the final amount of the Retention Plan.”); Aerovox, 269 B.R. at 81–82 (“[T]he Board utilized sound business judgment in evaluating the need for and financial implications of the KERP. . . . [T]he Board met five times before approving the original KERP.”); Dickerson, supra note 12, at 97–103.

 [46]. See Paul R. Hage, Key Employee Retention Plans under BAPCPA? Is There Anything Left?, 17 J. Bankr. L. & Prac. 1, 15 (2008) (“[S]ection 503(c) prohibits payments to an insider ‘for the purpose of inducing such person to remain with the debtor’s business.’”). The BAPCPA mostly affected consumer bankruptcy, and the reform studied in this Article was one of the handful of provisions that altered business bankruptcy in a significant way.

 [47]. In re Global Home Prods., L.L.C., 369 B.R. 778, 783–84 (Bankr. D. Del. 2007) (quoting Karen Lee Turner & Ronald S. Gellert, Dana Hits a Roadblock: Why Post-BAPCPA Laws May Impose Stricter KERP Standards, 3 Bankr. Litig. Rep. 2, 2 (2006)); see also Edward E. Neiger, Bankruptcy Courts Continue to Approve Performance-Based Bonuses for Executives of Companies in Chapter 11, 3 Pratt’s J. Bankr. L. 356, 357 (2007).

 [48]. See 11 U.S.C. § 503 (2018); In re Dana Corp., 358 B.R. 567, 575–78 (summarizing the changes to the Bankruptcy Code); Skeel, supra note 12, at 928 (describing KEIPs). In sample cases, it is very clear that––in at least some instances­––the KEIP was designed more with a view to what the court would approve than what actually needed to provide incentive compensation to senior executives. For example, in the bankruptcy of Nortel, the debtor’s compensation consultant examined other recent KEIPs and provided its senior managers with a maximum number of how much money could be distributed in bonuses and how many people could be paid, and this was used to generate an incentive plan. See Declaration of John Dempsey in Support Debtors’ Motion for an Order Seeking Approval of Key Emp. Retention Plan and Key Exec. Incentive Plan, and Certain Other Related Relief at 5, In re Nortel Networks Inc., 426 B.R. 84 (Bankr. D. Del. Feb. 27, 2009) (No. 09-10138) [hereinafter Dempsey Declaration].

In determining the appropriate number of employees eligible, maximum program cost, and the size of awards to be granted, I reviewed Key Employee Incentive Plans that had been approved by bankruptcy courts in a number of recent chapter 11 cases. The companies for which these plans were approved reflect entities both inside and outside the technology sector as well as companies facing multi-jurisdictional issues, including SemGroup LLP, Quebecor World, Delphi Corporation, Dura Automotive, and Calpine Corporation.

Id. In Dempsey’s defense, Nortel was a large firm and the compared firms, albeit engaged in entirely different lines of business and headquartered in different cities, were also large firms. Nonetheless, the selection of compared firms is curious. In terms of the number of managers, he testified, “I advised Nortel management to select participants that would result in a population of employees totaling approximately 5% of the aggregate Nortel population, as this amount was well within the range of competitive market practice.” Id.

 [49]. See Skeel, supra note 12, at 928 (“[C]reditors have insisted in recent cases that the managers’ compensation be tied to the company’s progress under Chapter 11. The most straightforward strategy for rewarding managers who handle the case expeditiously is to base their compensation, at least in part, on the speed of the reorganization.”).

 [50]. See Hage, supra note 46, at 22–27 (discussing the early decisions); see also Revich, supra note 4, at 94.

 [51]. See In re Velo Holdings Inc., 472 B.R. 201, 211 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2012) (analyzing a proposed KEIP plan to insure the targets are “difficult to achieve”).

 [52]. See LoPucki & Whitford, supra note 26, at 694 (“Management also gains considerable power by being better informed than other interested parties.”).

 [53]. Of course, in some cases a 10% revenue increase can result from changed market conditions or political developments that improve the firm’s prospects with no increased effort from managers.

 [54]. In re Dana Corp., 351 B.R. 96, 102 n.3 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2006).

 [55]. In re Dana Corp, 358 B.R. 567, 576–77 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2006) (emphasis in original) (internal citations omitted).

 [56]. See Revich, supra note 4, at 116.

 [57]. See Bharath et al., supra note 10, at 24 (suggesting the use of KERPs contribute to more equitable Chapter 11 outcomes, as measured by the frequency of Absolute Priority Deviations).

 [58]. See, e.g., Victor Fleischer, Regulatory Arbitrage, 89 Tex. L. Rev. 227, 278–80 (2010).

 [59]. For evidence supporting this hypothesis surveyed, see generally infra Section III.B.1.

 [60]. See Margaret Howard, The Law of Unintended Consequences, 31 S. Ill. U. L.J. 451, 456 (2007); Allison K. Verderber Herriott, Toward an Understanding of the Dialectical Tensions Inherent in CEO and Key Employee Retention Plans During Bankruptcy, 98 Nw. U. L. Rev. 579, 615 (2004); Revich, supra note 4, at 112 (considering Judge Lifland’s decision in In re Dana Corp., which noted permissible incentive plans may have retentive effects).

 [61]. For evidence supporting this hypothesis surveyed, see infra Section III.B.2.

 [62]. Economic theory has long held that people respond to incentives. E.g., Gary S. Becker, Irrational Behavior and Economic Theory, 70 J. Pol. Econ. 1, 9 (1962).

 [63]. Karen Dillon, The Coming Battle over Executive Pay, Harv. Bus. Rev. (2009), https://hbr.org/2009/09/the-coming-battle-over-executive-pay.

 [64]. For evidence supporting this hypothesis surveyed, see infra Section III.B.3.

 [65]. See generally Data & Research, Bankr. Data, http://bankruptcydata.com/p/data-research (last visited Apr. 8, 2019). Next Generation Research’s Bankruptcy Data service is a commonly used data source for empirical bankruptcy studies. Accord, e.g., Kenneth M. Ayotte & Edward R. Morrison, Creditor Control and Conflict in Chapter 11, 1 J. Legal Analysis 511, 517 (2009).

 [66]. A portion of this larger sample was used previously in Jared A. Ellias, What Drives Bankruptcy Forum Shopping? Evidence from Market Data, 47 J. Legal Stud. 119, 124–26 (2018). I provide greater detail regarding construction of the larger sample. While this Article shares basic information on bankruptcy cases with that larger dataset, the data on executive compensation presented here were collected specifically for this project and are unique and new.

 [67]. “TRACE” is a complete record of all buying and selling of corporate bonds, with transaction-level data on all trades during the sample period. It is the standard source for bond data in empirical finance literature. “MarkIt” is a data provider that compiles trading in corporate loans. Bloomberg maintains records in trading of both listed and over-the-counter equity. I do not report results using TRACE, MarkIt, or Bloomberg data in this Article.

 [68]. Firms generally disclose executive compensation as part of their annual report or proxy statements for their annual meeting. See Fast Answers: Executive Compensation, U.S. Sec. & Exchange Comm’n, https://www.sec.gov/fast-answers/answers-execomphtm.html (last visited Apr. 8, 2019) (“The easiest place to look up information on executive pay is probably the annual proxy statement. Annual reports on Form 10-K and registration statements might simply refer you to the information in the annual proxy statement, rather than presenting the information directly.”).

 [69]. This means that the case study sample is drawn from a slightly broader universe than the larger sample, which is restricted to public firms with traded claims. I do not believe this introduces bias into the analysis, and it avoids any bias that could result from looking only at public firms. The results presented below are the same if I restrict the case study sample to the universe of firms with traded claims.

 [70]. In re Dana Corp, 358 B.R. 567, 576–77 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2006) (emphasis in original). (internal citations omitted); see also supra note 55 and accompanying text.

 [71]. One possible complaint about my methodology is that the 2009 and 2010 “post-reform” sample includes the bankruptcy cases that resulted from the financial crisis. The broad conclusions from the study come from the larger sample. The case study sample is used mostly to illustrate problems with the reform, provide institutional detail, and estimate the increase in costs, which should not be affected by the financial crisis and its aftermath.

 [72]. 11 U.S.C. § 327 (2018).

 [73]. See First Verified Monthly Application of Alston & Bird LLP as Counsel for the Debtors and Debtors-in-Possession for Allowance of Compensation and Reimbursement of Expenses Incurred for the Interim Period June 22, 2009 through July 31, 2009 at 2, In re Sea Launch Company, No. 09-12153 (Bankr. D. Del. Aug. 25, 2009); see also Fed. R. Bankr. P. 2016(a) (providing for the compensation of services provided to the debtor by professionals).

 [74]. Others have speculated that the new, post-reform statutory regime requires more attorney time and expense. See Jonathan C. Lipson, Where’s the Beef? A Few Words About Paying for Performance in Bankruptcy, 156 U. Pa. L. Rev. 64, 68 (2007).

 [75]. All of the nominal dollar amounts in the bills were adjusted to 2010 dollars using the Consumer Price Index.

 [76]. In Appendix Table 1, I use regression analysis to try to verify that the observed fee increase is not due to a difference in observable firm characteristics between the population of pre-reform Chapter 11 debtors and post-reform Chapter 11 debtors. The results suggest that, controlling for firm financial characteristics and industry, the 2005 bankruptcy reform is associated with a 118% increase in the debtor’s fees for time spent on bonus plans, a 102% increase in attorney’s hours devoted to the bonus plan, and a 110% increase in the percentage of the total bill for the case devoted to matters related to the bankruptcy bonus plan.

 [77]. Some firms may be more likely to enact bonus plans if, for example, a large part of their pre-bankruptcy compensation was in the form of stock that is unlikely to be worth anything after bankruptcy. Thus, it is possible that a composition effect drives the effect in Figure 1, if the cohort of Chapter 11 debtors pre-reform were firms that used more stock compensation than the cohort that came afterwards. I addressed the question of pre-bankruptcy compensation practices further in supra Part I.

 [78]. For example, if a firm’s CEO was paid $100 in the year before bankruptcy and $120 in the year the firm filed for bankruptcy, the test statistic is ($120-$100)/$100, or 12%.

 [79]. The firms in Table 2 all had historic and bankruptcy-year compensation data publicly available, either in securities filings or in the bankruptcy court documents that I reviewed to assemble the sample. It is possible that the missing firms are non-randomly selected, so the results in this Section should be interpreted cautiously. In general, firms tend to avoid disclosing executive compensation numbers if they can, viewing it as a trade secret, so the firms in Table 2 tend to skew towards the largest firms.

 [80]. From the large sample, both OTC Holdings and Regent Communications engaged in this type of planning. I studied both cases closely for my article, Do Activist Investors Constrain Managerial Moral Hazard In Chapter 11?: Evidence from Junior Activist Investing, supra note 35. Stumbling upon themand their thoughtful and successful attempts to use bankruptcy planning to evade court reviewinspired this project.

 [81]. One law firm that represents many large debtors in bankruptcy expressly warned its clients against this strategy, saying that it risked upsetting negotiations with creditors and created fraudulent conveyance risk. Sprayregen et al., supra note 21. Anecdotal evidence suggests that this practice is both common and continuing to this day. See Andrew Scurria, Takata Insiders Took in Millions Before Bankruptcy, Wall St. J. Pro: Bankr. (Aug. 10, 2017), https://www.wsj.com/articles/takata-insiders-took-in-millions-before-bankruptcy-1502405497.

 [82]. Disclosure Statement Under 11 U.S.C. § 1125 in Support of the Debtors’ Third Amended Joint Plan of Reorganization at 26–27, In re OTC Holdings Corp., No. 10-12636 (Bankr. D. Del. Nov. 2, 2010), ECF No. 263.

 [83]. See id.

 [84]. First Amended Disclosure Statement for the First Amended Joint Plan of Reorganization for Regent Commc’ns Corp., et al. at 24, In re Regent Commc’ns, Inc., No. 10-10632 (Bankr. D. Del. Mar. 22, 2010), ECF No. 128. A third non-case study sample, the 2009–2010 Chapter 11 of CCS Medical, involved similar bankruptcy planning and similarly allowed management to be paid bankruptcy-related bonuses without a judge finding that the plan satisfied the revised statute. See Transcript of Hearing re Debtors’ Motion for Order (a) Approving Bidding Procedures in Connection with Mktg. and Proposed Sale of Substantially All of the Debtors’ Assets, and (b) Granting Related Relief at 37–38, In re CCS Medical, Inc., No. 09-12390 (Bankr. D. Del. Nov. 23, 2009), ECF No. 673.

 [85]. Importantly, I only count bankruptcy bonuses that are bundled with the plan of reorganization and pay cash consideration as part of the analysis in this paragraph.

 [86]. See 11 U.S.C. § 1129 (2018).

 [87]. See In re Journal Register Co., 407 B.R. 520, 527, 537 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009) (noting the court agreed that the confirmation of a plan is governed by section 1129, not section 503(c), of the Bankruptcy Code).

       [88].     Id. at 535.

 [89]. Id. at 528, 537.

 [90]. Id. at 538. In collecting data for Ellias, supra note 35, I observed other firms engage in similar behavior without first seeking court approval of a bonus plan. For example, Caraustar Industries paid management 50% of its 2009 incentive compensation on the effective date of the plan of reorganization. See Disclosure Statement for Debtors’ Joint Plan of Reorganization at 40, In re Caraustar Indus., Inc., No. 09-73830 (Bankr. N.D. Ga. May 31, 2009), ECF No. 21. Orleans Homebuilders paid $2.3 million in bonuses to forty senior managers as part of its plan of reorganization. See Debtor’s Second Amended Joint Plan of Reorganization at 44, In re Orleans Homebuilders, Inc., 561 B.R. 46 (Bankr. D. Del. 2010) (No. 10-10684). Other firms paying large bonuses as part of the planpresumably for performance during the bankruptcy casethat filed for bankruptcy in 2009 and 2010 include: Lyondell Chemical Company ($27.75 million); Reader’s Digest Association ($12.9 million); Visteon Corporation ($8.1 million for twelve managers); Mesa Air Group; Inc. ($5.5 million); Six Flags, Inc. ($5.025 million for seven managers); Innkeepers USA Trust ($4.5 million); Almatis B.V. ($4.3 million); Tronox Incorporated ($3 million for four managers); Cooper-Standard Holdings, Inc. ($2.49 million for thirteen managers); Orleans Homebuilders, Inc. ($2.38 million for forty managers); NTK Holdings, Inc. (Nortek, Inc.) ($2 million); FairPoint Communications, Inc. ($1.8 million); Journal Register Company ($1.7 million); Affiliated Media, Inc. ($1.6 million for fifty employees); Centaur, L.L.C. ($1.5 million for three managers); Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company, Inc. ($1.48 million for 146 managers); Panolam Industries International, Inc. ($1 million); EnviroSolutions Holdings, Inc. ($1 million); Pliant Corporation ($0.87 million for one manager), International Aluminum Corporation ($0.65 million); Newark Group, Inc. ($0.5 million); Oriental Trading Company, Inc. ($0.45 million for fourteen managers); Neff Corp. ($0.35 million for two managers); and Regent Communications, Inc. ($0.31 million).

 [91]. Congress has long recognized the need for public disclosure of post-bankruptcy compensation and retention of bankruptcy insiders. See, e.g., 11 U.S.C. § 1129(a)(5)(B) (2018) (requiring disclosure of the identity of insiders who will be employed or retained by the debtor as well as their compensation).

 [92]. See Voluntary Petition (Chapter 11), In re Citadel Broadcasting Corp., No. 09-17442 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Dec. 20, 2009).

 [93]. Objection of Virtus Capital LLC and Kenneth S. Grossman Pension Plan to the Disclosure Statement for the Joint Plan of Reorganization of Citadel Broadcasting Corp. and Its Debtor Affiliates Pursuant to Chapter 11 of the Bankr. Code at 4–5, In re Citadel Broadcasting Corp., No. 09-17442 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Mar. 5, 2010), ECF No. 172. Post-bankruptcy equity incentive plans are largely outside the scope of this study because of data constraints. While I often observe firms setting aside post-reorganization equity for a management incentive plan as part of the plan of reorganization, I do not systematically observe the post-bankruptcy payouts. Citadel is an outlier case because it involved management misrepresenting the post-bankruptcy incentive plan to the court, with creditors learning about it and seeking some sort of remedy. The vast majority of Chapter 11 debtors do not become publicly traded immediately after bankruptcy; accordingly, there is little disclosure of post-bankruptcy equity compensation. The value of post-bankruptcy equity compensation is substantial and dwarfs all observed bankruptcy bonus plans (for the 2009 and 2010 sample, the aggregate amount of value in all of the bonus plans in the case study sample is $70 million; those same firms set aside approximately $387 million in aggregate management post-bankruptcy equity incentive plans). However, without information on post-bankruptcy distributions and understanding how equity was allocated across the employee base, it is impossible to determine how much of this equity actually flowed to management and how much may have flowed to management as a form of compensation for performance while the firm was in Chapter 11.

 [94]. See id.

 [95]. Reply of R2 Investments, LDC in Support of Motion Pursuant to 11 U.S.C. §§ 1142 and 105(a) to Direct Reorganized Debtors to Comply with Plan ¶ 5, In re Citadel Broadcasting Corp., No. 09-17442 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Oct. 29, 2010), ECF No. 507.009), ECF No. 1476. 17, 2009), ECF No. 1476.docket, so I couldn’.D.N.Y.  scienter
take appointment? approving such array, the c1

 [96]. Motion Pursuant to 11 USC §§ 1142 and 105(a) to Direct Reorganized Debtors to Comply with Plan at 2, In re Citadel Broadcasting Corp, No. 09-17442 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Oct. 6, 2010), ECF No. 498.

 [97]. Id. at 3.

       [98].     Id. at 2.

 [99]. See id. 1–5.

 [100]. Id. at 1.

 [101]. Id. at 2.

 [102]. Goldschmid, supra note 28, at 266–67.

 [103]. See supra Part II.

 [104]. An important limitation of the data is that in many cases, bonus plans were either incomplete when filed with the court or filed under seal. Accordingly, Table 3 reports the information that was publicly available both from bankruptcy court filings and from contemporaneous or post-bankruptcy SEC filings that filled in gaps from the court filings.

 [105]. This is consistent with anecdotal reports of practitioners. For example, a prominent creditor’s attorney told Bloomberg that “the amendment to the code changed the means, but not the value of these plans . . . [i]t’s just changed the way you get there, not necessarily how much management gets at the end.” Church, supra note 7.

 [106]. In expectation, the expected value of $100 in the future that will be received with 100% certainty is $100 ($100*100%). If management only has a 10% chance of receiving the bonus, in expectation that bonus is worth $10 ($100*10%). Thus, the board would need to propose a bonus plan that paid $1000 as part of a challenging incentive plan with a 10% ex ante probability of payout (because $1000*10% = $100) to provide the same level of motivation as a guaranteed retention bonus of $100.

 [107]. For example, if a bonus plan was tied to confirming a plan of reorganization by a certain date, we examined whether the bonus plan was approved by that date or if there was a subsequent extension.

 [108]. The exception is a higher observed rate of payout for firms with whole firm sale targets and payouts for emerging from bankruptcy. This likely reflects changes in bankruptcy practice, as it became more common for firms to go into Chapter 11 and conduct going-concern sales. See, e.g., Douglas G. Baird & Robert K. Rasmussen, The End of Bankruptcy, 55 Stan. L. Rev. 751, 751, 786–88 (2002) (discussing the rise in the use of Chapter 11 as a platform for the sale of a firm’s assets, often as a whole firm going-concern sale).

 [109]. This finding deserves two qualifications. As Table 4 shows, there is enough missing data to potentially bias the result. Additionally, bonus plans often have “tiers” of goals (as where, for example, a 10% revenue increase might yield $100 and a 15% revenue increase might yield $200), and I do not systematically examine enough information to determine which payout tier was reached in enough cases to report results.

 [110]. For example, if management would have worked for $100, but extracts extra rents of $50 for total compensation of $150, the extra $50 is money that could have otherwise been paid (in some form or another) to unsecured creditors in the event they are not being paid in full.

 [111]. In some cases, creditors file their own objections, either because they are secured creditors who are not represented by any official committee or because they want to act on their own, apart from the committee, for strategic reasons. I also summarize the litigation of these creditors as part of Table 4. The qualitative trends I discuss in this Section, while focusing on the official committee, are the same as the trends observed by unsecured creditors acting on their own.

 [112]. It is difficult to evaluate this because managers may simply propose an unreasonable bonus plan before moving the plan to what they know creditors will accept after negotiations and litigation. It is hard to know if management actually “moved” or simply went to where they always planned to be.

 [113]. Objection of the Official Comm. of Unsecured Creditors to the Motion of the Debtors and Debtors in Possession for Entry of an Order Approving a Key Employ. Incentive Plan at 8, In re Midway Games, Inc., No. 09-10465 (Bankr. D. Del. Mar. 27, 2009), ECF No. 203.

 [114]. Objection of the Official Comm. Of Unsecured Creditors to Debtor’s Motion for Order Approving the Implementation of Key Emp. Incentive Plan and Short Term Incentive Plan at 2, In re Hayes Lemmerz Int’l, Inc., No. 09-11655 (Bankr. D. Del. Aug. 14, 2009), ECF No. 460 [hereinafter Hayes Lemmerz Objection].

 [115]. Objection of the Official Comm. Of Unsecured Creditors to Debtor’s Motion for Order Authorizing Use of Cash Collateral for Payments Regarding HVM LLC Incentive Program at 28, In re Extended Stay Inc., No. 09-13764 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Oct. 26, 2009), ECF No. 530; Objection of Official Comm. Of Unsecured Creditors to Motion of the Debtors for an Order Authorizing the Debtors to Continue Their Short-Term Incentive Plan at 12–13, In re Merisant Worldwide, Inc., No. 09-10059 (Bankr. D. Del. Mar. 20, 2009), ECF No. 211.

 [116]. Objection of the Official Comm. Of Unsecured Creditors to: (A) Debtors’ Motion for an Order Authorizing the Debtors to Implement Severance and Non-Insider Retention Programs; and (B) Debtors’ Motion for an Order Authorizing the Implementation of the Visteon Incentive Program at

8–10, In re Visteon Corp., No. 09-11786 (Bankr. D. Del. Jul. 13, 2009), ECF No. 528.

 [117]. Objection of the Official Comm. of Unsecured Creditors to Debtors’ Motion for Order Authorizing Debtors to Adopt and Implement an Incentive Plan for Certain Key Employ. Pursuant to Sections 363(b)(1), 503(c)(3), and 105(a) of the Bankr. Code at 13, In re Foamex Int’l, Inc., 368 B.R. 383 (Bankr. D. Del. 2007) (No. 09-10560).

 [118]. Id. at 1–2.

 [119]. Id. at 2.

 [120]. Id. at 2–4.

     [121].     See id. at 2–5.

 [122]. Official Comm. Of Unsecured Creditors’ Objection to Debtors’ Motions to Shorten Notice Relating to Their (I) Motion for Approval of Exec. Comp. and Emp. Incentive Plan for Non-Debtor OpCo Subsidiaries and (II) Motion to File Related Exhibits Under Seal at 2–3, In re Trico Marine Servs., Inc., 450 B.R. 474 (Bankr. D. Del. 2011) (No. 10-12653).

 [123]. Debtors’ Reply to the Objection of the Official Comm. of Unsecured Creditors to Motion of the Debtors for Entry of an Order Approving the Debtors’ Key Employee Incentive Plan at 2, In re NEFF Co., No. 10-12610 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Jun. 28, 2010), ECF No. 199. In response, the debtors moved the “emergence incentive award” to the plan of reorganization. Id. at 3; see also supra note 90 and accompanying text.

 [124]. Hayes Lemmerz Objection, supra note 114, at 3.

 [125]. In one case, the Debtor complained that the U.S. Trustee’s objection “appears to be based on a form and ignores the evidence [the debtor] submitted.” Tronox’s Response to the Objection of the U.S. Tr. to Tronox’s Motion for Entry of an Order Approving Tronox’s Key Emp. Incentive Plan at 2, In re Tronox, Inc., 503 B.R. 239 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009) (No. 09-10156).

 [126]. See generally Objection of the U.S. Tr. to Debtor’s Motion for Order Approving Debtors’ Key Mgmt. Incentive Plan, In re Lear Corp., No. 09-14326 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. Jul. 20, 2009), ECF No. 161.

 [127]. Id. at 1–2, 6.

 [128]. See id. at 7.

 [129]. Id.

 [130]. Id.

 [131]. See id.

 [132]. U.S. Tr.’s Objection to Debtors’ Motion for Entry of an Order Authorizing Incentive Payments to Debtors Employees at 3, In re Noble Int’l Ltd., No. 09-51720 (Bankr. E.D. Mich. Apr. 22, 2009), ECF No. 60.

 [133]. U.S. Tr.’s Objection to the Debtors Motion for Entry of an Order Approving the Debtor’s Incentive Plan and Authorizing Payments Thereunder Pursuant to §§ 363(b) and 503(b) at 2, In re Vermillion, Inc., No. 09 -11091 (Bankr. D. Del. May 6, 2009), ECF No. 42.

 [134]. BearingPoint Objection, supra note 41, at 7.

 [135]. See Kan Nishida, Demystifying Text Analytics Part 3 — Finding Similar Documents with Cosine Similarity Algorithim, Medium: Learn Data Science (June 23, 2016), https://blog.exploratory
.io/demystifying-text-analytics-finding-similar-documents-with-cosine-similarity-e7b9e5b8e515.

 [136]. See Letter from Assistant Attorney Gen. Ronald Weich, to U.S. Senator Charles E. Grassley 1 (Mar. 5, 2012), http://online.wsj.com/public/resources/documents/Letter031312.pdf.

 [137]. Id. at 2.

 [138]. See Jonathan Randles, Westmoreland Paid Millions in Executive Bonuses in Year Before Bankruptcy, Wall St. J. (Nov. 9, 2018), https://www.wsj.com/articles/westmoreland-paid-millions-in-executive-bonuses-in-year-before-bankruptcy-1541804141.

 [139]. See Second Monthly Application of Akin Gump Strauss Hauer & Feld LLP, Co-Counsel for Debtors and Debtors in Possession, for Interim Allowance of Compensation and for the Reimbursement of Expenses for Services Rendered During the Period from March 1, 2009 through March 31, 2009, Ex. B at 14, In re Foamex International Inc., No. 09-10560 (Bankr. D. Del. May 11, 2009), ECF No. 390.

 

Patently Unjust: Tribal Sovereign Immunity at the U.S. Patent Office – Note by Christopher B. Phillips

From Volume 92, Number 3 (March 2019)
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Patently unjust:
Tribal Sovereign Immunity at the U.S. Patent Office

Christopher B. Phillips[*]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. Sovereign Immunity

A. Tribal Sovereign Immunity

1. Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma v. Manufacturing
Technologies, Inc.

2. Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Community

3. Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren

B. State Sovereign Immunity

1. Florida Prepaid Postsecondary Education Expense
Board v. College Savings Bank

2. The Eleventh Amendment in Administrative Proceedings:
State-Owned Patents and PTAB IPR Rulings

C. Sovereign Immunity’s Purposes

1. Tribal Sovereign Immunity’s Justifications

2. State Sovereign Immunity’s Justifications

II. Reasons for the Allergan-Saint Regis Deal

A. Are These Good Deals for Participants?

B. Are Such Deals a Good Thing?

III. Decisions in the Allergan-Saint Regis IPR

A. Patent Trial and Appeal Board 2018 Decision

1. PTAB Does Not Apply Tribal Sovereign Immunity in IPRs

2. Issues with the PTAB Decision

B. The Federal Circuit Decision to Not Apply Tribal
Sovereign Immunity in an IPR Proceeding

IV. TRIBAL SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY’S UNEQUAL STATUS
WITH STATE SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY

A. The Inconsistency

1. This Inconsistency Matters and Should Be Fixed

2. Addressing the Inconsistency

CONCLUSION

Introduction

The Indian Commerce Clause of the United States Constitution grants Congress plenary power to regulate Native American tribes.[1] In the absence of congressional action, a “dual sovereign” structure exists whereby the tribes are allowed—subject to constraints imposed by Congress—to exist and regulate their own affairs independently of the states and the Federal Government.[2] As a benefit of sovereignty, tribes possess sovereign immunity—an immunity similar to the immunity granted to states under the Eleventh Amendment.[3] Sovereign immunity as a doctrine is based in the common law and allows the sovereign to avoid being sued without its consent.[4] Tribal sovereign immunity, unlike state sovereign immunity,[5] is subject to congressional abrogation, meaning Congress can decide the circumstances whereby tribes are subject to suit without their consent.[6]

In September 2017, Allergan Pharmaceuticals (“Allergan”) made news when, in the middle of a challenge to its Restasis[7] patent’s validity in Inter Partes Review (“IPR”), it assigned its patent rights in the drug to upstate New York’s Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe (“Saint Regis”).[8] After receiving the patent rights, Saint Regis quickly licensed the Restasis patent back to Allergan for an immediate payment of $13.75 million, coupled with an additional $15 million per year in royalties.[9] Because the transaction gave Saint Regis ownership of the patent, the tribe became the patent’s defender in the IPR proceeding. The tribe moved to have the IPR terminated, asserting their immunity from suit under the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity.

An IPR is an adversarial post-grant proceeding located in the United States Patent and Trademark Office (“USPTO”); it is overseen by a panel of Administrative Patent Judges.[10] Third parties utilize this forum to challenge the validity of patents that they believe were improperly granted.[11]

The deal between Allergan and Saint Regis ignited a public relations firestorm. Critics allege that Allergan acted in bad faith. They claim Allergan “rented” Saint Regis’s sovereign immunity to gain an improper protection from IPRs.[12] Former Senator Claire McCaskill of Missouri sponsored legislation to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity by eliminating it as an IPR defense.[13] In response to criticism, Allergan and other defenders of the deal, tried to shift public focus from the deal to an IPR system that they allege inadequately protects patent owners.[14]

The deal’s critics countered by arguing that IPRs are essential to the intellectual property system because IPRs provide a forum in which disputes over patents are resolved in a quick, cost-effective manner by experts in the field.[15] The alternative to IPRs is litigation in federal district court, which can be costly. In addition, IPRs are overseen by patent law experts, while district court litigation is in front of a judge who may have no familiarity with the complexities of patent law. Moreover, IPRs provide a final check on the USPTO’s grant of a patent by reviewing the granting decision; thus, it can be viewed as a last-chance mechanism by which the USPTO can ensure it has properly granted a patent. Thus, the proceeding’s purpose is to prevent unpatentable material from gaining patent protection which can harm the patent owner’s competitors and hinder further innovation.[16]

On the other hand, the deal has upsides.[17] The tribe received much-needed funds, leading attorneys for the tribe to advocate similar deals as a solution for Saint Regis, other tribes, and state universities in need of revenue.[18] Additionally, some proponents of stronger patent rights condemn IPR proceedings as patent “death squad[s],”[19] so engaging in workarounds of this kind is necessary for patent owners to protect their hard-earned and valuable patent rights.[20]

Nearly one year after the Allergan-Saint Regis deal was announced, on July 20, 2018, the Federal Circuit decided that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs, rejecting Saint Regis’s assertion of the doctrine.[21] Therefore, unless the Supreme Court steps in to reverse this decision, the Allergan-Saint Regis deal, and any others like it, is dead.

Part I of this Note covers the history of tribal sovereign immunity, its close relationship to state sovereign immunity, the applicability of state sovereign immunity in intellectual property disputes and administrative proceedings, and the purposes of sovereign immunity. Part II proceeds by evaluating why the Allergan-Saint Regis deal was attractive enough to its participants that they were willing to endure the negative press in order to reap its benefits—patent owners get greater protection of their patents, while tribes receive much-needed funds for little to no cost.[22] The Allergan-Saint Regis deal existed because of concerns that IPRs do not adequately protect patent owners. Congress could take the chance to address these issues, so counterproductive end-runs—even unsuccessful ones—are no longer sought out by patent owners.[23]

 Part III analyzes the various legal decisions rendered in the Allergan-Saint Regis matter. First, it reviews and evaluates the Patent Trial and Appeal Board (“PTAB”)[24] decision from February 2018, finding the it filled with legal error. Next, it evaluates the July 2018 Federal Circuit decision, again finding legal error in refusing to apply tribal sovereign immunity in IPRs. Contra these decisions, tribal sovereign immunity should apply in IPR proceedings, even if this may cause issues from a policy standpoint. These policy issues can be addressed by Congress[25] and, even so, do not outweigh the importance of maintaining tribal sovereign immunity. Therefore, the Supreme Court should take up the issue and reverse the Federal Circuit by finding that tribal sovereign immunity applies in IPRs.

In fact, the Supreme Court would likely reverse the Federal Circuit if it takes the case because its recent decisions have generally protected tribal sovereign immunity.[26] These recent decisions have been rooted in the reasons for the doctrine, such as promoting the dignity of sovereigns, protecting sovereign resources, and protecting a sovereign’s unique culture. Given these purposes, the Court has been extremely hesitant to curtail tribal sovereign immunity without clear Congressional direction to do so. Rather, the Court generally defers to Congress on the issue. Recent cases showcase the Supreme Court giving explicit direction to Congress that it must take ownership over any fixes to problems arising from the assertion of tribal sovereign immunity. Reversal is made even more likely because the Supreme Court has found that state sovereign immunity applies in administrative proceedings and patent litigation. Further, PTAB precedent allows state sovereign immunity to be invoked in IPRs, giving even more reason for the Supreme Court to find that tribal sovereign immunity applies in IPRs, thus preventing unequal treatment of the two sovereigns.

Part IV builds on this contention by evaluating how making tribal immunity inapplicable in IPRs erodes tribal sovereign immunity’s status relative to state sovereign immunity given that state sovereign immunity has typically been allowed to apply in IPRsand administrative proceedings more generally. In fact, Supreme Court jurisprudence over the past several decades has become more protective of state sovereign immunity through the Eleventh Amendment. Therefore, the Federal Circuit decision in this case leaves tribal sovereign immunity out of line with state sovereign immunity in the context of administrative proceedings. Such incongruence should be remedied. This Note argues the best remedy to this issue is for tribal immunity to be brought in line with state immunity in IPRs, thus allowing tribal sovereign immunity to apply in IPR proceedings.

I.  Sovereign Immunity

Sovereign immunity is [a] judicial doctrine which precludes bringing suit against the government without its consent. Founded on the ancient principle that the King can do no wrong, it bars holding the government or its political subdivisions liable . . . unless such immunity is expressly waived . . . .[27]

A.  Tribal Sovereign Immunity

The Indian Commerce Clause of the United States Constitution provides that Congress has the authority to regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes.”[28] By placing Indian tribes alongside states and foreign nations, the United States “recognized tribes among the family of sovereigns.”[29] Chief Justice Marshall classified tribes as “domestic dependent nations.”[30] The Court also has declared that tribes “are in many respects . . . foreign and independent nation[s],” so courts have no “power . . . to arrest the public representatives or agents of Indian nations . . . [or] compel them to pay the debts of their nation.”[31]

Today, the Supreme Court recognizes that “Indian tribes have long been recognized as possessing the common-law immunity from suit traditionally enjoyed by sovereign powers.”[32] In this respect, the Court firmly grounds tribal sovereign immunity in the “inherent powers of a limited sovereignty which has never been extinguished.”[33] In other words, tribal sovereign immunity predates the Constitution and continues to have effect. However, the enactment of the Constitution did place limitations on the immunityconsistent with tribes’ new status as domestic dependent nationsas Congress has the authority to abrogate the immunity through the Indian Commerce Clause.[34] But to do so, Congress must speak clearly, as “courts will not lightly assume that Congress in fact intends to undermine Indian self-government.”[35]

Congress’s power to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity has played a key role in the outcome of several cases. It is worth discussing two of these cases to provide a better understanding of how the Supreme Court approaches tribal sovereign immunity. This Section will conclude with a brief discussion of the Court’s most recent tribal sovereign immunity case, Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren. The Court in Lundgren avoided establishing any new rules for tribal sovereign immunity—the Supreme Court found that the lower courts had not yet had an opportunity to opine on legal issues of immense significance to the case, and since the Supreme Court is not generally a court of first impression, the justices remanded the case to the lower courts.[36] However, the dispute in that case concerned proceedings that could be viewed as similar to IPRs, so its various opinions and dicta are instructive.

1.  Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma v. Manufacturing Technologies, Inc.

In Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma v. Manufacturing Technologies, Inc., the Supreme Court held that tribal sovereign immunity can be invoked by tribes when engaged in off-reservation, commercial activity.[37] The underlying dispute in Kiowa involved stock purchased by a tribal entity from the plaintiff.[38] As part of the transaction, a promissory note was signed in the name of a tribe by which the tribe agreed to pay the plaintiff $285,000 plus interest in exchange for stock.[39] When the tribe defaulted on its payments, an action was commenced in Oklahoma state court. Once in court, the tribe moved to dismiss the case because its sovereign immunity insulated it from suit; however, both the state trial court and the Oklahoma Court of Civil Appeals ruled in favor of the creditor because they reasoned that tribal sovereign immunity should not apply to breaches of contract that involve “off-reservation commercial conduct.”[40] After the Oklahoma Supreme Court declined to hear an appeal, the United States Supreme Court granted certiorari. Justice Kennedy began the majority opinion by reviewing the general principles of tribal sovereign immunity: “[a]s a matter of federal law, an Indian tribe is subject to suit only where Congress has authorized the suit or the tribe has waived its immunity.”[41]

A key factual dispute in the case was whether the promissory note was signed on Indian territory or “beyond the Tribe’s lands;”[42] however, Justice Kennedy dismissed this issue because tribal sovereign immunity does not depend “on where the tribal activities occurred.”[43] Without Congressional abrogation of tribal sovereign immunity for off-reservation, economic conduct, the Supreme Court held for the tribe, allowing them to invoke their sovereign immunity from suit.

Justice Kennedy proceeded to lay out what the Court viewed as the shaky foundation of tribal sovereign immunity, given that it “developed almost by accident.”[44] The majority believed that “[t]here are reasons to doubt the wisdom of perpetuating the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity because the it can economically “harm those who are unaware that they are dealing with a tribe” or have no awareness of tribal sovereign immunity.[45] However, the Court was not moved enough by these arguments to reverse, or even limit, the doctrine. Rather, the Supreme Court put the impetus on Congress to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity in situations where they find it necessary because “Congress is in a position to weigh and accommodate the competing policy concerns and reliance interests.”[46] Therefore, tribes enjoy sovereign immunity protections even when engaging in economic activity outside of reservations. The Supreme Court had the opportunity to reconsider this issue again in 2014. The result remained the same.

2.  Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Community

When the Supreme Court decided Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Community in 2014, it reaffirmed the basic holding from Kiowa that tribal sovereign immunity applies to commercial activity outside of Indian lands unless otherwise abrogated by Congress.[47] Michigan had asked the Supreme Court to find the federal statute at issue authorized their suit and abrogated tribal sovereign immunity, or alternatively, reverse Kiowa’s holding that tribal sovereign immunity applies to commercial activity on non-Indian lands.[48]

The Supreme Court first engaged in statutory construction and found that the statute did not clearly express a Congressional intent to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity in the context at issue.[49] The Court then noted that Michigan could have negotiated a waiver of the tribe’s immunity at the outset of their dealings and, in fact, had significant leverage to do so.[50] Therefore, this was not a situation where parties dealing with tribes were left with no recourse. It is important to remember that parties remain free to negotiate waivers of sovereign immunity, thus protecting themselves in the event future litigation is required in the matter.[51]

Next, the Bay Mills Court turned its attention to reviewing the Kiowa decision and the arguments made in favor of overruling its basic holding. The Court made four arguments under stare decisis that counted against overturning its precedent. First, the decision in Kiowa was only one decision of many in a long line of precedent upholding tribal sovereign immunity.[52] Second, the Supreme Court had relied on the Kiowa precedent as a basis for subsequent rulings. Third, the Court noted that tribes, as well as individuals and entities doing business with them, have relied on the Kiowa precedent when structuring their business dealings. Finally, the Court reiterated that the law places the power in Congress to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity—not in the Court. Therefore, in order “[t]o overcome all these reasons for [the] Court to stand pat, Michigan . . . need[ed] an ace up its sleeve.”[53]

Michigan produced no ace, leaving the Court to explain that Michigan was simply rehashing the same functional arguments promoted by Kiowa’s plaintiff—because tribal business activities have become more detached from tribal governmental interests, sovereign immunity should no longer apply to a tribe’s commercial activity.[54] In Kiowa, the Court was sympathetic to these functional arguments, but still rejected them in favor of tribal sovereign immunity; the Bay Mills Court did the same.[55]

Importantly, after the Kiowa decision, Congress expressly considered abrogating tribal sovereign immunity in the context of commercial activity on non-Indian lands, but rejected a law that overturned Kiowa’s holding.[56] Therefore, Congress had spoken directly on the issue, leading the Court to defer to Congress’s decision and uphold tribal sovereign immunity for commercial activities taking place outside of tribal land.[57] Deferring to Congress kept Bay Mills in line with Justice Kennedy’s Kiowa opinion, which rested its holding on the fact that Congress had the authority to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity and was better positioned to do so, since it could weigh the competing policy concerns. Bay Mills demonstrates the uneasiness the Supreme Court feels towards abrogating tribal sovereign immunity without clear congressional abrogation.

3.  Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren

In May 2018, the Supreme Court decided Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren.[58] The dispute concerned tribal land that the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe’s neighbors (the Lundgrens) claimed to have adverse possessed.[59] The Lundgrens “launched a quiet title lawsuit against the Upper Skagit tribe . . . after the tribe attempted to assert ownership over a strip of land . . . the Lundgrens claim[ed] belong[ed] to them.”[60] The Tribe responded to this action by invoking their sovereign immunity. Washington State courts resolved the issue in favor of the Lundgrens, holding that “the case could go forward under in rem jurisdiction,” even though the court did not have jurisdiction over the Tribe due to sovereign immunity.[61]

This state court holding created a new exception to the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity. On review, the Supreme Court remanded the case to the state court for further review, ultimately ignoring the tribal sovereign immunity issues—though it did touch on those issues in dicta and dissenting and concurring opinions.[62] The Court remanded the case on a procedural grounds because the lower court decisions improperly interpreted a Supreme Court precedent;[63] thus, the parties in the case were asking the Supreme Court to answer a legal question that had not yet been addressed by the lower courts. Namely, the parties wanted the Court to find an “immovable property” exception to the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity.[64] In remanding the case, the Court noted that it was the importance of the question that lead them to refrain from answering the “immovable property” exception question—“[d]etermining the limits on the sovereign immunity held by Indian tribes is a grave question; the answer will affect all tribes, not just the one before us.”[65] Therefore, whether an immovable property exception exists is an open question. Due to the similarity of the issues, the eventual resolution of this case will be instructive for the application of tribal sovereign immunity in IPRs and must be watched closely.

Justice Thomas filed a strongly worded dissent arguing that the “immovable property” exception was strongly established, thus no need to remand existed.[66] He found the idea that an entity (in this case, a tribe) could assert immunity in a suit over land situated inside another sovereign’s jurisdiction ridiculous. Further, “[a]llowing the judge-made doctrine of tribal immunity to intrude on such a fundamental aspect of state sovereignty contradicts the Constitution’s design.”[67] In making such an argument, Justice Thomas articulates a view of tribal sovereign immunity that would naturally be extended to prevent the doctrine’s assertion in IPR proceedings—since patents are historically the jurisdiction of the federal government, allowing tribal sovereign immunity there may “intrude” on the federal government’s sovereignty.[68]

B.  State Sovereign Immunity

Another set of sovereigns recognized by the Constitution is the states.[69] However, the basis for state sovereign immunity is explicitly recognized in a constitutional amendment.[70] The Eleventh Amendment says “[t]he Judicial power of the United States shall not be construed to extend to any suit in law or equity, commenced or prosecuted against one of the United States by Citizens of another State, or by Citizens or Subjects of any Foreign State.”[71]

A few years after the Eleventh Amendment’s enactment, the Supreme Court, in Hans v. Louisiana, held that the amendment imposed a broad understanding of state sovereign immunity.[72] This broad understanding of state sovereign immunity has largely been reaffirmed by the Supreme Court.[73] Thus, unlike tribal sovereign immunity, which can be abrogated by Congress, states enjoy sovereign immunity as a Constitutional right.[74]

In patent cases, the Supreme Court has held that states cannot be subject to suit for patent infringement due to their sovereign immunity.[75] The Supreme Court has not addressed whether a state is immune from a direct challenge to the validity of its patents as would occur if a state-owned patent was challenged in an IPR proceeding.[76] However, the USPTO has opined on the issue. Several 2017 PTAB decisions hold that state-owned patents are not subject to IPR challenges due to state sovereign immunity. But these holdings are subject to the condition that sovereign immunity would be deemed waived if the state had asserted the patent in litigation against the IPR petitioner. Both the Supreme Court case and these PTAB decisions are discussed in more detail below.

1.  Florida Prepaid Postsecondary Education Expense Board v. College Savings Bank

In Florida Prepaid, the Supreme Court considered whether Congress could abrogate state sovereign immunity by allowing private suits against state entities that were infringing patents under the Patent Act.[77] At issue was the Patent Act’s clear abrogation of state sovereign immunity: “[a]ny State . . . shall not be immune, under the [E]leventh [A]mendment of the Constitution of the United States or under any other doctrine of sovereign immunity, from suit in Federal court . . . for infringement of a patent.”[78]

To address this issue, the Supreme Court first discussed its holding in Seminole Tribe of Florida v. Florida from only a few years prior. Seminole Tribe reaffirmed that Congress is not able to use its Article I powers to abrogate state sovereign immunity.[79] Rather, the only way state sovereign immunity could be abrogated is if Congress properly acted through its Fourteenth Amendment enforcement powers (“Section 5 enforcement powers”).[80] Because a patent is property for the purposes of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, Congress could have theoretically used its Section 5 enforcement powers to abrogate state sovereign immunity.[81] However, since Section 5 enforcement powers are remedial, Congress can only use them when the Fourteenth Amendment’s substantive provisions are being violated and Congress needs to step in to prevent further violation of the substantive provisions.[82] Therefore, the question became whether this was a proper use of Congress’s enforcement power. After engaging in a thorough analysis under the City of Boerne v. Flores[83] Section 5 enforcement test, the Supreme Court found the Patent Act’s abrogation of state sovereign immunity was not a proper exercise of Congress’s Section 5 enforcement power.[84]

While Florida Prepaid addressed a state entity’s alleged infringement of a private party’s patent, it is instructive for its discussion of state sovereign immunity’s interplay with patent rights—allowing states to assert their sovereign immunity if made a defendant in a patent suit. A natural extension from this holding would be that state-owned patents cannot have their validity directly challenged.[85] Such a challenge to a state-owned patent’s validity would have to be in an IPR proceeding because if a state asserts their patent in an infringement suit, the suit will suffice as a waiver of the state’s sovereign immunity such that the alleged infringer would be able to challenge the patent’s validity as a defense to patent infringement.[86] Although no federal appellate court has decided if direct challenges to state-owned patents are barred by sovereign immunity, PTAB decisions in 2017 have found that state sovereign immunity protects state-owned entities from having their patents attacked in IPR proceedings.[87] A general overview of these decisions is provided in this next Section.

2.  The Eleventh Amendment in Administrative Proceedings: StateOwned Patents and PTAB IPR Rulings

Federal Maritime Commission v. South Carolina State Ports Authority (“FMC) extends a state’s Eleventh Amendment immunity beyond just Article III proceedings, covering administrative proceedings as well.[88] Additionally, in Vas-Cath, Inc. v. Curators of University of Missouri, the Federal Circuit[89] held that Eleventh Amendment immunity applies to interference proceedings[90] at the USPTO.[91] Building on this Supreme Court and Federal Circuit precedent, PTAB issued several decisions in 2017 regarding the applicability of state sovereign immunity in IPRs.[92]

In Covidien LP v. University of Florida Research Foundation, Inc.,[93] PTAB relied on FMC and Vas-Cath to hold that state sovereign immunity is a defense in IPR proceedings.[94] But to directly apply these two precedents, PTAB needed to address a few things. First, they dealt with the argument that since patents are “public rights” they can be subject to any statutory conditions—such as being subject to review in an IPR proceeding to ensure that the patent was properly granted.[95] PTAB rejected this argument outright as “unpersuasive” because there had been no “case law, or persuasive authority” holding that “a state’s Eleventh Amendment immunity may be limited or abrogated by a public rights exception.”[96] Second, PTAB also rejected the argument that sovereign immunity is irrelevant in IPRs because the “proceedings are directed to the patent itself,” and therefore, are not a private claim against the state.[97] In so deciding, PTAB asserted that the primary function of protecting a sovereign from suit is not monetary, though that is one purpose, but is according them “the respect owed . . . as joint sovereigns.”[98] This tracks recent Supreme Court decisions, the details of which are covered in Section I.C. Additionally, PTAB conceived of the IPR proceeding as a suit between parties rather than as a challenge directed solely to the patent.[99] Therefore, PTAB concluded that it is proper to apply the FMC framework in IPRs.[100]

Applying the FMC framework to IPRs, PTAB began by reaffirming the fact that “immunity applies regardless of whether a private plaintiff’s suit is for monetary damages or some other type of relief.”[101] Therefore, the “absence of monetary and injunctive relief” was irrelevant to the determination of whether state sovereign immunity could be invoked.[102] Next, PTAB considered the nature of IPRs. While noting that there were some differences in procedure and substance between IPRs and civil litigation, PTAB focused on the fact that IPRs are “adversarial” and intended to “resemble civil litigation in federal courts.”[103] Therefore, PTAB held that Eleventh Amendment immunity could be invoked in IPRs.[104]

However, PTAB went further in order to address the patent challenger’s policy argument that allowing a state to assert sovereign immunity in IPR would lead to regrettable outcomes.[105] PTAB conceded that the practical effect of the ruling would mean that states and state-owned entities no longer need to worry about having their patents challenged in the proceeding; however, the PTAB panel pointed out that exempting states from suit is exactly the point of the Eleventh Amendment.[106] The amendment, in fact, explicitly places state dignity as a sovereign above other practical considerations that may merit subjecting the state to suit.[107] Moreover, PTAB pointed out that “there is no evidence that . . . harm to the patent system . . . will come to pass.”[108]

In December 2017, PTAB convened an expanded panel of Administrative Patent Judges to hear another IPR case involving state sovereign immunity.[109] In this case, Ericsson Inc. v. Regents of the University of Minnesota,[110] PTAB’s “Chief Judge Ruschke expanded the panel from the normal three administrative patent judges to seven judges, including himself and the Deputy and Vice Chief Administrative Patent Judges” and wrote the opinion himself.[111] As such, the resulting decision can be understood as PTAB’s authoritative position on the applicability of state sovereign immunity in IPRs. The expanded panel reaffirmed the prior PTAB holdings by concluding that state sovereign immunity can be invoked in IPR proceedings.[112] In coming to this conclusion, they followed Covidien’s reasoning.[113]

However, this expanded PTAB panel placed some limits on a state’s ability to invoke its sovereign immunity. The issue before the expanded panel was whether the state-entity waived its sovereign immunity by filing a patent infringement action in federal district court against the party that had instituted the IPR proceeding.[114] The state-entity argued that waiver of sovereign immunity ought to be limited to the forum in which any waiver occurred.[115] PTAB disagreed, holding that the state waived its sovereign immunity for the purposes of subsequent IPR proceedings when it brought the patent infringement suit.[116]

This holding could prove to be a slight limitation on the usefulness of deals similar to the one between Allergan and Saint Regishowever, as will be discussed in Part III, in light of Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm. Inc.,[117] the deal would be between a patent owner and a state entity rather than a tribe. This is because a party who has been sued for patent infringement in district court could simply initiate IPR review of the asserted patent. The state entity would then be barred from asserting its sovereign immunity as it would be deemed waived by the commencement of the infringement suit against the party who is challenging the patent in the IPR. However, observers of the patent system believe that Ericsson’s holding on waiver could prove to be “controversial on appeal.”[118] This is because “[w]aivers of sovereign immunity . . . are typically forum specific, and [PTAB] did not cite any direct precedent for its ruling” that extended the waiver doctrine to encompass litigation in a separate forum.[119] How this issue is resolved should be watched carefully as it could have far-reaching consequences for patent owners wishing to assert sovereign immunity in IPRs.[120]

While these PTAB decisions have not authoritatively settled the question of state sovereign immunity as a defense in IPR, they provide examples of legal reasoning that may indicate how state sovereign immunity will be dealt with in IPRs if the Federal Circuit opines on the issue.[121] This is because the Federal Circuit is likely to affirm PTAB’s legal analysis.

Through January 15, 2018, the Federal Circuit has affirmed PTAB on every issue raised in cases related to the IPR process just under seventy-four percent of the time.[122] Moreover, the PTAB decisions in Covidien and Ericsson follow what the Federal Circuit held in Vas-Cath. In addition, the Supreme Court’s recent state sovereign immunity cases have viewed sovereign immunity’s primary purpose as protecting the respect due to sovereigns. Because PTAB’s decision rests on similar reasoning, it is likely PTAB will be upheld in the event the decision somehow made it to the Supreme Court.

C.  Sovereign Immunity’s Purposes

Sovereign immunity as a historical doctrine developed out of the idea that “the King c[ould] do no wrong.”[123] This was justified on the grounds that the “King” created the law within a nation or state, and therefore could not act illegally.[124] However, this justification fell out of vogue in America in the late eighteenth century and was replaced with “a rationale emphasizing the doctrine’s benefit to society.”[125] This newer strain of thought stressed that the doctrine was necessary to protect the “sovereigns funds.”[126] Sovereigns use their money to provide services to their people, and if forced to compensate every person with a claim, sovereigns would have less money to spend on providing social services, among other necessary governmental services. While the protection of sovereign funds has been mostly abandoned as a reason to protect states and the federal government via sovereign immunity,[127] it still provides a normative basis for tribal sovereign immunity.[128]

1.  Tribal Sovereign Immunity’s Justifications

Tribal sovereign immunity can be justified with a variety of functional considerations. First, it allows tribes to protect their economic interests, so they can be self-sufficient—in other words, tribal resources will be better protected. Justice Sotomayor espoused this view in her Bay Mills concurring opinion. She wrote in concurrence to provide normative reasons supporting the outcome that reasserted the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity because she viewed the doctrine as under attack, with even the majority opinion questioning the doctrine’s normative foundations.[129]

Justice Sotomayor bolstered the argument in favor of tribal sovereign immunity with an in-depth discussion of the unique issues facing tribes and the ways sovereign immunity helps. First, she pointed out that while some tribes have become “substantial and successful commercial actors,” most tribes do not participate in “lucrative commercial activity.”[130] Furthermore, “[a] key goal of the Federal Government is to render Tribes more self-sufficient, and better positioned to fund their own sovereign functions, rather than relying on federal funding.”[131] The idea is to promote tribal self-sufficiency by allowing them space to operate in the commercial arena so they can make money to perform basic functions expected of sovereigns. These functions include providing schools, roads, police, among other services.

Promoting tribal self-sufficiency is an important goal because tribes are uniquely situated compared to the other sovereigns in the United States when it comes to raising revenue to fund their government. This is because tribes face significant hurdles in imposing taxes. “[T]ribes have no power to impose taxes on non-Indian owners of land inside the reservation even if the tribe provides significant services to the owner.”[132] Additionally, tribes are deprived “of the usual means of raising government funds” as they are significantly limited in their ability to impose property taxes.[133] Tribal governments are not allowed to impose “real property tax on trust lands, which are owned by the federal government.”[134] In some reservations, trust land is equal to all of the tribe’s land.[135] Finally, raising revenue through means such as income taxes is unrealistic because “proportionally more Indians qualify for negative income taxes,” which means they actually pay less in taxes than they receive in benefits.[136] Rather, tribes’ main source of income comes from “federal transfers, which are widely acknowledged to be inadequate . . . and . . . tribe-owned enterprises.[137] These enterprises suffer from less competitive pricing, lower productivity, and worse profitability when compared to privately owned enterprises.[138]

Given these limitations on a tribe’s ability to raise money through taxation, its funds could be significantly depleted if it is expected to pay out on every claim against it. This is especially true for tribes because they are smaller sovereigns acting within much larger sovereigns—the U.S. federal government as well as state governments. As smaller sovereigns, tribes have less money to work with and therefore can be economically crippled if they end up in a situation where they are forced to pay many judgements. To illustrate, imagine a tribe consisting of several thousand people. The tribe could be engaged in economic activity with thousands of people, and if those individuals with whom they are engaged in business have claims against them, the tribe could be wiped out. For this reason, sovereign immunity is essential to maintaining the financial well-being—and independence—of tribes which directly impacts their ability to govern themselves.

In addition to promoting self-sufficiency through stronger economic development, tribal sovereign immunity promotes “Tribal Self-Government.”[139] This idea comes from the place tribes hold in the United States. Tribes are placed alongside foreign nations and states in the United States Constitution’s Commerce Clause and are treated, in Chief Justice Marshall’s words, as “domestic dependent nations.” As this status indicates, tribes govern their own territories. Therefore, they ought to be granted the same dignity afforded to other sovereigns—namely, immunity from suit in the absence of a waiver or congressional abrogation.[140] It is a matter of respect for them to be treated like other sovereigns in the United States.[141]

Finally, tribal sovereign immunity preserves tribal cultural identity.[142] While maintaining a distinct culture in this interconnected world may be difficult, sovereign immunity assists tribes accomplish this by preventing outside forces from imposing foreign rules and values.[143] Because sovereign immunity prevents tribes from being subject to suit in non-Indian tribunals, the tribe does not need to alter its behavior to conform with outside legal and social norms, thus allowing the tribe to chart its own path regarding the law. To the extent law is influenced by culture rather than the reverse,[144] tribal sovereign immunity provides a way for tribes to control their own culture by being free from the influence of another sovereign’s laws.[145]

2.  State Sovereign Immunity’s Justifications

Like tribal sovereign immunity, state sovereign immunity rests on justifications such as protecting state resources and promoting sovereign dignity. The Eleventh Amendment was passed due to concern with protecting state resources after the Revolutionary War because most states had accumulated large debts.[146] Recently, the Supreme Court has focused on the “preeminent purpose” of promoting sovereign dignity.[147] However, because state sovereign immunity exists as a constitutional right, it is unlike tribal sovereign immunity, in which the purposes of the doctrine loom larger because Congress can abrogate it at any time.

II.  Reasons for the Allergan-Saint Regis Deal

The basic idea behind Allergan’s action is simple. The deal made Saint Regis the owner of the Restasis patent, which should leave the Tribe to defend the patent’s validity in any IPR proceeding. In defending the Restasis patent in the IPR, Saint Regis’s Motion to Terminate the proceeding argued: “[t]he tribe is a sovereign government that cannot be sued unless Congress unequivocally abrogates its immunity or the tribe expressly waives it. Neither of these exceptions apply here.”[148] Saint Regis is correct that the tribe’s sovereign immunity has not been abrogated by Congress for IPRs and that Saint Regis has not waived its immunity. In fact, in IPR decisions from 2017, PTAB validated this approach in the context of state sovereign immunity by claiming lack of jurisdiction over a proceeding involving a state-owned patent. As a result, it appeared that by slightly extending PTAB’s logic from its 2017 state sovereign immunity decisions, the Restasis patent would be safe from being challenged in the IPR. However, as will be discussed in Part III, both PTAB and the Federal Circuit disagreed and held that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPR proceedings.

Even so, the motives for the Allergan-Saint Regis deal are still important to understand. As discussed in Section I.B.2, states and state-owned entities are still able to assert sovereign immunity in IPR proceedings, which could lead to patent owners seeking deals with those entities as possible protection for their patents. Therefore, it is possible—though perhaps unlikely—that these sorts of deals could proliferate.

A.  Are These Good Deals for Participants?

Yes. The deals are extremely attractive for tribes, states, and patent owners. They would allow patent owners to evade challenges to their patents in IPR proceedings, which is extremely valuable due to high invalidation rates of patents in IPRs. Independent analysis of invalidation in IPRs finds that anywhere between 62% to 92% of the patents challenged are invalidated, depending upon the technology at issue.[149] Moreover, a recent review found that fifty-eight patents had been invalidated by PTAB on the exact same grounds with which a district court had previously upheld their validity, thus demonstrating PTAB’s “slanted playing field.”[150] In addition, challenged patents represent a substantial asset for the patent owner. In Allergan’s case, the Restasis patent is valued at $1.5 billion.[151] The price of having such a valuable patent invalidated is steep. Allergan prepared for such a possibility by announcing it would layoff over 1,000 employees, costing the company an expected $125 million just in severance expenses.[152] Companies, therefore, have strong incentives to adopt measures to protect their intellectual property.[153] Paying several million dollars to “rent” a tribe’s or state’s sovereign immunity is a small price to pay to protect the patent’s validity.[154]

For tribes, deals like these provide a good way to earn much-needed money.[155] The Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe has 15,600 members and is geographically centered in upstate New York.[156] Saint Regis planned to put this money to use by enhancing government services such as “health, welfare, education, housing and other services.”[157] As discussed in Section I.C, tribes have a hard time raising revenue because they have a limited tax-base. Therefore, tribes must get creative to raise money. While casinos are a lucrative option for some tribes, a large majority of tribes have not been able to tap into casinos for any meaningful amount of revenue.[158] Providing this service to pharmaceutical and technology companies who have patents being challenged in IPRs would provide substantial revenue raising opportunities for tribes that desperately need it.[159]

B.  Are Such Deals a Good Thing?

No. In the case of Allergan and Saint Regis, the two parties use Saint Regis’s sovereign immunity to escape a procedure by which Allergan’s Restasis patent may be invalidated through a mechanism designed by Congress. This violates common notions of fairness by engaging in a “sham” transaction through which Allergan keeps a potentially improperly granted patent because they had the money to “rent” Saint Regis’s sovereign immunity. The deal acts as a loophole through which a big pharmaceutical companythat has access to expensive lawyershas exploited a process in a way that is completely unavailable to patent owners who possess fewer resources.

Arguments made on behalf of Saint Regis and Allergan, while satisfying on the surface, ultimately stumble under scrutiny. An argument supporting this deal notes that IPRs have been deemed a patent “death squad” as most patents are invalidated by the process.[160] Critics of IPRs have noted that by engaging in deals like the one between Allergan and Saint Regis, economically valuable patents may be better protected, thus stimulating more investment in research and development on products that improve people’s lives.

Yet this argument is satisfactory only to the extent that it highlights needed reforms to IPRs. While the IPR process may be flawed, those flaws should not be cured by creating an end run around the Patent Office. Doing it this way diminishes the credibility of the entire system, misallocates money by paying millions of dollars to lawyers and tribes to make the deal, and only benefits companies with resources to pay for the expensive licensing agreement and the lawyers who structure it. Therefore, any fixes to the IPR process should be done by Congress—not by private actors.[161]

Others find the deal appealing because it provides a much-needed revenue source to economically struggling tribes.[162] However, while it does enhance tribal economic independence, it accomplishes that goal by disrupting the congressionallydesigned patent system. Where tribes need to find more funding sources, steps should be taken independently of the patent system. Addressing one problem while undermining an unrelated government program is not a sustainable way to fix anything.

Furthermore, while this could boost funding for a small class of tribes, the actual benefit to most tribes will likely be marginal. Money received in these ventures could be difficult to rely on as the amount may vary dramatically over time. In fact, the appeal of such a deal could hurt early participants the most. As more sovereigns[163] recognize the upside, benefits could become more widely spread, thus leading to fewer benefits for all recipients as the funding sources are spread across a larger number of entities.[164] In addition, if the practice does not become widespread, that means tribes who need the revenue are not reaping the benefits, thus further limiting the benefit of these deals as a solution to tribal revenue issues.

As a panacea for tribal funding, then, this is a poorly targeted program. Either only a select few tribes will benefit, leaving many unable to obtain its benefits, or many will take advantage of these deals, meaning the benefit to each tribe will be small and the amount received will shrink over time as more sovereign actors take advantage of the practice. The problems faced by tribes in the financial sphere is something that should be addressed. However, promoting more deals like the one between Allergan and Saint Regis is not an efficacious solution because these deals will provide only a marginal benefit, at best.[165]

III.  Decisions in the Allergan-Saint Regis IPR

Since the deal was made in September 2017, litigation has proceeded over the applicability of tribal sovereign immunity of IPRs, resulting in opinions from both PTAB and the Federal Circuit Court of Appeals. Both opinions found tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs. As will be discussed below, a proper reading of PTAB, Federal Circuit, and Supreme Court precedent demonstrates that these decisions were incorrect.

A. Patent Trial and Appeal Board 2018 Decision

1.  PTAB Does Not Apply Tribal Sovereign Immunity in IPRs

On February 23, 2018, PTAB denied Saint Regis’s Motion to Terminate IPR proceedings due to tribal sovereign immunity.[166] After going through the history of the deal between Allergan and Saint Regis, PTAB rejected that the Supreme Court’s decision in FMC[167]which allowed state sovereign immunity to be invoked in administrative proceedings—had any bearing on the application of tribal sovereign immunity in administrative proceedings.[168] Moreover, it distinguished its own decisions allowing state sovereign immunity to be invoked in IPRs because “the immunity possessed by Indian Tribes is not co-extensive with that of the states”[169] and “there are reasons to doubt the wisdom of perpetuating the . . . doctrine.”[170]

PTAB further based its decision on Congress’s plenary control over tribal sovereign immunity and noted that the Patent Act is a generally applicable statute that places conditions on the grant of a patent, which includes the possibility of being subject to IPR proceedings.[171] PTAB relied on a variety of circuit court decisions, noting that only in limited circumstances do generally applicable laws not apply to tribes, then found that IPR proceedings do not meet these limited circumstances.[172] PTAB also relied on prior cases in which government administrative enforcement actions against tribes were deemed not to have implicated tribal sovereign immunity because “tribes cannot impose sovereign immunity to bar the federal government from exercising its trust obligations.”[173] Moreover, IPRs are not the type of suit to which an Indian tribe would traditionally enjoy immunity under the common law.”[174]

PTAB concluded this section of the opinion by noting that it does “not exercise personal jurisdiction over the patent owner,” rather, it is over “the challenged patent in an inter partes review proceeding.”[175] In a footnote, the opinion rejects characterizing the proceedings as in rem because they could find no “controlling precedent” for that proposition.[176]

Finally, PTAB concluded that even if tribal sovereign immunity applied in IPRs, the proceeding may continue because Allergan still effectively owns the patent.[177] Allergan is found to be a “patent owner” because the license from Saint Regis to Allergan “transferred ‘all substantial rights’ in the challenged patents”—including the “right to sue for infringement,” the “right to make, use, and sell products or services under the patents,” the “right to sublicense,” the “reversionary rights in patents,” the “right to litigation or licensing proceeds,” among others.[178] In addition, the “tribe is not an indispensable party” to the proceeding, thus, PTAB allowed the IPR to continue without the Tribe.[179] This decision was appealed by Saint Regis and Mohawk to the Federal Circuit.[180]

2.  Issues with the PTAB Decision

PTAB’s decision suffered from numerous flaws that should have made it a prime candidate for reversal on appeal. First, its rejection of state sovereign immunity precedent dealing with the doctrine’s applicability in administrative proceedings because tribal immunity is “not co-extensive with that of the States”[181] dramatically misunderstands the Supreme Court’s tribal sovereign immunity case law. This quote from Kiowa, when read in context, actually stands for the proposition that tribal sovereign immunity is broader than state sovereign immunity in some respects.[182] Yet PTAB relied on it for just the opposite proposition; the panel’s fundamental misunderstanding of Kiowa is evident throughout the rest of its opinion.

Other than this out-of-context quote from Kiowa, PTAB provided no reasons for holding that tribal sovereign immunity is situated differently from state sovereign immunity in IPRs or other administrative proceedings. PTAB did not attempt to distinguish other administrative adjudications that found tribal sovereign immunity applicable; rather, it dismissed them all as non-binding and simply asserted that tribal sovereign immunity is so different from state sovereign immunity that it must not apply.

The remaining arguments from PTAB hold up just as poorly under scrutiny. PTAB asserted that only in limited circumstances do generally applicable laws not apply to tribes. However, this misunderstands the issue, which is whether the tribe can assert its sovereign immunity from suit—not whether the tribe must follow a particular law. As PTAB decided in Covidien, which followed FMC and held that state sovereign immunity applies in IPR proceedings, IPRs are adversarial in nature and modeled on civil litigation.[183] Covidien explicitly found that IPRs are properly conceived of as a civil suit between two parties, rather than as an administrative enforcement proceeding.[184] PTAB’s holding in the Saint Regis case is directly at odds with its own holding in Covidien and Ericssonthe latter being PTAB’s authoritative view on state sovereign immunity in IPRs given the make-up of the expanded panel that decided it. Framing the IPR component of the Patent Act as an enforcement proceeding (rather than an adjudicative proceeding) is incorrect according to PTAB’s own decisions. Rather, as Covidien held, IPRs are modeled as a civil suit, which is the type of proceeding in which tribes historically have sovereign immunity protection.[185]

PTAB also argued its jurisdiction in IPRs is over “the challenged patent,” rather than over the tribe itself.[186] However, Covidien, again, is instructive as it reached the exact opposite conclusion when state sovereign immunity was at issue. PTAB’s Covidien decision applied state sovereign immunity because sovereign immunity’s “central purpose is to accord the States the respect owed them as joint sovereigns.”[187] Moreover, PTAB in Covidien pointed to the adversarial nature of the proceeding, the parties’ involvement in it, and the procedure imposed on PTAB’s authority to review the challenged patents as reasons the proceeding should be understood as having jurisdiction over the patent owner, rather than the patent itself.[188] PTAB in the Saint Regis case does not attempt to explain why it reaches precisely the opposite result in the tribal sovereign immunity context.[189]

PTAB reaffirmed Covidien’s basic holding in Ericsson.[190] There, PTAB convened an expanded panel in which PTAB’s Chief Judge Ruschke wrote the opinion.[191] After Ericsson, it can be reasonably concluded that the authoritative PTAB view applies state sovereign immunity in IPR proceedings for the reasons provided in Covidien. By adopting Covidien’s reasoning on the applicability of state sovereign immunity to IPRs, the Ericsson holding rests upon conclusions of law that the Saint Regis panel directly contradicts without providing any explanation.

In the Saint Regis proceeding, PTAB simply asserted that tribal immunity is different and moved on. However, tribal sovereign immunity is not different from state sovereign immunity in this context. Both doctrines promote the dignity of the sovereign, while helping protect the sovereign’s economic well-being—the latter reason being even more compelling for tribal sovereign immunity given the economic difficulties tribes experience compared to states. The better result would have been to extend Ericsson and Covidien to find that tribal sovereign immunity applies in IPRs. Unfortunately, the decision appeared to be motivated by a desire to stop deals like one between Allergan and Saint Regis from becoming an option for patent owners.[192] The main difference between the state proceedings and the tribal proceeding is that the tribal proceeding garnered significant negative press. Unfortunately, simply shutting down the Allergan-Saint Regis deal ignores the negative impacts on tribal sovereign immunity going forward.

    1.  The Federal Circuit Decision to Not Apply Tribal Sovereign Immunity in an IPR Proceeding

The Federal Circuit approached the question of whether tribal sovereign immunity applies in IPRs in much the same way as PTAB did, also finding that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs.[193] After briefly discussing the case’s procedural history, the Federal Circuit began by laying out the rules of tribal sovereign immunity. It noted that “[g]enerally, immunity does not apply where the federal government . . . engages in an investigative action or pursues an adjudicatory agency action,” while acknowledging the FMC rule that immunity can “apply in federal agency proceedings.[194] The court described the FMC rule as allowing immunity in “adjudicative proceedings brought . . . by a private party,” but not allowing immunity in “agency-initiated enforcement proceedings.”[195] Therefore, the key question in front of the Federal Circuit was which of these two types proceedings is most analogous to IPRs.[196]

 However, answering this question was not straightforward for the Federal Circuit, as it noted IPRs are complicated, “hybrid proceeding[s]” that combine both traditional adjudicatory aspects with characteristics similar to “specialized agency proceeding[s].”[197] The Federal Circuit reviewed “several factors” that led it to determine that “IPR[s] [are] more like an agency enforcement action than a civil suit.”[198]

 First, IPRs are only instituted if the USPTO Director decides to grant review, much like a traditional enforcement action. While it is a private party that requests the review, the Director has “broad discretion in deciding whether to institute review.”[199] Therefore, IPRs are unlike the agency in FMC, which could not refuse to adjudicate private complaints. This means that a federal official is the one deciding to haul a sovereign into “court,” rather than a private party. Second, even though most IPRs are conducted in an adversarial nature between two private parties, the USPTO retains the ability to “continue review even if [a party] chooses not to participate.”[200]

 Next, the Federal Circuit pointed to the “substantial” differences between IPR procedures and the Federal Rules of Civil procedure.[201] It noted the far greater extent of discovery in district court litigation, the opportunity for live testimony at trial, and various differences in pleadings, with the Federal Rules being more liberal in allowing changes. Finally, the Federal Circuit noted that despite the USPTO having options for reexamination that are more inquisitorial than IPR proceedings—in which even the tribe acknowledged sovereign immunity would not apply under FMCthe existence of these options does not make IPRs adjudicatory proceedings. Rather “[w]hile IPR[s] present a closer case for the application of tribal immunity than reexamination, [the Federal Circuit] nonetheless conclude[d] that tribal immunity does not extend to these . . . reconsideration decisions.”[202] In deciding this, the court noted that IPRs are intended to “reexamine . . . agency decision[s].”[203]

 This decision suffers from many of the same issues that the PTAB decision suffered from, which will not be rehashed here. Further issues with the decision will be discussed in Part IV—with a particular focus on how the Federal Circuit incorrectly conceived of IPRs as agency enforcement actions rather than administrative adjudications. In addition to the faulty legal analysis, the bigger issue is the effect of this decision: tribal sovereign immunity cannot be invoked during IPRs, while state sovereign immunity can be. This creates a sort of second-class immunity for the very sovereigns that need the immunity most.

IV.  TRIBAL SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY’S UNEQUAL STATUS WITH STATE SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY

 With its decision in Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharmaceuticals, Inc., the Federal Circuit established that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs.[204] However, as discussed in Section I.B.2, PTAB decisions have previously found that states can invoke their sovereign immunity from suit when having their patents challenged in an IPR proceeding. The reason for this comes from inconsistent legal positions on how to conceive IPRs—that is, treating them as either adjudicatory agency actions or as agency enforcement actions. This inconsistency will be discussed below in Section IV.A.2, which contemplates how to address this inconsistency, while Section IV.A.1 argues that in addition to this inconsistency being based on legal error, this inequality in immunity is normatively undesirable for the way that it negatively impacts tribes, ultimately depriving them of a benefit bestowed on other sovereigns for no just reason.

A. The Inconsistency

 In Saint Regis, the Federal Circuit explicitly did not decide whether state sovereign immunity applies in IPRs; instead, it only explained that tribal sovereign immunity.[205] By leaving this question unanswered, prior PTAB decisions allowing states to invoke their sovereign immunity IPR proceedings were left on shaky footing.[206] This inconsistency in whether states and tribes are allowed to invoke their sovereign immunities in IPRs stems from the conception of the IPR proceeding itself as either adjudicative or enforcement-based. Currently, states can assert their sovereign immunity in IPR proceedings because IPRs are allegedly similar to adjudicative actions, while tribes may not assert their sovereign immunity in IPR proceedings because IPRs are supposedly more similar to enforcement actions.[207]

1.  This Inconsistency Matters and Should Be Fixed

  At a basic level, this inconsistency matters because it stems from an inconsistent legal position taken on the conception of IPRs—adjudicative versus enforcement—rather than a real, substantive differences between tribal and state sovereign immunity.[208]

 This inconsistent treatment of the nature of IPRs should be addressed, and the proper resolution should be that IPRs are similar to district court litigation such that, under FMC, sovereign immunity should apply.[209] First, In the USPTO’s own words, IPRs are trial proceeding[s] adjudicated before PTAB.[210] They are very similar to civil litigation in that they are an adversarial process with discovery, deadlines, and binding decisions. As discussed by PTAB in both Covidien and Ericsson, IPRs share a number of similarities with district court patent litigation.[211] IPRs are initiated by a third party, typically a competitor of the patent owner.[212] Moreover, the proceeding contains many of the safeguards for its participants that district court litigation does, including the prevention of harassment, clear pleading rules, and impartial, politically-insulated decisionmakers.[213]

 Further, the Code of Federal Regulations even provides IPR practitioners with a “trial practice” guide for when they appear “before the patent trial and appeal board,[214] further indicating the specific design of IPR practice to be modeled on civil litigation. A review of the legislative history surrounding the creation of IPRs is consistent with this. The framers of the process envisioned IPRs as adjudicative proceedings, not an enforcement proceeding.[215] Congressional intent appears to have been that “IPRs [are] to serve as a substitute for district court litigation with respect to the key issue of validity.”[216] Based on the similarities of IPR and district court litigation, the FMC framework should apply, meaning that sovereign immunity can be invoked in an IPR from a legal standpoint.[217]

 Beyond just the improper conception of IPRs adopted by PTAB and the Federal Circuit in this case, state and tribal sovereign immunity do not differ enough for this result. In fact, while there are legal differences between tribal and state sovereign immunity, any legal difference between the doctrines should actually break in favor of tribal immunity for both legal and normative reasons.

 First, tribes were not present at the original Constitutional Convention. While they were considered during the drafting of the Constitution and by the early U.S. governments in treaty discussions,[218] tribes did not have any actual input into either the drafting or the ratification of the Constitution. This is quite unlike states, which played an essential role in both drafting and ratification.[219] Given states roles in the drafting of the Constitution, a state sovereign immunity doctrine has developed which says that states can be found to have given up their immunity in some contexts in the “plan of the convention.”[220] While this is a limited doctrine in the state sovereign immunity context—state sovereign immunity case law is largely grounded in the Eleventh Amendment—it does not apply to tribes. Tribes were not present at the convention and, thus, cannot be said to have waived any immunity in the “plan of the convention.” Therefore, in many respects, tribal sovereign immunity is broader than state.[221]

 Second, the Supreme Court, in both Kiowa and Bay Mills, has made it clear that absent actual waiver by a tribe, tribal sovereign immunity does not apply only when Congress has clearly decided to abrogate it. Here, no abrogation occurred, despite former Senator Claire McCaskill introducing legislation to do so. When introducing her legislation, she expressed outrage that it was “one of the most brazen and absurd loopholes I’ve ever seen, and it should be illegal.”[222] However, since the bill was introduced in October 2017, it has not made any progress in Congress. This possibly reflects its status a low priority item for a Congress that has issues passing legislation higher on its priority list. In addition, Congress has been hesitant in the past to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity. As mentioned in Bay Mills, Congress considered abrogating tribal sovereign immunity in the context of commercial, off-reservation activity, but declined to act despite the potentially bad consequences of allowing tribes to engage in such commercial activity without the possibility of being held accountable in court. Given congressional silence in the face of knowing about the problem, courts should be wary of taking actions that fly in the face of Congress’s decision, especially given the Supreme Court’s emphasis on deferring to Congress on issues of tribal sovereign immunity.

Yet beyond these legal issues, there are normative reasons to be concerned about as well. First, courts should be wary of abrogating tribal sovereignty because they should wish to show tribes their due respect as sovereigns. Courts should not want to damage the financial health of the tribes; statistics show poor economic health in tribal territory. For example, “[f]ive of the poorest [ten] counties in the United States are in Indian country.”[223] Therefore, courts should tread lightly when considering any action that that could economically cripple a tribe, including taking away their tribal sovereign immunity in IPRs, which puts them at a disadvantage compared to states. States are still able to take advantage of their sovereign immunity in IPRs and, thus, as discussed in Section II.A, would have strong incentives to engage in these deals with patent owners.

Further, a key reason to promote the doctrine of sovereign immunity is to show the sovereign the respect that it is owed as a sovereign. Treating tribes and states differently here sends the message that tribes are lesser sovereigns than states. Given a long history of tribal oppression in the United States, effort should be made to foster respect owed to these sovereign entities. Legal rules that do the opposite should be renounced or, at least, reconsidered.

2.  Addressing the Inconsistency

 The Supreme Court should review and reverse the Federal Circuit ruling, allowing tribal sovereign immunity to apply in IPRs. In late 2018, Saint Regis appealed the Federal Circuit ruling to the Supreme Court.[224] There is a possibility that “[t]his case is headed for the Supreme Court,[225] where it will likely be reversed. This is the most desirable option available because it accomplishes several things. First, it puts tribes and states back on an even playing field when it comes to IPR sovereign immunity. This is beneficial because being able to assert sovereign immunity in an IPR proceeding is an economic benefit, as evidenced by how the Saint Regis tribe and others began to eagerly promote this service.[226] In addition, it reinstates tribes as equal sovereigns to states, thus allowing them to regain respect that is owed to them as sovereigns.

 In the absence of Supreme Court intervention, PTAB and the Federal Circuit could reverse their view on state sovereign immunity.[227] This alternative response would require PTAB to reverse course and disallow state sovereign immunity from applying in IPRs. While this is not normatively desirable, this would be the response most consistent with the Federal Circuit’s approach in Saint Regis, given how it framed IPRs as an enforcement proceeding.[228] However, the Federal Circuit’s Saint Regis opinion suffers from serious flaws in how it conceives of IPRs—it is also flawed because it largely ignores tribal sovereign immunity case law—and, therefore, its legal error should be reversed rather than extended, making this an undesirable option even though it has the benefit of putting tribes and states on an even playing field in IPRs.

CONCLUSION

In order to ensure that tribes are respected as co-sovereigns, tribal sovereign immunity should be found to apply in IPRs. There has been no congressional abrogation and state sovereign immunity has typically applied in such proceedings. As such, the Allergan-Saint Regis deal should be upheld. The Supreme Court should reverse the Federal Circuit decision preventing Saint Regis from asserting its immunity for several reasonsthe Federal Circuit misunderstood the essential adversarial nature of IPR proceedings, the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence on state and tribal sovereign immunity, and the reasons underlying the sovereign immunity doctrine. This incorrect result is fundamentally unjust, treating sovereign tribes as lesser than states for no good reason. This improper ruling calls for immediate Supreme Court intervention and reversal.

In addition, the Allergan-Saint Regis deal highlighted many issues of pressing importance. Going forward, these issues are in need of more public debateon topics such as the financial situation of tribes and issues patent owners have with IPR proceedings. Each problem requires further study, thought, and innovation to be properly solved. However, as a first step, the Supreme Court should step in and fix the errors of PTAB and the Federal Circuit, restoring the proper respect owed to tribe sovereigns.

 


[*] *. Editor-in-Chief, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. Candidate 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; M.S. Mechanical Engineering 2013, University of Minnesota; B.A. Physics 2012, Saint John’s University. I am eternally grateful to my incredible wife, Margaret, for her endless love, support, and patience over the last three years. Thank you to my parents, Jim and Teri, for all their encouragement and support. In addition, thank you to Professor Sam Erman for his guidance, time, and input as I worked through many versions of this Note. Finally, thank you to Katie Schmidt, Karen Blevins, Kevin Ganley, and the rest of the talented Southern California Law Review editors for their great work.

 [1]. U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 3; see also Matthew L.M. Fletcher, A Short History of Indian Law in the Supreme Court, Hum. Rts., Spring 2015, at 3, 3, https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract
_id=2616802.

 [2]. See Gregory Ablavsky, Tribal Sovereign Immunity and Patent Law, SLS Blogs: Legal Aggregate (Sept. 13, 2017), https://law.stanford.edu/2017/09/13/tribal-sovereign-immunity-and-patent
-law (“Congress can readily use its plenary power to abrogate tribal sovereign immunity in patent law.”).

 [3]. Fletcher, supra note 1; see also U.S. Const. amend. XI. There is an academic debate over the precise contours of state sovereign immunity under the Eleventh Amendment and whether or not it actually enshrines state sovereign immunity. See, e.g., William A. Fletcher, A Historical Interpretation of the Eleventh Amendment: A Narrow Construction of an Affirmative Grant of Jurisdiction Rather Than a Prohibition Against Jurisdiction, 35 Stan. L. Rev. 1033, 1035 (1982). This Note does not opine on this issue.

 [4]. Sovereign Immunity, Black’s Law Dictionary (6th ed. 1990).

 [5]. See infra Section I.B for further discussion of state sovereign immunity’s meaning and the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence on the subject.

 [6]. Id. The differences between tribal sovereign immunity and state sovereign immunity are discussed infra Part III. However, at the outset, it is important to remember that state sovereign immunity is based on the Eleventh Amendment of the Constitution, while tribal sovereign immunity is not enshrined in a specific constitutional amendment; rather, it is federal common law. See Kiowa Tribe of Okla. v. Mfg. Techs., Inc., 523 U.S. 751, 764–65 (1998) (Stevens, J., dissenting).

 [7]. Restasis is most commonly used to treat dry eye but can also be used to treat more serious medical conditions. See Allergan, About RESTASIS® and RESTASIS MultiDose®, Restasis, https://www.restasis.com/about-restasis-and-restasis-multidose (last visited Mar. 29, 2019); Restasis Patient Information Including Side Effects, RxList, https://www.rxlist.com/restasis-drug/patient-images-side-effects.htm (last visited Apr. 18, 2019).

 [8]. Katie Thomas, How to Protect a Drug Patent? Give It to a Native American Tribe, N.Y. Times (Sept. 8, 2017), https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/08/health/allergan-patent-tribe.html.

 [9]. Press Release, Allergan, Allergan and Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe Announce Agreements Regarding RESTASIS® Patents (Sept. 8, 2017), https://www.allergan.com/news/news/thomson-reuters
/allergan-and-saint-regis-mohawk-tribe-announce-agr. The Restasis patent expires in 2024, and its value has been estimated at $1.5 billion. Id.; Jan Wolfe, Allergan Ruling Casts Doubt on Tribal Patent Strategy, Reuters (Oct. 17, 2017, 3:10 PM), https://www.reuters.com/article/us-allergan-patents-analysis
/allergan-ruling-casts-doubt-on-tribal-patent-strategy-idUSKBN1CM369.

 [10]. Inter Partes Review, U.S. Pat. & Trademark Off., https://www.uspto.gov/patents-application-process/appealing-patent-decisions/trials/inter-partes-review (last visited Mar. 29, 2019) [hereinafter Inter Partes Review, U.S. Pat. & Trademark Off.]; Inter Partes Review Replaces Inter Partes Reexamination, Taft, Stettinius & Hollister LLP (Oct. 5, 2012), https://www.taftlaw.com
/news-events/law-bulletins/inter-partes-review-replaces-inter-partes-reexamination.

 [11]. Inter Partes Review, U.S. Pat. & Trademark Off., supra note 10.

 [12]. Wolfe, supra note 9 (discussing a quote from Judge William Bryson of the Federal Circuit that casts the legality of “rent[ing]” a tribe’s sovereign immunity into doubt).

 [13]. S. 1948, 115th Cong. (2017).

 [14]. See infra Section II.A.

 [15]. Lawrence Hoffman, Inter Partes Review: Good or Bad for Patent Owners, Ehrlich & Fenster (Dec. 18, 2016), http://www.ipatent.co.il/inter-partes-review-good-or-bad-for-patent-owners.

 [16]. The Supreme Court affirmed the constitutionality of the IPR process in Oil States Energy Services, LLC v. Greene’s Energy Group, LLC, 138 S. Ct. 1365, 1370 (2018). The case challenged IPR constitutionality because IPRs extinguish private property rights (patents) through a non-Article III venue. Id. at 137273. The precise details of this case are beyond the scope of this Note; however, the key takeaway is that IPRs are constitutional.

 [17]. For a more detailed discussion of the deal’s upsides, see infra Part II.

 [18]. See Susan Decker, Tribal Lawyer Shops Patent-Shielding Idea to State Universities, Bloomberg L. (Oct. 19, 2017, 1:11 PM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/corporate-law/triballawyer-shops-patent-shielding-idea-to-state-universities.

 [19]. Id.

 [20]. It is important to keep in mind that while deals like this prevent patents from being invalidated by IPR, such patents may still be challenged when asserted in district court litigation. In nearly all patent litigation, the alleged infringer argues that the patent being asserted against them is invalid. In such cases, the patent owner will not be able to assert tribal sovereign immunity as they will have been deemed to have waived their immunity by entering the forum through litigation.

 [21]. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm., Inc., 896 F.3d 1322, 1325 (Fed. Cir. 2018); see also Gene Quinn, Federal Circuit Rules Tribal Sovereign Immunity Cannot Be Asserted in IPRs, IPWatchdog (July 20, 2018), https://www.ipwatchdog.com/2018/07/20/federal-circuit-tribal-sovereign
-immunity-cannot-asserted-iprs/id=99504.

 [22]. States could engage in these deals in addition to tribes. Therefore, even if the Federal Circuit decision finding that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs is upheld, Congress may still face pressure to address this issue because it could become widespread if a few cash-needy states engage in these deals.

 [23]. However, actual proposals for improving the IPR system go beyond the scope of this Note, which focuses on the application of tribal sovereign immunity to IPR proceedings.

 [24]. The Patent Trial and Appeals Board (“PTAB”) hears IPR challenges and is located inside the USPTO. 35 U.S.C. § 6(a)(b) (2012). The USPTO is part of the federal government’s executive branch.

 [25]. Many of these issues stem from issues with the IPR proceeding itself. While an evaluation of the IPR proceeding is beyond the scope of this Note, if IPRs are part of the problem, a good congressional response would be to reform the IPR proceeding, thus reducing incentives for patent owners to engage in these deals. This approach would leave tribal sovereign immunity in place as a defense in IPRs (which as this Note argues infra Parts III and IV is normatively desirable), while focusing on reforming the IPR system such that it may no longer be considered a “death trap” for patent owners.

 [26]. See infra Section I.A.

 [27]. Sovereign Immunity, supra note 4.

 [28]. U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 3.

 [29]. William Wood, It Wasn’t an Accident: The Tribal Sovereign Immunity Story, 62 Am. U. L. Rev. 1587, 1625 (2013).

 [30]. Cherokee Nation v. Georgia, 30 U.S. (5 Pet.) 1, 17 (1831).

 [31]. Wood, supra note 29, at 1641 (quoting Parks v. Ross, 52 U.S. (11 How.) 362, 374 (1850) (second alteration in original)).

 [32]. Santa Clara Pueblo v. Martinez, 436 U.S. 49, 58 (1978) (holding a tribe was immune from an action taken to enforce the Indian Civil Rights Act in federal court through declaratory and injunctive relief). Additionally, in Santa Clara Pueblo, the Supreme Court elaborated on reasons for this immunity such as the financial burdens that being subject to suit could impose on the “financially disadvantaged” tribes. Id. at 64.

 [33]. United States v. Wheeler, 435 U.S. 313, 322 (1978) (emphasis omitted).

 [34]. Id. at 323 (discussing Congress’s plenary power to regulate the conduct of tribes).

 [35]. Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Cmty., 572 U.S. 782, 790 (2014).

 [36]. Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren, 138 S. Ct. 1649, 1654–55 (2018).

 [37]. Kiowa Tribe of Okla. v. Mfg. Techs., Inc., 523 U.S. 751, 760 (1998).

 [38]. Id. at 753–54.

 [39]. Id.

 [40]. Id. at 754.

 [41]. Id.

 [42]. Id. at 753–54.

 [43]. Id. at 754.

 [44]. Id. at 756. Justice Kennedy explains this phenomenon in his opinion by arguing that Turner v. United States, 248 U.S. 354, 355 (1919), the case cited for the proposition that tribes enjoy immunity from suit, did not originally stand for this particular proposition. Rather, Justice Kennedy believes that tribal sovereign doctrine only came to exist through the Court’s subsequent decision in United States v. U.S. Fidelity & Guaranty Co., 309 U.S. 506 (1940). But see Wood, supra note 29, at 1587 (criticizing Kennedy’s historical analysis of the doctrine’s development).

 [45]. Kiowa, 523 U.S. at 758.

 [46]. Id. at 758–59.

 [47]. See Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Cmty., 572 U.S. 782, 788–90 (2014).

 [48]. Id. at 791.

 [49]. Id. at 791–804 (evaluating Indian Gaming Regulatory Act provisions).

 [50]. Id. at 796–97. The Court explained its reasoning as follows:

If a State really wants to sue a tribe for gaming outside Indian lands, the State need only bargain for a waiver of immunity. . . . States have more than enough leverage to obtain such terms because a tribe cannot conduct class III gaming on its lands without a compact . . . and cannot sue to enforce a State’s duty to negotiate a compact in good faith . . . . So as Michigan forthrightly acknowledges, ‘a party dealing with a tribe in contract negotiations has the power to protect itself by refusing to deal absent the tribe’s waiver of sovereign immunity from suit.’ . . . And many States have taken that path.

Id. (citations omitted).

 [51]. This reasoning would not apply in the Allergan-Saint Regis case. There, waiver of sovereign immunity would not be negotiable by third parties as the third parties by definition were not present when the licensing deal was made. It is interesting though that when Allergan made this deal with Saint Regis, it secured a limited waiver of the Tribe’s immunity as it related to any potential litigation arising from the deal. See Mylan Pharm., Inc. v. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe, No. IPR2016-01127, 2018 WL 1100950, at *10 (P.T.A.B. Feb. 23, 2018) (denying Saint Regis’s motion to terminate the proceeding).

 [52]. Bay Mills, 572 U.S. at 798 (explaining that the Kiowa Court positioned itself as simply following well-established precedent that tribal immunity does not have “any exceptions for commercial or off-reservation conduct”).

 [53]. Id. at 799.

 [54]. Id at 798–801.

 [55]. Id.

 [56]. Id. at 802–03.

 [57]. Id.

 [58]. Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren, 138 S. Ct. 1649 (2018).

 [59]. Andrew Westney, Justices May Cinch Immunity Loophole in Upper Skagit Case, Law360 (Feb. 1, 2018), https://www.law360.com/articles/1008098/justices-may-cinch-immunity-loophole-in-upper-skagit-case.

 [60]. Id.

 [61]. Id.

 [62]. Upper Skagit, 138 S. Ct. at 1654–55.

 [63]. See id. at 1651–53.

 [64]. See id. at 1654.

 [65]. Id.

 [66]. Id. at 1661–63 (Thomas, J., dissenting).

 [67]. Id. at 1663.

 [68]. However, as will be discussed infra Part III, neither PTAB or the Federal Circuit relied on reasoning similar to Justice Thomas’s to decide that tribal immunity does not apply in IPR.

 [69]. U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 3 (“[R]egulate commerce with foreign nations, and among the several states, and with the Indian tribes.”).

 [70]. See U.S. Const. amend. XI.

 [71]. Id.

 [72]. Hans v. Louisiana, 134 U.S. 1, 18–20 (1890) (holding that despite clear textual language to the contrary, citizens of a state are not allowed to sue the state of which they are a citizen).

 [73]. See, e.g., Seminole Tribe of Fla. v. Florida, 517 U.S. 44, 56–­57 (1996).

 [74]. As mentioned supra note 3, the specific nuances of state sovereign immunity are beyond the scope of this Note.

 [75]. See Seminole Tribe, 517 U.S. at 72.

 [76]. A holding on this issue would be instructive for the Allergan-Saint Regis case because Allergan’s patent was having its validity challenged in IPR when the deal took place.

 [77]. Fla. Prepaid Postsecondary Educ. Expense Bd. v. Coll. Sav. Bank, 527 U.S. 627, 630 (1999).

 [78]. Id. at 632 (citation omitted) (providing the statute at issue’s language, which clearly abrogated state sovereign immunity).

 [79]. Id. at 636–37 (discussing Seminole Tribe, 517 U.S. at 59).

 [80]. See Seminole Tribe, 517 U.S. at 59 (discussing Fitzpatrick v. Bitzer, 427 U.S. 445, 452–56 (1976)).

 [81]. Fla. Prepaid, 527 U.S. at 636–37 (discussing Seminole Tribe, 517 U.S. at 59–60).

 [82]. Id.

 [83]. City of Boerne v. Flores, 521 U.S. 507, 520 (1997).

 [84]. Fla. Prepaid, at 646–47. The Court evaluated the various requirements introduced in City of Boerne. See City of Boerne, 521 U.S. at 520. A deeper discussion of these requirements is beyond the scope of this Note.

 [85]. There are two ways a state’s patent could be challenged. First, the patent could be challenged in a post-grant proceeding at the Patent Office such as an IPR proceeding. Second, in a case where the state is the plaintiff, the defendant (that is, the alleged infringer) could challenge the patent’s validity during district court litigation. See David Carnes, How to Challenge a Patent, Legalzoom, https://info.legalzoom.com/challenge-patent-21969.html (last visited Mar. 31, 2019). IPRs are the only venue in which sovereign immunity could be helpful because by filing suit against an alleged infringer, the sovereign would be deemed to have waived its immunity for the purposes of that litigation.

 [86]. See Biomedical Patent Mgmt. Corp. v. California, 505 F.3d 1328, 1343 (Fed. Cir. 2007).

 [87]. Catherine Garza & Paula Heyman, Sovereign Immunity Protects State-Funded Patent Owners from Post-Grant Proceedings, Lexology: PTAB Trials Blog (Apr. 11, 2017), https://www.lexology.com/library/detail.aspx?g=d1a3c68b-efdc-4c16-bae8-d5fdd2b6feba (noting that neither the Supreme Court nor the Federal Circuit has addressed this question).

 [88]. Fed. Mar. Comm’n v. S.C. State Ports Auth. (FMC), 535 U.S. 743, 760 (2002) (holding that a state entity was immune from an adjudication at the Federal Maritime Commission because of the similarities that such proceedings have with civil litigation).

 [89]. Appeals of PTAB decisions are reviewed by the Federal Circuit. Court Jurisdiction, U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fed. Circuit, http://www.cafc.uscourts.gov/the-court/court-jurisdiction (last visited Mar. 31, 2019). The Federal Circuit has exclusive appellate jurisdiction over all patent cases that occur in federal district court. Federal Circuit decisions, along with Supreme Court decisions, are binding in the realm of patent law on PTAB and federal district courts. See id.

 [90]. In interference proceedings, the Patent Office seeks to settle a dispute over which party invented the patented product or method first. See Introduction to USPTO Patent Interference Practice, McNeely, Hare & War LLP, http://www.patentek.com/patent-interference-overview (last visited Mar. 31, 2019). This proceeding was necessary because the United States patent system granted a patent to the first inventor. However, in 2011, Congress passed the America Invents Act, which eliminated interferences as a part of patent law in the United States. Leahy-Smith America Invents Act, Pub. L. No. 112-29, 125 Stat. 290 (2011). This is because the law altered the patent system to a first-to-file system, where the first entity to file for a patent is granted the patent, regardless of who invented it first. See Introduction to USPTO Patent Interference Practice, supra.

 [91]. Vas-Cath, Inc. v. Curators of the Univ. of Mo., 473 F.3d 1376, 1382 (Fed. Cir. 2007) (holding that the reasoning in FMC applied to interference proceedings because they “bear ‘strong similarities’ to civil litigation, . . . can indeed be characterized as a lawsuit”).

 [92]. Garza & Heyman, supra note 87.

 [93]. See Covidien LP v. Univ. of Fla. Research Found. Inc., No. IPR2016-1274, 2017 WL 4015009, at *1 (P.T.A.B. Jan. 25, 2017).

 [94]. Garza & Heyman, supra note 87.

 [95]. Covidien, 2017 WL 4015009, at *5.

 [96]. Id.

 [97]. Id. at *6 (presenting the argument from the party challenging the patent).

 [98]. Id. at *6 (quoting Fed. Mar. Comm’n v. S.C. State Ports Auth., 535 U.S. 743, 765 (2002)).

 [99]. Id. Note that this conception of IPR means that the ultimate disposition of Upper Skagit, discussed supra Section I.A.3., would not be applicable. That case concerns whether the “immovable property” exception applies to tribal sovereign immunity. Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren, 138 S. Ct. 1649, 1654 (2018). The point of that exception, as noted by Justice Thomas in dissent, is that sovereign immunity should not extend to actions over property within another sovereign’s jurisdiction. Upper Skagit, 138 S. Ct. at 1661–63 (Thomas, J., dissenting). Here, given the Patent Clause of the Constitution, exclusive jurisdiction is given to the federal government over patents. See U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 8. This means that patents are a property exclusively of federal jurisdiction, much like a physical property is exclusively within a state’s jurisdiction. Therefore, extending Justice Thomas’s view to the IPR case, would mean that sovereign immunity should not apply in IPRs due to the fact that patents are exclusively within federal jurisdiction. However, since PTAB views IPRs as adversarial in Covidien, this type of analysis is inapplicable.

 [100]. Covidien, 2017 WL 4015009, at *8. The FMC approach is used to determine whether sovereign immunity applies in administrative proceedings. IPRs are an administrative proceeding.

 [101]. Id. at *9 (emphasis omitted) (quoting FMC, 535 U.S. at 765).

 [102]. Id.

 [103]. Id. The PTAB decision extensively details all the ways that IPRs resemble civil litigation in federal courts. See id. at *9–11.

 [104]. Id. at *12.

 [105]. Id. at *11 (“Petitioner additionally argues that immunizing patents owned by alleged state entities from IPR proceedings would have harmful and far-reaching consequences.” (internal citation omitted)).

 [106]. Id. at *11.

 [107]. Id.

 [108]. Id. at *12. There is still no evidence available which shows that allowing state sovereign immunity to be asserted in IPRs causes any harm to the patent system. It seems possible, however, that this harm could surface if states begin setting up their own deals with patent owners who wish to take advantage of state sovereign immunity, much like the Allergan-Saint Regis deal. In fact, in light of the Federal Circuit’s refusal to allow tribal sovereign immunity in IPRs, it is possible patent owners may begin seeking deals with states or state-owned entities, thus, “renting” their sovereign immunity.

 [109]. Anthony Blum, PTAB Offers Clarification on Inter Partes Review and State Sovereign Immunity, Thompson Coburn LLP (Dec. 22, 2017), https://www.thompsoncoburn.com/insights/              publications/item/2017-12-22/ptab-offers-clarification-on-inter-partes-review-and-sovereign-immunity (noting that seven administrative patent judges heard this case in contrast to the usual three judges).

 [110]. Ericsson Inc. v. Regents of the Univ. of Minn., No. IPR2017-01186, 2017 WL 6517563, at

*1 (P.T.A.B. Dec. 19, 2017) (expanded panel).

 [111]. Blum, supra note 109.

 [112]. Ericsson, 2017 WL 6517563, at *2.

 [113]. Id. PTAB also utilized the FMC holding that state sovereign immunity can be invoked in administrative proceedings.

 [114]. Id.

 [115]. Id. at *2–3.

 [116]. Id. at *4.

 [117]. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm., Inc., 896 F.3d 1322 (Fed. Cir. 2018).

 [118]. See, e.g., Blum, supra note 109.

 [119]. Id.

 [120]. At the time of writing, no appeals were pending on this issue.

 [121]. In Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharmaceutical, Inc., the Federal Circuit noted that it had not opined on state sovereign immunity’s application in IPRs, saying in its decision that made tribal sovereign immunity inapplicable that “we are only deciding whether tribal immunity applies in IPR. While we recognize there are many parallels, we leave for another day the question of whether there is any reason to treat state sovereign immunity differently.” Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm., Inc., 896 F.3d 1322, 1329 (Fed. Cir. 2018).

 [122]. David C. Seastrunk et al., Federal Circuit PTAB Appeal Statistics – January 15, 2018, Finnegan LLP (Feb. 6, 2018) https://www.finnegan.com/en/insights/blogs/america-invents-act/federal-circuit-ptab-appeal-statistics-January-15-2018.html.

 [123]. Thomas P. McLish, Tribal Sovereign Immunity: Searching for Sensible Limits, 88 Colum. L. Rev. 173, 174 (1988) (alteration in original) (citation omitted).

 [124]. Id.

 [125]. Id.

 [126]. Id.

 [127]. Id. at 174–75 (noting a large majority of the states have either completely or partially waived their sovereign immunity from suit).

 [128]. See Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Cmty., 572 U.S. 782, 804–07 (2014) (Sotomayor, J., concurring).

 [129]. Id.; see also supra Sections I.A.1. and I.A.2. (discussing Bay Mills and its doctrinal underpinnings in detail). Justice Sotomayor agreed with the majority opinion’s application of sovereign immunity on stare decisis grounds but concurred to provide normative justifications for the doctrine to address critics of who no longer saw it serving any purpose.

 [130]. Id. at 809 (internal quotation marks omitted) (noting that nearly half of all tribes in the United States do not operate casinos and that among the tribes that do operate casinos only a small percentage of them reap most of the profits).

 [131]. Id. at 810.

 [132]. Joseph P. Kalt & Joseph William Singer, Myths and Realities of Tribal Sovereignty: The Law and Economics of Indian Self-Rule 17 (Harvard Univ. John F. Kennedy Sch. of Gov’t Faculty Research Working Papers Series, Paper No. RWP04-016, 2004) (discussing the holding of Atkinson Trading Co. v. Shirley, 532 U.S. 645 (2001)).

 [133]. Kelly S. Croman & Jonathan B. Taylor, Why Beggar Thy Indian Neighbor? The Case for Tribal Primacy in Taxation in Indian Country 5 (Joint Occasional Papers on Native Affairs, JOPNA 2016-1, 2016), http://nni.arizona.edu/application/files/8914/6254/9090/2016_Croman_why_beggar_thy
_Indian_neighbor.pdf.

 [134]. Id.

 [135]. Id. Croman and Taylor also note that reservations are subject to state property taxes within the boundaries of the reservation unless they have been given an exemption under state law. Id.

 [136]. Id.

 [137]. Id.

 [138]. Id.

 [139]. Note, In Defense of Tribal Sovereign Immunity, 95 Harv. L. Rev. 1058, 1069 (1982). In addition, this idea can be related back to the idea that the “King” does “no wrong.” See supra Section I.C.

 [140]. Remember that tribes are “domestic dependent nations” and, as such, the scope of tribal sovereignty is limited by the sovereign on which they depend: the federal government. The limitations placed on tribal sovereign immunity give meaning to the tribe’s “dependent” status by recognizing that they are, in a sense, inferior to the federal government.

 [141]. Obviously, the dependent status of tribes still exists in the United States, but to the extent possible, tribes should be treated as a sovereign.

 [142]. See In Defense of Tribal Sovereign Immunity, supra note 139, at 1069–70.

 [143]. See id.

 [144]. While there is debate about this point, law can be conceptualized as—at least partly—reflecting the culture from which it springs. See, e.g., Iris I. Varner & Katrin Varner, The Relationship Between Culture and Legal Systems and the Impact on Intercultural Business Communication, 3 Global Advances Bus. & Comm. Conf. & J., no. 1, 2014, at 1, 2–3.

 [145]. There will be some crossover as tribes are “domestic dependent nations” that are subject to the constraints of the United States Constitution and laws passed by Congress. However, sovereign immunity still provides some level of protection in this area. Evaluating how much protection is beyond the scope of this Note.

 [146]. See Wood, supra note 29, at 1619.

 [147]. Id. at 1619–20 (noting additionally that protecting a state’s treasury was still a meaningful purpose of the Eleventh Amendment).

 [148]. Carlos Quijada, Patents and Tribal Sovereign Immunity, Univ. of Utah S.J. Quinney Coll. of Law: LABS Blog (Oct. 23, 2017), https://www.law.utah.edu/patents-and-tribal-sovereign-immunity.

 [149]. Dan Schneider & James Edwards, Open Letter from Conservatives: What’s at Stake in Oil States v. Greene’s Energy Group, IPWatchdog (Nov. 28, 2017), http://www.ipwatchdog.com
/2017/11/28/conservatives-open-letter-oil-states-v-greenes-energy-group/id=90579.

 [150]. Steve Brachmann & Gene Quinn, 58 Patents Upheld in District Court Invalidated by PTAB on Same Grounds, IPWatchdog (Jan. 8, 2018), http://www.ipwatchdog.com/2018/01/08/58-patents-upheld-district-court-invalidated-ptab/id=91902.

 [151]. Wolfe, supra note 9.

 [152]. Michael Erman, Allergan to Cut Over 1,000 Jobs as It Works to Cut Costs, Reuters (Jan. 3, 2018, 8:59 AM), https://www.reuters.com/article/us-allergan-layoffs/allergan-to-cut-over-1000-jobs-as-it-works-to-cut-costs-idUSKBN1ES1HN.

 [153]. Patents such as Restasis also represent the reward after substantial investment by the company.

 [154]. Again, while the Federal Circuit has said that tribal immunity does not apply, these numbers are emblematic of the massive economic incentive that patent owners have to engage in these types of workarounds.

 [155]. These deals help protect and grow tribal resources, which is one of the purposes of tribal sovereign immunity.

 [156]. Quijada, supra note 148.

 [157]. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe, Frequently Asked Questions About New Research and Technology (Patent) Business 3 (2017), https://www.srmt-nsn.gov/_uploads/site_files/Office-of-Technology-Research-and-Patents-FAQ.pdf.

 [158]. See Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Cmty., 572 U.S. 782, 809–10 (2014) (Sotomayor, J., concurring).

 [159]. Similar reasons exist for states to engage in such deals, even if, as noted in Section I.C.2, states possess stronger mechanisms for raising money. That being said, it is easy to envision poorer states engaging in such deals as another source of revenue. The biggest obstacle to states doing such a thing, it seems, would be potential political pressure. In addition, given how the Federal Circuit ruled in Saint Regis, see infra Section III.B., it is possible state sovereign immunity may no longer be found to apply in IPRs.

 [160]. See supra Section II.A.; see also Decker, supra note 18 (explaining that IPRs act as patent “death squad[s]”).

 [161]. However, as will be discussed infra Part III, these shortcomings do not justify the outcomes reached by the Federal Circuit and PTAB in the Allergan-Saint Regis case. Rather, reforms should focus on improving the patent system, while respecting tribal sovereign immunity.

 [162]. See, e.g., Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe, supra note 157, at 3; cf. Bay Mills, 572 U.S. at 809–10 (Sotomayor, J., concurring) (arguing that “not all Tribes are engaged in highly lucrative commercial activity” and that even if they were, this fact alone “would not justify the commercial-activity exception urged by the principal dissent”).

 [163]. States could do this as well. See supra Section I.B.2.

 [164]. While such benefit spreading could be a good thing, it most likely will harm sovereigns, such as Saint Regis, who pioneered these deals only to have companies go to other sovereigns who offer better deals. This could cause harm to some tribes as revenue sources dry up and previously relied upon services must go away due to lack of funding.

 [165]. This Note takes no position on how to best handle the financial situation of tribes. It just recognizes that relying on a system like the one used by Allergan and Saint Regis could be very counterproductive.

 [166]. See Mylan Pharm., Inc. v. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe, No. IPR2016-01127, 2018 WL 1100950, at *2 (P.T.A.B. Feb. 23, 2018) (denying Saint Regis’s motion to terminate the proceeding).

 [167]. See supra Section I.B.2. for a discussion of FMC and its holdings on state sovereign immunity in administrative proceedings.

 [168]. Mylan Pharm., 2018 WL 1100950, at *34 (discussing Federal Maritime Commission v. South Carolina State Ports Authority (FMC), 535 U.S. 743 (2002), in which the Supreme Court held that state sovereign immunity could be invoked in administrative proceedings). PTAB also rejected in this portion of the opinion decisions by other administrative agencies which had found that tribal sovereign immunity could be invoked in administrative proceedings. Id. at *3 (discussing Kanj v. Viejas Band of Kumeyaay Indians, No. 06-074, 2007 WL 1266963 (U.S. Dep’t of Labor Adm. Rev. Bd. Apr. 27, 2007)), which noted that no prior cases prevented tribes from asserting sovereign immunity in administrative adjudications). It should be noted that PTAB provided no reasons for treating states and tribes differently in this context.

 [169]. Id. at *4 (citation omitted).

 [170]. Id. (citation omitted).

 [171]. Id. at *4–5.

 [172]. See, e.g., id. at *5 (discussing San Manuel Indian Bingo & Casino v. NLRB, 475 F.3d 1306, 1312–13 (D.C. Cir. 2007), which said “when a tribal government goes beyond matters of internal self-governance and enters into off-reservation business transaction[s] with non-Indians, its claim of sovereignty is at its weakest.”). This underlying idea is directly at odds with the Supreme Court’s approach in Bay Mills, which found tribal sovereign immunity is only abrogated where Congress clearly intends, even if there may be negative consequences from the immunity’s applicability. PTAB did not discuss Bay Mills in its analysis. For further discussion of Bay Mills, see Section I.A.

 [173]. Mylan Pharm., 2018 WL 1100950, at *5 (quoting Quileute Indian Tribe v. Babbitt, 18 F.3d 1456, 1459 (9th Cir. 1994)). The tribes attempted to distinguish these cases on the basis that IPRs include a third party initiating and remaining involved in the entire proceeding; however, PTAB rejected this argument. Id. at *6.

 [174]. Id. (internal quotation marks omitted). It is unclear then why PTAB thinks state sovereign immunity can be invoked in IPRs.

 [175]. Id. (discussing how patent owners are not required to participate in IPR proceedings).

 [176]. Id. at *6 n.6.

 [177]. Id. at *7–8.

 [178]. Id. at *8, *10–12.

 [179]. Id. at *13–15 (noting that the Federal Rules of Procedure do not apply to administrative proceedings).

 [180]. Kevin E. Noonan, St. Regis Mohawk Tribe and Allergan Appeal Denial of Motion to Dismiss on Sovereign Immunity Grounds, Patent Docs: Patent Law Weblog (Mar. 1, 2018, 10:04 PM), http://www.patentdocs.org/2018/03/st-regis-mohawk-tribe-and-allergan-appeal-denial-of-motion-to-dismiss-on-sovereign-immunity-grounds.html. The decision can be appealed under the collateral order doctrine which allows for immediate appeal of denials of sovereign immunity. See, e.g., Burlington N. & Santa Fe Ry. Co. v. Vaughn, 509 F.3d 1085, 1094 (9th Cir. 2007).

 [181]. See Mylan Pharm., 2018 WL 1100950, at *4 (discussing Kiowa Tribe of Okla. v. Mfg. Techs., Inc., 523 U.S. 751, 756 (1998)).

 [182]. See Kiowa Tribe of Okla. v. Mfg. Techs., Inc., 523 U.S. 751, 75556 (1998). The Court “noted, however, that the immunity possessed by Indian tribes is not coextensive with that of the States,” distinguishing “state sovereign immunity from tribal sovereign immunity,” because “tribes were not at the Constitutional Convention.” Id. Accordingly, the tribes were “not parties to the ‘mutuality of . . . concession’ that ‘makes the States’ surrender of immunity from suit by sister States plausible.’”

Id. (quoting Blatchford v. Native Village of Noatak, 501 U.S. 775, 782 (1991) (alteration in original)).

 [183]. Covidien LP v. Univ. of Fla. Research Found. Inc., No. IPR2016-1274, 2017 WL 4015009, at *13 (P.T.A.B. Jan. 25, 2017).

 [184]. Id.

 [185]. See Kiowa, 523 U.S. at 754–55.

 [186]. Mylan Pharm., 2018 WL 1100950, at *6.

 [187]. Covidien, 2017 WL 4015009, at *6.

 [188]. Id. at *9–11.

 [189]. Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren, discussed supra Section I.A.3, almost answered whether tribal sovereign immunity applies to in rem jurisdiction, where lower courts have claimed the jurisdiction is over the property instead of the tribe, thus allowing the lower courts to find tribal immunity not applicable in the proceeding. In rem jurisdiction is like IPRs because the proceeding can be construed to be about the patent itself—not the patent owner. However, the Supreme Court avoided answering whether tribal immunity applies to in rem cases, leaving the question for another day. See generally Upper Skagit Indian Tribe v. Lundgren, 138 S. Ct. 1649 (2018).

 [190]. Ericsson Inc. v. Regents of the Univ. of Minn., No. IPR2017-01186, 2017 WL 6517563, at

*2 (P.T.A.B. Dec. 19, 2017) (expanded panel).

 [191]. Blum, supra note 109.

 [192]. Which, as discussed supra Section II.B., is a valid concern. However, abrogating tribal sovereign immunity where it should not be is not the proper response. Rather, the onus should be on Congress to address the issue as they are better situated to do so.

 [193]. Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm., Inc., 896 F.3d 1322, 1325 (Fed. Cir. 2018).

 [194]. Id. at 1325–26.

 [195]. Id. at 1326.

 [196]. Remember, as discussed supra Section I.B.2., the PTAB had previously decided that for the purposes of state sovereign immunity, IPR should be treated as an adjudicative action rather than a traditional enforcement action.

 [197]. Saint Regis, 896 F.3d at 1326 (citation omitted).

 [198]. Id. at 1327.

 [199]. Id.

 [200]. Id. at 1328. While this is true as a rule, most often IPRs proceed as would litigation, with the patent owner arguing for patent validity and a variety of private challengers arguing the patent is invalid.

 [201]. Id.

 [202]. Id. at 1329.

 [203]. Id. (citation omitted).

 [204]. See supra Section III.B. for a discussion of the ruling.

 [205]. Saint Regis, 896 F.3d at 1329 (“In this case [the Federal Circuit] only decid[ed] whether tribal immunity applies in IPR. While [it] recognize[d] there are many parallels, [it] le[ft] for another day the question of whether there is any reason to treat state sovereign immunity differently.”).

 [206]. See Ericsson Inc. v. Regents of the Univ. of Minn., No. IPR2017-01186, 2017 WL 6517563, at *2 (P.T.A.B. Dec. 19, 2017) (expanded panel); Covidien LP v. Univ. of Fla. Research Found. Inc., No. IPR2016-1274, 2017 WL 4015009, at *12 (P.T.A.B. Jan. 25, 2017).

 [207]. For a discussion of PTAB rulings on state sovereign immunity’s applicability in IPRs, including Covidien and Ericsson, see supra Section I.B.2. In those cases, PTAB focused on the similarity between IPRs and district court litigation on its way to finding that state sovereign immunity applies. See supra Part III for further discussion of PTAB’s and the Federal Circuit’s decisions finding that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in an IPR proceeding because of its dissimilarity to district court litigation.

 [208]. While PTAB’s original holding that tribal sovereign immunity does not apply in IPRs focused on the difference between tribal and state sovereign immunity, the Federal Circuit’s decision did not.

 [209]. For PTAB’s proper analysis of why IPR is similar to district court litigation, see supra Section I.B.2.

 [210]. Inter Partes Review, U.S. Pat. & Trademark Off., supra note 10.

 [211]. See supra Section I.B.2.

 [212]. Inter Partes Review, U.S. Pat. & Trademark Off., supra note 10 (presenting, on the government’s own website, the procedure for how this “trial proceeding” is conducted); see also Peter Harter & Gene Quinn, How IPR Gang Tackling Distorts PTAB Statistics, IPWatchdog (Apr. 5, 2017), https://www.ipwatchdog.com/2017/04/05/ipr-gang-tackling-distorts-ptab-statistics/id=81816 (explaining the process by which third parties can initiate IPR proceedings).

 [213]. See 35 U.S.C. §§ 311–314 (2012) (revealing the adversarial nature of the proceeding); 37 C.F.R. § 42.51–.52 (2018) (laying out IPR discovery procedures); Alex Chan, Are Administrative Patent Judges Properly Appointed Under the Appointments Clause?, Am. B. Ass’n (Feb. 15, 2019), https://www.americanbar.org/groups/litigation/committees/minority-trial-lawyer/articles/2019/are-administrative-patent-judges-properly-appointed-under-the-appointments-clause (“PTAB judges exercise significant independent discretion, are not removable from the competitive service except for cause.”); see also Covidien LP v. Univ. of Fla. Research Found. Inc., No. IPR2016-1274, 2017 WL 4015009, at *8–11 (P.T.A.B. Jan. 25, 2017) (“[C]onsidering the nature of inter partes review and civil litigation, [PTAB] conclude[d] that the considerable resemblance between the two is sufficient to implicate the immunity afforded to the States by the Eleventh Amendment.”).

 [214]. See 37 C.F.R. § 42 (2018) (laying out the procedure for a PTAB trial).

 [215]. See 157 Cong. Rec. S1375 (daily ed. Mar. 8, 2011) (statement of Sen. Kyl) (“One important structural change made by the present bill is that inter partes reexamination is converted into an adjudicative proceeding in which the petitioner, rather than the [USTPO], bears the burden of showing unpatentability.”).

 [216]. Joel Sayres & Julie Wahlstrand, To Stay or Not to Stay Pending IPR? That Should Be a Simpler Question, 17 Chi.-Kent J. Intell. Prop., no. 3, 2018, at 52, 59.

 [217]. It is true that there are some dissimilarities between IPRs and civil litigation as well, but these dissimilarities are limited to procedures, rather than the main substance between them, and largely reflect the somewhat more limited nature of the IPR proceeding. It is then important to note that per PTAB, “there is no requirement that the two types of proceedings be identical for sovereign immunity to apply to an administrative proceeding.” Covidien, 2017 WL 4015009, at *11.

 [218]. See, e.g., Relations with Native Americans, Library of Cong., https://www.loc.gov
/collections/continental-congress-and-constitutional-convention-from-1774-to-1789/articles-and-essays
/to-form-a-more-perfect-union (last visited Apr. 3, 2019).

 [219]. See, e.g., The Constitutional Convention of 1787, Univ. of Mo.-Kansas City Sch. L., http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/conlaw/convention1787.html (last visited Apr. 3, 2019).

 [220]. See, e.g., Blatchford v. Native Vill. of Noatak, 501 U.S. 775, 779 (1991) (“[A] State will therefore not be subject to suit in federal court unless it has consented to suit, either expressly or in the ‘plan of the convention.’” (citation omitted)).

 [221]. Of course, this is only true in those areas where tribal sovereign immunity has not been abrogated.

 [222]. Meg Tirrell, More Scrutiny for Allergan over Native American Tribe Deal, CNBC (Oct. 2, 2017, 6:31 PM), https://www.cnbc.com/2017/10/02/more-scrutiny-for-allergan-over-native-american-tribe-deal.html.

 [223]. Juana Summers, Looming Trump Budget Cuts Deepen Distress on Pine Ridge, CNN (May 28, 2017, 10:49 AM), https://www.cnn.com/2017/05/27/politics/indian-reservation-trump-budget/index
.html.

 [224]. Petition for Writ of Certiorari, Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe v. Mylan Pharm., Inc. (No. 18-899) (U.S. Jan. 11, 2019); St. Regis Mohawk Tribe Appeals Loss in Patent Case to Supreme Court, Indianz.com (Jan. 16, 2019), https://www.indianz.com/News/2019/01/16/st-regis-mohawk-tribe-appeals-loss-in-pa.asp.

 [225]. Gene Quinn, Federal Circuit Rules Tribal Sovereign Immunity Cannot Be Asserted in IPRs, IPWatchdog (July 20, 2018), https://www.ipwatchdog.com/2018/07/20/federal-circuit-tribal-sovereign
-immunity-cannot-asserted-iprs/id=99504.

 [226]. See, e.g., supra note 155 and accompanying text.

 [227]. This assumes that neither plan on reversing course on tribal sovereign immunity. The Federal Circuit denied a petition to rehear the case en banc. Matthew W. Johnson, PTAB Denies Stay Pending Sovereign Immunity Cert Petition, Lexology: PTAB Litig. Blog (Dec. 26, 2018), https://www.lexology.com/library/detail.aspx?g=a28cb7cc-76b1-47ea-8364-0cf8d618ba1d.

 [228]. See supra Section III.B. (discussing the Federal Circuit’s decision in the Saint Regis case).

 

Crushing Creativity: The Blurred Lines Case and Its Aftermath

From Volume 92, Postscript (February 2018)
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CRUSHING CREATIVITY: THE BLURRED LINES CASE AND ITS AFTERMATH[*]

EDWIN F. MCPHERSON[†]

On March 10, 2015, the music world was stunned when a jury in Federal District Court in Los Angeles rendered a verdict in favor of the heirs of Marvin Gaye against Pharrell Williams and Robin Thicke, who, along with rapper Clifford Harris, Jr., professionally known as “T.I.,” wrote the 2013 mega-hit song entitled “Blurred Lines.” The eight-member jury unanimously found that Williams and Thicke had infringed the copyright to Marvin Gaye’s “Got To Give It Up.”[1] On appeal, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed the verdict and recently rejected Williams and Thicke’s Petition for Rehearing en banc.

The case is significant for a number of reasons. In typical music copyright casesat least successful onesthe two works share the same (or at least a similar) sequence of pitches, with the same (or at least similar) rhythms, set to the same chords. The Blurred Lines Case [DB1]was unique, in that the two works at issue did not have similar melodies; the two songs did not even share a single melodic phrase. In fact, the two works did not have a sequence of even two chords played in the same order, for the same duration. They had entirely different song structures (meaning how and where the verse, chorus, etc. are placed in the song) and did not share any lyrics whatsoever.

The verdict in this caseassuming (perhaps naively) that it was based upon the music at all,[2] and not, for example, the jury’s dislike for Robin Thicke and his admitted drug usewas no doubt based upon a perception that the overall “feel” or “groove” of the two works is similar, as songs of a particular genre often are. In essence, Williams and Thicke have been found liable for the infringement of an idea, or a series of ideas, and not for the tangible expression of those ideas, which is antithetical to Section 102(b) of the Copyright Act.[3] Such a result is very dangerous to the music community and is certain to stifle future creativity.

All music shares inspiration from prior musical works, especially within a particular musical genre. The import of the Blurred Lines Case is, therefore, that songwriters can now be punished for creating new music that is merely inspired by prior works. By eliminating any meaningful standard for drawing the line between permissible inspiration and unlawful copying, the verdict is certain not only to impede the creative process and stifle future creativity, it ultimately does a disservice to past songwriters as well and adversely affects the entire music industry. The law, and specifically the intent behind the Copyright Act, would be much better served if the courts could provide clearer rules so that songwriters could know when the line is crossed, or at least where the line is.

I.  District Court’s Denial of Summary Judgment

Just prior to trial, the district court denied Williams and Thicke’s motion for summary judgment based upon the declarations of two musicologists submitted by the Gayes, which were filled with abstract theories, identifying certain remote, seemingly unrelated, factors of alleged similarity.[4] The court dismissedsimply as “issues of fact”the multitude of dissimilarities in the two works that were identified by Williams and Thicke’s musicologistincluding distinct, material differences in the actual melodies of the two songs.

Because “Got to Give it Up” was a pre-1978 composition and was recorded prior to 1972, the Court properly limited the Gayes’ proof to include only the deposit copy of the sheet music that was presented to the U.S. Copyright Office upon registration by Marvin Gaye’s publisher and did not allow the jury to hear the entire sound recording. However, immediately following this ruling, the court systematically and completely emasculated the ruling in the following significant ways:

  1. After the court had ruled on summary judgment that “Theme X” (a four-note melody) was not on the deposit copy, the court allowed the Gayes’ musicologist to testify that her “Theme X” was different from the court’s “Theme X,” and that her “Theme X” was implied[5] in the deposit copy (as was much of the music that was contained in the sound recording).
  2. The court allowed the Gayes’ musicologist to further testify that although the keyboard part in “Got to Give it Up” similarly was not in the deposit copy, “professional musicians would understand[6]” to play the keyboard part as she transcribed it—and that keyboard part was the “heartbeat” of “Got to Give it Up.”
  3. The court allowed the Gayes’ musicologist to use a transcription of the bass part from the sound recording that was different than the bass part on the deposit copy.
  4. The court allowed the Gayes’ musicologist to use sound bites from both works to show a “total concept and feel,” while in actuality compounding the issue with an instruction to the jury to disregard the actual clips and only to consider the musicologist’s “opinions.”
  5. The court allowed the Gayes’ musicologist to present a “mashup” of the two works, which was prepared after the close of expert discovery, and which included the bass and keyboard elements (that were not in the deposit copy)—while excluding mashups that were prepared by Williams and Thicke’s musicologist between “Got to Give it Up” and numerous old soul songs and many pop songs that could be played over the same four chords.
  6. The court allowed a lay witness who was in charge of the Marvin Gaye catalogue at Marvin Gaye’s record label (which also happened to be Robin Thicke’s record label), who does not even know how to read music, to testify that he listened to “Blurred Lines,” and thought that it was similar to the “Got to Give it Up” sound recording.

At the same time, the district court excluded evidence that Marvin Gaye’s own publisher strongly believed that there was no infringement. One of the functions of a music publisher is to police the copyrights of the songs in its catalogue, to assess whether or not its songwriters’ music has been infringed, and to commence litigation against the infringers.

In this case, according to Marvin Gaye’s publisher, EMI/Jobete, as stated in the Joint Rule 16(b) Report, EMI/Jobete

first internally analyzed whether ‘Blurred Lines’ was an infringement of ‘Got To Give It Up’ and determined that there was no infringement. Thereafter, Jobete secured the opinion of an expert musicologist who similarly concluded that there was no basis for a claim of infringement. Jobete duly reported its determinations to Frankie and Nona Gaye’s representatives . . . . Further Jobete advised that it could not, in good faith, bring infringement claims (either for ‘Got To Give It Up’ or for ‘After The Dance’ [another song that the Gayes claimed was infringed by Williams and Thicke] because its analysis, including expert analysis confirmed that neither work had ben infringed by Blurred Lines . . . . Jobete advised that, consistent with Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, it therefore could not and would not either defend Frankie and Nona Gaye [in Williams and Thicke’s declaratory relief action] or pursue the infringement claim they demanded.[7]

Ultimately, the Gayes actually sued EMI/Jobete for not pursuing the infringement claim against Williams and Thicke.[8]

II.  Infringement of An Idea, Which Is Not Copyrightable

It appears that the jury in this case was persuaded by a number of factors, including the foregoing similarities that were extraneous to the sheet music, interviews given by Robin Thicke, the number of musicologists that each side had (Gayes: two; Williams and Thicke: one), and the biased lay witness opinion. Not one of these factors had anything to do with any perceived similarity in pitch, rhythm, or chords, and not one of these factors constituted a proper basis for a finding of copyright infringement.

A result such as this, in which the melodies are not even close to being similar, is very dangerous, in that it does not distinguish between an idea and the expression of that idea, nor does it distinguish between the influence of a predecessor’s music and the unlawful copying of that music. The inherent danger of such a result is that, without drawing a proper line between what is an idea and what is an expression or between what is an influence and what is an infringement, future songwriters do not know whether their “influence” is going to land them with the next hit record or land them in courtor both, as demonstrated in this case.

Much has been said about Williams’s and Thicke’s apparent ability to afford to fund a case like this. Whether or not Williams and Thicke are able to afford to defend this case and pay a judgment, most of the musicians in the world are not in a position to do so. Clearly then, when a budding songwriter is contemplating the composition of a song, it is axiomatic that he or she is going to think twice before he or she writes a song that “feels” like a Marvin Gaye song or any other artist’s song, always with one foot in the recording studio and one foot in the courtroom. This is an untenable situation that most certainly will not foster uninhibited creativity.

III.  The Ninth Circuit Decision

Devastated by the effect that the verdict would have on future songwriters and the music industry in general, Williams and Thicke appealed the case to the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. The Ninth Circuitin a 2-1, very lengthy decision,[9] written by Judge Milan D. Smith Jr.affirmed the bulk of the district court’s decision and ignored the cries of the 212 Amicus songwriters (and dissenting judge Jacqueline H. Nguyen). The majority asserted that its entire decision was about narrow procedural matters and concluded its decision by stating that: “[f]ar from heralding the end of musical creativity as we know it, our decision, even construed broadly, reads more accurately as a cautionary tale for future trial counsel wishing to maximize their odds of success.”[10]

At the heart of the appeal was the issue of whether the copyright protection enjoyed by the Gayes was limited to the sheet music of “Got to Give it Up” that was deposited with the U.S. Copyright Office, or whether the jury could hear the sound recording as well. Williams and Thicke had successfully argued to the district court that because the Gaye song was created under the Copyright Act of 1909, the jury should not get to hear the sound recording. The Gayes’ attorney argued at the district court and at the Ninth Circuit that their proof should not be so limited. On appeal, Williams and Thicke’s attorney argued that Judge Kronstadt erred by initially restricting the Gayes’ proof to the deposit copy but then allowing in bits and pieces of the sound recording through the testimony of the handsomely paid musicologist, Judith Finell.

The majority noted that Williams and Thicke’s position that the scope of the Gayes’ copyright was limited to the deposit copy did not appear to be specifically supported by any case law until the district court’s ruling. However, the court decided to avoid the issue altogether: “Nevertheless, because we do not remand the case for a new trial, we need not, and decline to, resolve this issue in this opinion.”[11]

The Court did affirm that the district court had discretion to allow testimony from both of the Gayes’ music experts, which Williams and Thicke’s lawyers claimed to have improperly incorporated opinions about the similarity of the sound recordings, notwithstanding its earlier limitation of proof to sheet music.

In response to Williams and Thicke’s assertion that Judge Kronstadt erroneously denied their motion for summary judgment, the appellate court determined that the denial of summary judgment, after a complete trial on the merits, is not reviewable unless the issue is one of pure law. The court determined that this was not such a case: “The district court’s application of the extrinsic test of similarity was a factbound inquiry far afield from decisions resolving ‘disputes about the substance and clarity of pre-existing law.’ The district court’s ruling bears little resemblance to legal issues we have reviewed pursuant to our exception.”[12]

With respect to Williams and Thicke’s claim that the district court should not have allowed certain portions of the testimony of the Gayes’ musicologists, the court pointed out that Finell “was impeached with her deposition testimony, in which she admitted that the rhythm of the keyboard parts in the sound recording of Got To Give It Up is not notated in the deposit copy.”[13] The court further noted that Williams and Thicke’s expert disputed her testimony and that the whole thing “boiled down to a question of whose testimony to believe,” which was the purview of the jury.[14] Ultimately, the court ruled that the verdict was not against the clear weight of the evidence.

The Blurred Lines decision was indeed a procedural one and is on very narrow grounds. The court held that the jury’s verdict was not against the clear weight of evidence and refused to disturb or “second guess” the jury’s fact-finding at trial. The court concluded that the district court did not abuse its discretion in denying Williams and Thicke’s motion for a new trial.[15]

Even Williams and Thicke’s contention that the damages were excessive was met with a purely procedural response. The jury had awarded the Gayes 50% of the publishing revenue from “Blurred Lines” as actual damages, which amounted to approximately $3.2 million. The court ruled that the Gayes’ expert testimony in that regard was not speculative and, therefore, affirmed the amount. Similarly, the court determined that the jury’s verdict awarding profits to the Gayes of $1.8 Million against Robin Thicke and $375,000 against Williams was “not clearly erroneous,” nor was the continuing 50% royalty rate.[16]

The court did take exception to the district court’s treatment of T.I. and the Interscope parties, but that was on procedural grounds as well. The jury had rendered a general verdict in favor of T.I. and the Interscope parties, finding (albeit inconsistently) that neither had violated the Gayes’ copyright. The district court disregarded the jury’s verdict in that regard and brought them back into the case.

The Ninth Circuit ruled that the Gayes waived their challenge to the consistency of the jury’s verdict in this regard by not asserting their position at trial before the jury was discharged. The court went on, however, to rule that, even if the Gayes had properly preserved their challenge, “neither Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 50(b) nor our decisions in Westinghouse and El-Hakem v. BJY Inc. conferred authority on the district court to upset the jury’s verdicts in this case.”[17] The court further noted that “no evidence showed Harris was vicariously liable.”[18]

The majority, by focusing on the procedural aspects of the case, minimized the precedential value of the appeal itself, ignoring the potentially catastrophic ramifications of the case as a whole. This cavalier dismissal by the majority precipitated a blistering dissent by Judge Jacqueline Nguyen and an actual rebuttal to the dissent by the majority.

Judge Nguyen writes: “The majority allows the Gayes to accomplish what no one has before: copyright a musical style.”[19] She states further that: “‘Blurred Lines’ and ‘Got to Give It Up’ are not objectively similar. They differ in melody, harmony, and rhythm. Yet by refusing to compare the two works, the majority establishes a dangerous precedent that strikes a devastating blow to future musicians and composers everywhere.”[20]

With respect to the expert musicologists, the dissent goes on:

While juries are entitled to rely on properly supported expert opinion in determining substantial similarity, experts must be able to articulate facts upon which their conclusions—and thus the jury’s findings—logically rely. Here, the Gayes’ expert, musicologist Judith Finell, cherry-picked brief snippets to opine that a constellation of individually unprotectable elements in both pieces of music made them substantially similar. That might be reasonable if the two constellations bore any resemblance. But Big and Little Dipper they are not. The only similarity between these constellations is that they’re both compositions of stars.[21]

Judge Nguyen then picks up on a theme that was forefront in the 212 Songwriters, etc. Amicus Brief, and that was that it is axiomatic that copyright laws do not protect ideas, but only the expression of ideas. In the Blurred Lines Case, the only similarities that exist between the two compositions is the “idea” of, for example, clapping hands, yells, different instruments, etc.

Judge Nguyen goes on to challenge the majority to explain which elements of “Got to Give It Up” were protectable. She also does not believe in the “sliding scale” of access vs. similarity, in other words, the more access can be proved, the less substantial the similarity that is required. The majority adopted the inverse ratio rule, which was designed for cases with limited accessessentially, the less likely the access, the more similarity that is necessary to prove “copying.”[22] Judge Nguyen does not believe that, with undisputed access, the extent of similarity necessary to fulfill a plaintiff’s burden of proof essentially dwindles down to nothing.[23]

In response, the majority strikes back, stating:

[T]he dissent prophesies that our decision will shake the foundations of copyright law, imperil the music industry, and stifle creativity. It even suggests that the Gayes’ victory will come back to haunt them, as the Gayes’ musical compositions may now be found to infringe any number of famous songs preceding them. Respectfully, these conjectures are unfounded hyperbole. Our decision does not grant license to copyright a musical style or groove. Nor does it upset the balance Congress struck between the freedom of artistic expression, on the one hand, and copyright protection of the fruits of that expression, on the other hand. Rather, our decision hinges on settled procedural principles and the limited nature of our appellate review, dictated by the particular posture of this case and controlling copyright law. Far from heralding the end of musical creativity as we know it, our decision, even construed broadly, reads more accurately as a cautionary tale for future trial counsel wishing to maximize their odds of success.[24]

A.  The Denial of Rehearing En Banc

After their appeal to the Ninth Circuit failed, Williams and Thicke filed a petition for an en banc rehearing of the case. Judge Nguyen was the sole judicial proponent of en banc review, which was therefore denied.

IV.  All Music Is InSpired By Other Music

From time immemorial, every songwriter, composer, and musician has been inspired by music that came before him or her. Even one of the musicologists for the Gayes admitted that, with respect to music: All composers share devices and building.” This is especially so within a particular musical genre. Virtually no music can be said to be 100% new and original.

David Bowie was influenced by John Coltrane, Velvet Underground, and Shirley Bassey, among others.[25] Lady Gaga was influenced by David Bowie, Elton John, and Queen, among others.[26] Elton John was influenced by The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Kinks, and Elvis Presley, among others.[27] The Beatles were influenced by Chuck Berry, Cliff Richard, The Beach Boys, and Elvis Presley.[28] Elvis Presley’s musical influences were “the pop and country music of the time, the gospel music he heard in church and at the all-night gospel sings he frequently attended, and the black R&B he absorbed on historic Beale Street as a Memphis teenager.”[29]

Marvin Gaye, himself, was reportedly influenced by Frank Sinatra, Smokey Robinson, Nat “King” Cole, Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Bo Didley, and James Brown.[30] In fact, “Got To Give It Up” was apparently inspired by Johnnie Taylor’s song “Disco Lady.”[31]

One can only imagine what our music would have sounded like if David Bowie would have been afraid to draw from Shirley Bassie, or if the Beatles would have been afraid to draw from Chuck Berry, or if Elton John would have been afraid to draw from the Beatles, or if Elvis Presley would have been afraid to draw from his many influences. Presumably, it would also be difficult for the Gayes to imagine if their father had been afraid to draw from Ray Charles or Bo Didley. Quite simply, if an artist is not allowed to display his or her musical influences, for fear of legal reprisal, there is very little new music that is going to be created, particularly with the limitations that already naturally exist in songwriting.

V.  Music Copyright Cases Need A Bright Line Test

In the world of film, television, and books, the universe of choices is unlimited. One can write about the past, the present, or the future; one can write about things that actually happened, things that one wished had happened, or things that could never happenthere is absolutely no limit beyond the author’s imagination.

Yet, notwithstanding those unlimited options, there is somewhat of a bright line test for infringement (and for obtaining summary judgment) in the film/television/book world that does not exist in the music world. With a film, an expert conducts the extrinsic test by comparing the plots, sequence of events, characters, theme, mood, and pace of the two works. The expert also filters out all of the scènes à faire, such as a car chase in an action movie or a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

A motion for summary judgment in such cases will weed out the protectable elements from the unprotectable elements. It will then demonstrate how the works are different with respect to protectable elements, and how any perceived similarities are based upon commonplace, unprotectable elements. The “language” spoken by the experts is typically one that the judge understands and can articulate freely.

In music, unlike film, etc., however, there is a “limited number of notes and chords available to composers,” and composers are therefore much more restricted in their options.[32] There are literally twelve notes per octave, and not all of those notes can be used in the same song. As Judge Learned Hand once wrote: “It must be remembered that, while there are an enormous number of possible permutations of the musical notes of the scale, only a few are pleasing; and much fewer still suit the infantile demands of the popular ear. Recurrence is not therefore an inevitable badge of plagiarism.”[33]

Yet, notwithstanding the severe actual and practical limitation of choices in music cases, the line drawing that exists in film copyright cases does not appear to exist in music cases. Musicologists speak a language that is often foreign to judges (and juries), and therefore confuse judges into denying summary judgment motions whenever two musicologists disagree.[34] There appears to be no easy way, no bright line, to determine in music casesand it was certainly not done in this casethe difference between creating the same “feel” or “style,”[35] and infringing a copyright.[36]

This is particularly so when a plaintiff can hire three, four, or five musicologists, conflict out three of them that find no similarities between any protectable elements, and know that, even if he only has one musicologist that can argue a case for infringement, he will avoid summary judgment. This is exactly what happened in the Blurred Lines Case. There were two or three musicologists that were initially consulted, rendered strong opinions of non-infringement, and ultimately were conflicted out of the case.[37]

VI.  Copyright Law Should Stimulate, Not Stifle, Creativity

The “ultimate aim” of the Copyright Act is “to stimulate artistic creativity for the general public good,” and most musicians applaud and appreciate that endeavor.[38] However, they also understand that, like the music that was created before them, their own music will serve as building blocks for future songwriters, who will create their own music. As discussed in Fogerty v. Fantasy, Inc., “copyright assures authors the right to their original expression, but encourages others to build freely upon the ideas and information conveyed by a work.”[39]

As written by Peter Alhadeff and Shereen Cheong in the Berklee College of Music Music Business Journal, “The Lesson of Blurred Lines,” quoting an interview with Berklee College of Music professor, Dr. E. Michael Harrington:If you’re not influenced by Marvin Gaye, there must be something wrong with you.”[40] The authors go on to write: “[h]e could just as well be talking about James Brown, Chuck Berry, the Beatles, or Michael Jacksonall of them a product of their own influences. Copyright law should make musical creativity flourish, not stifle.”[41]

Parker Higgins, director of copyright activism at the Electronic Frontier Foundation writes that

[w]hen we say a song sounds like a certain era, it’s because artists in that era were doing a lot of the same thingsor, yes, copying each other. If copyright were to extend out past things like the melody to really cover the other parts that make up the feel of a song, there’s no way an era, or a city, or a movement could have a certain sound. Without that, we lose the next disco, the next Motown, the next batch of protest songs.[42]

Finally, as written by composer Ron Mendelsohn, owner of production music company Megatrax:

All musical works, indeed all creative works, are born from a spark of inspiration. It is essential for musicians and composers to be able to find this spark anywhere and everywhere without having to constantly look over their shoulders and worry about being sued. To extinguish this spark, to replace it with fear, is to stifle creativity and deprive society of the next generation of great artists and new music. And yes, artists should be able to talk freely about their sources of inspiration without having to worry about their exuberant proclamations being played back as damning evidence in a court of law.[43]

VII.  The Celebration Of Influences Should Be Encouraged

Mendelsohn’s last point is an especially important one. In addition to the potential adverse impact that this case is certain to have on future songwriters, this case will have a lasting effect on past songwriters and musicians as well. Many interviews were played during the trial in which Pharrell Williams and Robin Thicke both expressed that they loved Marvin Gaye, and wanted, as an homage to him, to create a song that had the feel of “Got To Give It Up.” One might ask if there could possibly be a better legacy for a songwriter than to inspire other songwriters to write music and expressly pay homage to him or her for inspiring that musicpublicly, on national television and elsewhere, keeping his name and his music alive for generations to come.

Yet there can be no doubt in this case that the jury was swayed, at least in part (arguably in large part), by hearing such interviews. Ultimately, the jury held Williams and Thicke liable for copyright infringement and rendered an award of several million dollars against them. It is difficult to imagine a songwriter that comes along after this case publicly affording any credit to any influence that he or she receives from any songwriter.

Conclusion

It is apparent that the denial of summary judgment and the ultimate verdict in this case were based upon an undeniable musical inspiration, the overall look and feel of the two works, and a series of random, coincidental, and unimportant alleged similarities between unprotectable elements in the sound recording of “Got To Give It Up” (random elements that were not in the “Got To Give It Up” deposit copy) and “Blurred Lines.”

Many important popular songs in the modern era would not exist today if they were subjected to the same scrutiny as “Blurred Lines” was in this case. This case, which was based upon such factorswith no similarities in melody, with virtually no similarities with the music notation on the actual deposit copy, and simply based on a “groove”will clearly stifle future creativity, will undoubtedly diminish the legacies of past songwriters, and, without a doubt, is antithetical to the principals of the Copyright Act.

 

 

 


[*] *. This article was adapted from an amicus curiae brief that was filed by the author on behalf of 212 songwriters, composers, musicians, and producers, in connection with the appeal of the Blurred Lines Case to the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. See generally Williams v. Gaye, 885 F.3d 1150 (9th Cir. 2018) [hereinafter the Blurred Lines Case].

[†] †. Edwin F. McPherson is a partner at McPherson Rane LLP in Century City, California, specializing in entertainment litigation, intellectual property litigation, and crisis management. He attended much of the trial in the Blurred Lines Case, has given numerous lectures on the case, and submitted an amicus curiae brief to the Ninth Circuit on behalf of 212 songwriters, composers, musicians, and composers.

 [1]. Though Williams and Thicke were both found liable for copyright infringement, T.I. was exonerated by the jury. Although the district court purported to overrule the jury and brought back in T.I. and the Interscope-related entities as defendants, the Ninth Circuit reversed that portion of the District Court’s judgment. The Blurred Lines Case, 885 F.3d at 1182–83.

 [2]. In the two days in which the jury deliberated, they did not once listen to any of the music.

 [3]. 17 U.S.C. § 102(b) (2018).

 [4]. Those theories were difficult enough (if not impossible) for trained musicians to understand; it is difficult to imagine how the Court could possibly fully grasp their import.

 [5]. Even to a person with no musical training, the concept of certain music being implied by certain other music sounds a bit suspect; however, to anyone with a modicum of musical training, this concept is absurd.

 [6]. Similarly, this concept makes no musical sense whatsoever.

 [7]. Joint Rule 16(b) Report at 5–6, Williams v. Bridgeport Music, Inc., LA CV13-06004 JAK (AGRx), 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 193633.

 [8]. This illustrates an important (perhaps rhetorical) question for the courts and the music world in general. If the executives at EMI/Jobete, whose job it is to assess copyright claims involving their songwriters, did not believe that “Blurred Lines” infringed “Got To Give It Up,” and if the expert musicologist that EMI/Jobete hired to assist it in that determination did not believe that “Blurred Lines” infringed “Got To Give It Up,” and if the lawyer that was hired by EMI/Jobete believed so strongly that there was no infringement that he advised EMI/Jobete that suing Williams and Thicke might very well be a violation of Rule 11, how in the world could a songwriter, with no experience policing copyrights, no experience as an expert musicologist, and no legal training, determine that his or her own song might be an infringement?

 [9]. The Blurred Lines Case, 885 F.3d at 1183.

 [10]. Id. at 1182.

 [11]. Id. at 1165–66.

 [12]. Id. at 1166–67 (citations omitted).

 [13]. Id. at 1170.

 [14]. Id.

 [15]. Id. at 1172.

 [16]. Id. at 1174.

 [17]. Id. at 1175 (citing Westinghouse Elec. Corp. v. Gen. Circuit Breaker & Elec. Supply, Inc., 106 F.3d 894 (9th Cir. 1997) and El-Hakem v. BJY, Inc., 415 F.3d 1068 (9th Cir. 2005)).

 [18]. Id.

 [19]. Id. at 1183 (Nguyen, J., dissenting).

 [20]. Id.

 [21]. Id.

 [22]. Although this rule makes sense in the context of proving “copying” (access plus substantial similarity), when there is limited or a low likelihood of access, it is absurd to suggest that, if access is 100% proved, no similarity whatsoever is necessary. Moreover, this “test” also ignores the requirement, independent of proof of copying, that protectable elements of the two works must be substantially similar in order to prove actual infringement through the extrinsic test. In other words, copying alone does not constitute infringement if the elements copied are not protectable. There must be substantial similarity in copyrightable expression. The inverse ratio rule is so controversial that, in an amended decision, the Ninth Circuit deleted the paragraph from its original opinion discussing the rule and its application. Compare The Blurred Lines Case, 885 F.3d at 1163, with Williams v. Gaye, 895 F.3d 1106, 1119 (9th Cir. 2018).

 [23]. The inverse ratio analysis has been criticized and rejected in other jurisdictions. For instance, in Arc Music Corp. v. Lee, 296 F.2d 186, 188 (2d Cir. 1961), the Second Circuit ruled that access will not make up for a lack of similarity, “and an undue stress upon that one feature can only confuse and even conceal this basic requirement.”

 [24]. The Blurred Lines Case, 885 F.3d at 1182 (majority opinion).

 [25]. Commencement 1999, Berklee, https://www.berklee.edu/commencement/past (last visited Dec. 1, 2018).

 [26]. Sam Stryker, Lady Gaga and the Glam Rock Men Who Inspire Her, Mic (Nov. 14, 2013), https://mic.com/articles/73263/lady-gaga-and-the-glam-rock-men-who-inspire-her#.YIo314rrY.

 [27]. Neil McCormick, Leon Russell Interview for the Union with Elton John, Telegraph (Oct. 13, 2013), https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/rockandpopfeatures/8062253/Leon-Russell-interview-for-The-Union-with-Elton-John.html.

 [28]. Ten Artists and Bands that Inspired the Beatles, Reader’s Digest U.K.,

https://www.readersdigest.co.uk/culture/music/ten-artists-and-bands-that-inspired-the-beatles
(last visited Jan. 16, 2019).

 [29]. Elvis Presley Biography, Graceland, https://www.graceland.com/elvis/biography.aspx (last visited Dec. 1, 2018)              .

 [30].  Marvin Gaye Influences, Shmoop, https://www.shmoop.com/whats-going-on/influences
.html (last visited Jan. 16, 2019).

 [31]. See generally Graham Betts, Motown Encyclopedia (2014).

 [32]. Gaste v. Kaiserman, 863 F.2d 1061, 1068 (2nd Cir. 1988).

 [33]. Darrell v. Joe Morris Music Co., 113 F.2d 80, 80 (2nd Cir. 1940) (per curiam).

 [34]. What the Gayes’ musicologists did in this case to avoid summary judgment (and ultimately at trial) is the equivalent of an expert in a film case testifying that the word “destruction” was used four times in the first scene of one film and two times in the second scene of the second film. They might go on to say that the word “destruction” was followed by the words “of a house” in the first film, and “of a truck” in the second film, along with an explanation that “house” and “truck” both have five letters, and many trucks are parked at houses. Such testimony would be readily dismissed, if not laughed at, in a film case, and the motion for summary judgment granted. Unfortunately, the musical equivalent—which is essentially what occurred in this case—is not as easy to understand and dismiss.

 [35]. Music law is further hampered by the Ninth Circuit’s intrinsic test, in which a lay jury is asked to determine the “total concept and feel” of the works in question. Such a test simply does not work in a music context. One might argue that virtually every disco song has the same “total concept and feel.” One could argue that every blues song or every rap song has the same “total concept and feel.” This notion is antithetical to the reality of musicians’ inspirations and borrowing and is entirely preventative of creativity.

 [36]. Duke Law School music copyright law professor Jennifer Jenkins, after noting that “Got to Give It Up” was inspired by Johnnie Taylor’s song “Disco Lady,” writes that “Gaye cannot claim copyright over material that he himself borrowed.” As professor Jenkins further discusses: “Copyright only covers ‘original, creative expression.’ Anything Marvin Gaye copied directly from his Motown, funk, or disco predecessors is not ‘original’ and should be off the table.” She writes further: “In addition, copyright’s “scènes à faire” doctrine allows anyone to use the defining elements of a genre or style without infringing copyright, because these building blocks are ‘indispensible’ to creating within that genre . . . . Many of the musical elements common to ‘Blurred Lines’ and ‘Got To Give It Up’ fall into these unprotectable categories.” Jennifer Jenkins, The “Blurred Lines” of the Law, Ctr. for the Study of the Pub. Domain, https://law.duke.edu/cspd/blurredlines (last visited Nov. 1, 2018).

 [37]. This is another practice that should be discontinued. Expert witnesses, if they are to maintain any credibility of non-bias whatsoever, should be allowed to testify for whatever side they agree with, and not be immediately conflicted out from testifying in favor of the second party/attorney that calls them just because they were second. The Court could also retain its own expert(s) pursuant to Rule 706 of the Federal Rules of Evidence.

 [38]. Twentieth Century Music Corp. v. Aiken, 422 U.S. 151, 156 (1975).

 [39]. Fogerty v. Fantasy, Inc., 510 U.S. 517, 527 (1994) (emphasis added).

 [40]. Dr. Harrington has analyzed more than 230 of Marvin Gaye’s songs and uses his music in classes that he has taught. He agrees that the “groove” and “bounce” of the two works are similar, but is adamant that “[o]bjectively, there is NO protectable expression (melody, harmony, etc.) that has been copied by Thicke” and that “[t]here is no copying of copyrightable expression involving harmonies of the two songs. What is extremely close between the songs is the tempo . . . but tempo is not copyrightable.” Peter Alhadeff & Shereen Cheong, The Lesson of Blurred Lines, Music Bus. J. (Feb. 2016), http://www.thembj.org/2016/01/the-lesson-of-blurred-lines; see also Dr. E Michael Harrington, Good News for Robin, Katy & One Direction: Music Copyright Expert Says Nobody’s Ripping Off Anybody, E Michael Music (Aug. 19, 2013), http://www.emichaelmusic.com/good-news-for-robin-katy-one-direction-music-copyright-expert-says-nobodys-ripping-off-anybody.

 [41]. Alhadeff & Cheong, supra note 40.

 [42]. Adam Pasick, A Copyright Victory for Marvin Gaye’s Family Is Terrible for the Future of Music, Quartz (Mar. 10, 2015), https://qz.com/360126/a-copyright-victory-for-marvin-gayes-family-is-terrible-for-the-future-of-music.

 [43]. Ron Mendelsohn, Will the “Blurred Lines” Decision “Stifle Creativity”?, Megatrax (Apr. 1, 2015), http://blogtrans.megatrax.com/will-the-blurred-lines-decision-stifle-creativity.

 

 

Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)

Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)

The Enduring Distinction between Business Entities and Security Interests – Article by Ofer Eldar & Andrew Verstein

From Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)
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The Enduring Distinction between Business Entities and Security Interests

Ofer Eldar & Andrew Verstein[*]

What are business entities for? What are security interests for? The prevailing answer in legal scholarship is that both bodies of law exist to partition assets for the benefit of designated creditors. But if both bodies of law partition assets, then what distinguishes them? In fact, these bodies of law appear to be converging as increasing flexibility irons out any differences. Indeed, many legal products, such as securitization vehicles, insurance products known as captive insurance, and mutual funds, employ entities to create distinct asset pools. Moreover, recent legal innovations, including “protected cells” (which were created to facilitate such products), further blur the boundaries between security interests and entities, suggesting that convergence has already arrived.

This Article identifies and defends a central distinction between business entities and security interests. We argue that while both bodies of law support asset partitioning, they do so with different priority schemes. Security interests construct asset pools subject to fixed priority, meaning that the debtor is unable to pledge the same collateral to new creditors in a way that changes the existing priority scheme. Conversely, entities are associated with floating priority, whereby the debtor retains the freedom to pledge the same assets to other creditors with the same or even higher priority than existing ones.

The distinction is valuable in understanding financial products such as securitization, captive insurance, and mutual funds. We show that such products are driven by an appetite for assets pools with a fixed priority scheme, and recent legal innovations are primarily designed to meet this need. This distinction is consistent with the intuitive view of entities as managed going concerns and security interests as mere interests in assets. The distinction is also enduring. Despite the apparent convergence of forms, we predict that the distinction we offer will survive legal and technological innovations.

              TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. Entities and Security Interests as
Property Law

II. Our Proposed Distinction: Fixed
versus Floating Priority

A. Only Security Interests Allow Fixed Priority
over an Asset Pool

1. Covenants

2. Structural Priority

3. Charter Provision

4. Creditor Control

B. Only Entities Allow Floating Priority over
an Asset Pool

1. Ex Post Consent

2. Ex Ante Consent

3. Single Creditor

C. The Relative Benefits (and Costs) of Floating
and Fixed Priority

III. Other Potential Distinctions and Why
They Do Not Work

A. Fixed Pools of Assets

B. Filings by Creditors

C. In Rem Rights Against Third Parties

D. Governance Structure

E. Limited Liability

F. Legal Personality

G. Bankruptcy Protection

IV. Explaining the Structure of
Financial Products

A. Securitization

B. Captive Insurance

C. Mutual Funds

V. The Evolution of New Legal Forms

VI. Policy Implications

A. Judicial Treatment of the New Legal Forms

B. Bankruptcy Remoteness for Security Interests

VII. Enduring Legal and Technological
Innovations

Conclusion

 

Introduction

The last decades have brought about significant innovation in the use of business entities in financial structures. While entities have long been used to control risk and organize production, business planners gradually began using them primarily as vessels to hold assets. A prime example of such innovation is securitization. In a standard securitization, a sponsor corporation transfers some of its assets to an entity, which borrows money from creditors and passes the money back to the sponsor as consideration for the assets. In many ways, securitization resembles a secured loan directly to the sponsor. However, an entity is interposed to hold the assets in order to assure creditors of their special claim to the assets.[1] The creative use of entities to pool assets is not limited to securitization vehicles,[2] but also includes other products, such as investment funds[3] and insurance.[4] All of these industries have experienced dramatic growth in recent years amounting to many trillions of dollars.[5] A hallmark of each of these important financial innovations is the partitioning of assets into different pools for the benefit of designated creditors, each with different risk profiles, contained within an entity.

The growing use of entities as a mechanism for pledging a pool of assets has been accompanied by a shift in academic thinking about the role of entities. Historically, law and economics scholars viewed entities primarily as a “nexus of contracts” between a fictional entity and investors, customers, and employees[6] and entity law as a type of standard form contract among such disparate groups.[7] However, the dominant view of late has emphasized the function of entities in patterning creditor rights in ways that no bundle of contracts could practicably achieve.[8] This asset partitioning role is a form of property law because it is good against the world and cannot be accomplished through bilateral contracts.[9] As with the concurrent innovation in business practice, this “property” theory defines the essential role of entities as a legal tool for partitioning assets into distinct pools for the benefit of some creditors relative to others.[10]

Both commercial and scholarly treatment of entities have been enriched by the asset partitioning theory. Business planners use entities in alternative forms of secured lending, and scholars rationalize entities as a species of property law. Yet it is not entirely clear why entities are actually necessary in such settings. Security interests also give creditors priority over identified pools of assets and would seem to provide a suitable foundation for asset-backed finance. Why not just use security interests for the same purpose? Conversely, if entities can substitute for security interests, why ever bother with security interests? The literature has long recognized the potential substitutability of entities and security interests; however, scholars have largely left open the question of whether there is any essential distinction between the two legal forms that would make one optimal relative to the other.[11]  A looming possibility is that there is no essential distinction between entities and security interests and that these two legal forms will ultimately converge.[12]

Recent legal innovations may seem to suggest that this moment of convergence is fast approaching. New legal forms are emerging, which blur the distinction between security interests and entities. For example, a “protected cell company” can issue multiple tranches of notes with each issuance secured by a different pool of assets placed within a protected cell.[13] A single entity consists of multiple protected cells, each cell securing obligations to different classes of creditors. The cells exhibit some entity-like features (for example, they can own property and enter into contracts) without others (for example, they have no board of directors or charter). Not surprisingly, “cells,” “series,” “segregated portfolios,” and other forms are used to economize the costs of creating multiple entities in products where entities are used effectively as security interests (for example, securitization vehicles, investment funds, and captive insurance). They are arguably best understood as new forms of security interest, which share many of the features associated with entities. Regardless of whether these new products are “really” entities or security interests, they have made the distinction between entities and security interests largely elusive.

Despite these developments, this Article challenges the notion that entities and security interests are becoming indistinguishable by offering a novel theory of the distinction between them. We adopt the property theory of entities, but we develop it by preventing the collapse it implies between security interests and business entities. We argue that while both security interest law and entity law create asset partitions, they differ with respect to the priority schemes operating on those pools.

Specifically, we argue that the functional difference between security interests and entities is that entities create floating priority over asset pools while security interests opt the parties into a fixed priority scheme.[14] By floating priority scheme, we mean that the administrator of the assets is generally permitted to pledge the same assets to other creditors with the same or even higher priority than existing ones. Conversely, a fixed priority scheme means that it is not possible for the administrator to pledge the assets in a manner that changes the existing priority scheme, which typically affords a prior claim to the secured party over any other creditors.

From a theoretical perspective, the distinction we offer has five main attractive features. First, it fits well with doctrinal law, which insists that security interests, but not entities, establish fixed priority.[15] Second, it is consistent with the intuitive view of entities as managed going concerns and security interests as mere interests in assets. Third, it is functional in that it illuminates the economic benefits and costs of each priority scheme. Fixed priority reduces the creditors’ costs of evaluating assets, but restricts managerial discretion, whereas floating priority decreases the former, but increases the latter.[16] Fourth, the distinction is essential in the sense that it is not possible to create asset pools with floating priority using only security interests and contractual mechanisms, and likewise, it is impracticable to create asset pools with fixed priority using only entities and contract.[17] Fifth, the distinction is enduring. It not only survives the recent evolution of new legal forms, but we predict it will also survive other innovations that will likely blur the distinction between contract law and property law, such as blockchain technology.

In addition to our theoretical contribution, the distinction between fixed and floating priority has several important practical and explanatory implications. First, it is useful for understanding how entities and security interests are used in different financial structures, primarily securitizations, investment funds, and captive insurance. Taking securitization as an example, much of the literature has focused on the use of entities in such structures. This literature emphasizes that entities are necessary in those structures because they are “bankruptcy remote.”[18] Yet the literature on securitizations seems to have underappreciated the necessity of security interests to securitizations. While most securitizations use entities, all use security interests. This is because without fixed priority, the economic rationale for securitizationsparticularly reducing the costs of evaluating assetswould largely disappear. More surprisingly, we show that demand for fixed priority explains the structure of other financial products, such as mutual funds and captive insurance.

Second, the distinction we propose allows us to better understand the recent evolution of new legal forms. We show that with few exceptions, these forms are better characterized as security interests, and that their evolution is mainly driven by an appetite for fixed priority schemes. In particular, most jurisdictions limit the use of cells to particular financial products (especially securitizations, investment funds, and captive insurance), and through regulation of such products, the administrator of the assets cannot change the priority scheme of the creditors secured by the cells. In this way, we claim that the evolution of the new form does not undermine the distinction between fixed and floating priority, but rather reinforces it.

Third, our account may inform judicial decisionmaking. With the evolution of innovative financial structures and flexible legal forms, courts are called on to characterize these flexible forms and define their scopes. Are the cells entities? Security interests? Without functional principles for such cases, legal results will be either arbitrary or formalistic.[19] Our analysis can guide courts in adjudicating cases that involve such determinations.

Fourth, our analysis suggests that there may be scope for further flexibility in legal forms, primarily security interests. In particular, we recommend according greater bankruptcy remoteness to security interests, at least for certain financial transactions such as securitizations. Such a reform could introduce greater legal certainty at a lower cost.

Our Article proceeds as follows. Part I explains the functional similarities between entities and security interests as asset partitioning technologies and shows how each can often serve as a substitute for the other. Part II explains our thesis that the feature distinguishing entities and security interests is that the former provides a floating priority scheme and the latter provides a fixed priority scheme. Part III discusses alternative candidate distinctions and explains why they are not satisfactory. Part IV lays out the explanatory implications of our view, showing how it sheds light on existing financial products. Part V discusses the evolution of new legal forms, such as protected cell companies. Part VI presents some policy implications. Part VII expresses our view that the analytical distinction we make will survive legal and technological innovations.

I.  Entities and Security Interests as Property Law

Before embarking on the task of articulating a distinction, it is important to highlight the functional similarities of entities and security interests as property law. By property law, we mean that these bodies of law create entitlements that are binding against the world rather than just against those who agree to them. Property law is essential to facilitating asset partitioning, which means shielding a pool of assets from the claims of creditors of other pools of assets.[20]

To illustrate the idea of asset partitioning, it is useful to have in mind a simple example.[21] Consider an individual (the owner”) who wishes to finance several shopping malls. For example, A1 (for “Asset 1”) might be a large outdoor luxury shopping mall in Hawaii, geared to high-end tourists.[22] A2 might be a small, local indoor mall in Oklahoma, which attracts local residents and students at a nearby university.[23] The owner’s financiers are C1 (for “Creditor 1”), C2, C3, and so forth.[24] The simplest arrangement for financing these malls is for the owner to personally own the assets and borrow from the creditors. This arrangement is depicted visually in Figure 1.

Figure 1.  No Partition

 

Alternatively, the owner could place the Hawaiian shopping mall in Entity 1 and cause Entity 1 to borrow only from C1. She could likewise place the Oklahoma mall into Entity 2, to which C2 would lend (see Figure 2). Entities make it possible for a single owner to divide her assets into distinct pools, each of which can be selectively pledged to or withheld from particular creditors.

Figure 2.  Entity Partitioning

 

Organizing the assets in this way, she isolates each creditor’s risk exposure to a specified pool and simultaneously protects each pool from the creditors of other pools. A downturn in tourism in Oahu is bad news for C1; the likely decrease in the value of the Hawaii mall makes her less likely to be repaid. However, tourism is of no concern to C2. His claim on the Oklahoma mall is just as strong as beforehe need not fear that C1 will levy on the Oklahoma mall.

This asset partitioning through the use of entities reduces the costs of appraising the credit risk of the owner and monitoring her.[25] No individual creditor need invest in the capacity to appraise and monitor the debtor’s whole corpus of operations. Instead, each creditor can specialize in one pool of assets, disregarding the others.[26] C1 can specialize in high-end malls in Hawaii, whereas C2 can focus on the local Oklahoma shops.

Security interests can achieve similar asset partitioning to that of entities, with comparable benefits.[27] Imagine that instead of using any entities, the owner borrows and owns the assets personallybut grants security interests in her assets to particular creditors. She grants C1 a security interest in A1, the Hawaiian shopping mall, and she grants C2 a security interest in A2, the Oklahoma shopping mall.

Figure 3.  Security Interest Partitioning

 

In this way, C1’s priority to the Hawaiian shopping center over C2 is assured, as is C2’s priority over C1 to the Oklahoma shopping mall.[28] Pacific tourism does not impact the value of C2’s claim. Likewise, C1 can disregard any local conditions that could affect the Oklahoma mall. As with entities, this structure isolates creditor risk exposure and allows specialization.[29] To be sure, there are some differences between entities and security interests. We discuss these in detail in Part III below.

This asset partitioning function of both entities and security interests is a species of property law because it cannot be practically accomplished through contracts alone. The reason is that contractual promises are bilateral and, unlike property law, do not bind third parties.

Without using security interests or entities, C2 might demand from the owner that C1 (and any future creditors) have no recourse to the Oklahoma mall. But even if the owner agrees to such a contractual term, she may rationally breach it to C2’s detriment. She can get a cheaper interest rate from C1 by offering recourse to all of her assets, including the Oklahoma mall. The owner can also shift assets from one business to another. For instance, the owner could sell a valuable Waikiki property and plow the proceeds into an expansion of the Oklahoma shopping mall, exposing C1 to risk that he did not bargain for. C2 can sue owner for these breaches, but he cannot invalidate C1’s claim to all of the owner’s assets, including the Oklahoma mall, or undo the sale of the Hawaii mall. Any deal between C2 and the owner was a contractual deal, and contracts bind only on those who have notice of them.

C1 would fare better if the owner granted him a security interest or placed the mall in a separate entity.[30] Efforts to move assets across asset partitions, or otherwise shift the assets away from their intended purposes, are constrained by various remedies against wrongful shifting, primarily fraudulent conveyance laws in the case of entities, and encumbrance on the property in the case of security interests.[31] Property law thus solves a multi-lateral commitment problem that contracts alone cannot.

II.  Our Proposed Distinction: Fixed versus Floating Priority

In this Part we identify and defend the respective functions served by entities and security interests that cannot be practicably reproduced by the other form. We argue that although both bodies of law can partition assets, they do so with different rules for updating priority over those assets.

When entities are used to partition assets, they do so without fixing the priority of creditors to the assets. If the pool lacks the resources to fully repay all the creditors, they share ratably in their recovery. The parties can initially agree to a payment hierarchy, so that one creditor gets higher priority than another, but the credit hierarchy is floating because the owner can always update it to undermine the priority of existing creditors by pledging the assets to additional creditors. In contrast, security interests fix priority against later efforts by the owner to grant equal (or higher) priority to other creditors. The typical fixed priority pattern is to prioritize the first perfected secured interest over other claims in the assets.[32]

The fixedness of priority is a ubiquitous feature of security interests. Not only can security interests create priority schemes over a pool of assets, but they always grant fixed priority.[33] Security interests and entities coexist in the world and in particular structures because they offer different and irreplaceable priority schemes for creditors.

In order to show that security interests and entities are truly distinct, we need to show that their functions are distinct, in that each performs an essential role that no other body of law can perform. In Section II.A, we show that one cannot create floating priority asset pools without entity law, and in Section II.B, we explain that it is impossible to create fixed priority that binds third parties without security interests.

Section II.C describes what is at stake in choosing one priority scheme over another. The distinction between fixed and floating priority is economically functional, conferring differing costs and benefits to the parties who use them. We explain the tradeoffs inherent in deploying one body of law or the other.

A.  Only Security Interests Allow Fixed Priority over an Asset Pool

We first argue that security interests, but not entities, can create fixed priority. To draw again on the shopping mall example, we claim that if C2 wishes to have first priority over the Oklahoma mall, only security interests make this possible. If the owner instead partitions her assets by placing the Oklahoma mall in a separate entity, but does not give C2 a security interest over the mall, C2 would not be able to achieve fixed priority over it. We examine four possible techniques to create fixed priority without security interests, none of which succeed.

1.  Covenants

A plainly insufficient strategy is simply to have the owner promise not to take on new creditors as peers to C2. The trouble is that these promises are binding only on the owner, and not any other creditor (such as C3) who lends to the owner. What C2 would like to do, and what contract law does not allow, is to cite the owner’s promise in litigation against C3 to undermine C3’s claim on the assets. C2 may monitor the owner to make sure that her priority is respected, but such monitoring is likely to be very costly, and unrealistic for all but the largest creditors.

2.  Structural Priority

It may be argued that perhaps structural priority, the stacking of entities into nested tiers, can fix the priorities among creditors.[34] Imagine that owner wishes to finance the Oklahoma mall, with a $10 senior loan from C2 and a $10 junior loan from C3. The owner can achieve this result by forming Entity 3, of which she is the sole shareholder, and which owns nothing but shares of Entity 2. Entity 2 is then made the owner of the business assets. In principle, C2 will be repaid if the assets produce $10 because the money is generated by an entity that owes no one except for C2. Only if Entity 2 makes enough money to cover its debts to C2, can it pay dividends up to Entity 3which can use that money to pay C3. As depicted in Figure 4, this structure creates a payment hierarchy.[35]

Figure 4.  Structural Priority

However, structural priority is an imperfect substitute for fixing priorities. Entity 2 can simply take on additional creditors as peers to C2. C2 retains priority over C3, but not over any other future creditors of Entity 2. Covenants not to take on additional creditors are not credible in the same way as discussed above.

3.  Charter Provision

Some scholars have argued that an entity’s charter should be able to affect creditor relations. For example, a corporation’s charter might be amended to specify that it can no longer borrow, or can borrow only junior terms, and to award recovery rights against third parties who frustrate these objectives.[36] C2 could then sue to invalidate as ultra vires any transaction at odds with a priority-fixing charter provision, such as a loan from C3. Unfortunately for C2, courts do not invalidate ultra vires transactions.[37] C3’s interest would remain valid even if it violated a charter provision.[38] Moreover, a charter provision limiting the firm’s ability to borrow is generally not enforceable.[39]

4.  Creditor Control

Another idea would be for C2 to take control of Entity 2, so that C2’s approval would be required for any new borrowing. C2 could then decline to authorize any credit that would undermine C2’s senior priority. C2 could take this control in a number of ways, but one of them would be for the owner to assign her ownership interest in Entity 2 to C2. As controlling shareholder, C2 could select a trusted board that will cater to his or her interests.

However, control is not a practical solution. First, it is at best a solution for just one creditor; it is not feasible for every creditor in the hierarchy to take an absolute assignment and install a board of directors. Second, the controlling creditor exposes itself to liability.[40] Third, creditor control is likely to be inefficient. Usually, the owner has the best incentives and expertise to select and discipline managers of the assets.

Fourth, creditor control sets in motion a problem of debt liquidity. C2 knows better than anyone else whether she has been effective in enforcing the priority scheme. Perhaps C2 has allowed a senior or peer claim to arise, out of error or in exchange for side-payment. When C2 wishes to sell her interest to a new investor, that new investor will not know whether C2 truly has the senior priority she claims to have.[41] The new investor will discount C2’s interest accordingly, in a way that would not occur if C2’s priority was public knowledge.[42]

B.  Only Entities Allow Floating Priority over an Asset Pool

We have argued that entities cannot create fixed priority, and we now show that the complementary limitation applies to security interests, such that floating priority over asset pools would be impracticable without entities. Thus, the only way for the owner to create floating priority as to the Oklahoma mall is for her to place it within an entity, as in Figure 2. Figure 5 demonstrates that, in principle, security interests (sans entity) can achieve asset partitioning. However, security interests necessarily deny the owner the power to raise additional funds by pledging the collateral to later creditors (C3, C4, and so forth). To prove our claim, we consider three non-entity techniques for creating floating priority over asset pools. All three fail.

 

Figure 5.  Security Interest Partion with Multiple Creditors

 

1.  Ex Post Consent

The owner could freely add creditors to Asset 2 if the existing creditors always agree to subordinate themselves when the owner wishes to pledge the same asset to a new creditor (C4). Then the Oklahoma mall will serve as ratable collateral to C2, C3, and C4, all of whom will recover ahead of C1. Yet securing creditor-by-creditor consent is impractical for large ventures with millions of creditors (including all customers, suppliers, and investors). Each new creditor would necessitate unique subordination agreements from the entire existing network. Moreover, it is unrealistic to assume that creditors will assent to subordination. Some might like to freeride on other creditors, retaining their priority even as other creditors accept subordination. Others might simply hold out, demanding payment in exchange for consent. As many creditors make these types of strategic calculations, the costs of obtaining ex post consent will likely be preclusive.

Transaction costs continue to mount since each new creditor will have to expend resources verifying that subordination of all previous creditors has been accomplished. If the owner fails to secure a valid subordination from C2, then C2 will retain higher priority over C4. To actually protect her interest, C4 would have to vet each purported subordination agreement to make sure that it is valid and effective, and she would have to check whether any creditors’ subordination agreements are missing from the stack. Thus, ex post consent creates a staggering due diligence burden for later creditors.

2.  Ex Ante Consent

The owner may bargain with a potential creditor for the right of the owner to add new peer creditors that will share with him equal priority to the assets. For example, imagine that at the time of contracting, C2 agreed to subordinate herself to any other creditor who met certain specified conditions. Among those conditions would be acceptance of an identical subordination agreement. Thus, C2 would hold the first lien on the Oklahoma mall, but would be a peer to C3 if C3 agreed to subordinate herself to all similarly agreeing creditors. When C4 arrives, she will have an incentive to adopt a similar clause. If she does so, then C2 and C3 will automatically relinquish their higher priority. If she fails to adopt such an agreement, the prior subordination agreements will not apply to her, and she will therefore fall behind C2 and C3. If all of them comply, the result is that each creditor would share ratably in the Oklahoma mall.

Yet this solution also falls apart in light of the same problems that plagued the ex post solution. It is possible that C4 will not want to join the consortium. Failing to do so will place her lower in priority than C2 and C3but it will preserve her status against all later creditors.[43] The fact that some creditors could rationally opt out of the arrangement resuscitates diligence problems, as later creditors demand assurances that all earlier creditors have opted in to the equality scheme.

3.  Single Creditor

Another more complicated ex ante technique would be to try to run all of a project’s financing through a single creditor (C2).[44] C2 takes a first lien over the Oklahoma mall to secure all present and all future claims by C2, even claims acquired by assignment from subsequent creditors nominated by the owner. When the owner borrows from C3, she nominates C3’s claim as eligible for assignment. C3 assigns the claim to C2 (in exchange for a non-recourse claim against C2 secured by the very claim assigned to C2). The new loan now stands as equal priority to C2’s original claim because the security interest covers all claims held by C2. This seems to create floating priority because the owner has the power to change the priority of the creditors by assigning new claims to C2. Figure 6 depicts this arrangement.[45]

Nevertheless, this clever maneuvering is unlikely to be a good substitute for floating priority. The apparent ratable priority disappears whenever the later creditors want to make a claim. Recall that the claims against the owner are equal priority only when in C2’s hands. Suppose C2 ceases to pay C3 or C4, for example, if the owner does not pay C2 with respect to their respective claims. In this case, recovery by C3 and C4 is limited to the claims (against the owner) that they transferred to C2. Upon repossessing them, they drop back into the lower priority earned by their order of perfection. Thus, fixed priority in reinstated whenever priority ends up mattering.

Figure 6.  Security Interest Partition with Lead Creditor

 

More importantly, courts resist schemes such as the one depicted in Figure 6. In In re E.A. Fretz Co., a creditor attempted to create floating priority by entering into security agreements that purported to secure the loans not only by that creditor, but also loans by the creditor’s “present or future affiliates,” and covered debt owed by the debtor that the creditor may have obtained “by assignment or otherwise.”[46] The creditor then obtained notes from its affiliated creditors who advanced funds to the debtor.[47] The creditor claimed that all affiliated creditors were covered by the security interest, such that they shared ratably in the secured assets (and ahead of thirdparty creditors).

However, the Fifth Circuit held that notwithstanding the security agreements, the subsidiaries could not benefit from the parent’s prioritized security interest.[48] The court held that Article 9 does not permit “‘floating secured parties,’ that is, an open-ended class of creditors with unsecured and unperfected interests who . . . can assign their claims to a more senior lienor and magically secure and perfect their interests under an omnibus security agreement and financing statement.”[49] The court reasoned that allowing such conduct would disrupt commercial transactions to an unwarranted and unnecessary degree[,][50] presumably because it would undermine the fixed scheme created by security interests.

C.  The Relative Benefits (and Costs) of Floating and Fixed Priority

In this Section, we elaborate on the key benefits and costs associated with fixed and floating priorities. Ultimately, the optimal priority scheme depends on a trade-off between reducing the costs of evaluation through fixed priority and the benefits of maintaining managerial discretion to finance the business.

As discussed above, reducing creditors’ costs of evaluating assets is probably the most often cited benefit of asset-partitioning.[51] Fixed priority reduces these costs even further. Using again our simplified example, suppose the Oklahoma shopping mall is placed within Entity 2 owned by the owner, and C2 lends to Entity 2, as in Figure 2. Compare this with a situation whereby C2 lends to the owner and gets a security interest in the shopping mall (A2), as in Figure 3. In both cases, C2 will have priority over C1. However, in the first case, C2’s claim to the shopping mall in the event of default will be diluted by the claims of any other creditors to Entity 2, say C3, C4, and so forth. On the other hand, if C2 has a security interest, she can generally collect on the shopping mall, without worrying about any other creditors, who will have to claim against the other assets of the owner or whatever value is left in A2 once C2 is satisfied. As a result, C2 does not need to spend as much resources on evaluating the creditworthiness of the owner and the owner’s management of the business. In contrast, if the owner can borrow from other creditors through Entity 2, C2 must expend the costs of assessing ex ante the quality of the management by the owner and monitor the business to make sure that the owner doesn’t excessively leverage Entity 2. C2 must also check whether the owner uses the proceeds of all loans (not just the loan from C2) for productive purposes. If C2 fails to do so, the value of her claim against Entity 2 will be diluted.

Against the savings in evaluation costs, parties must tradeoff the value of managerial discretion. Under floating priority, the owners retain the right to take on new creditors with the same priority. Fixed priority imposes constraints on the owner’s subsequent borrowings. Subsequent lenders will be more hesitant to lend if they stand lower in priority than earlier secured creditors, or will demand higher interest rates. This can be inefficient if it hampers a firm’s ability to raise funds for productive activity.

For many operating companies, the managers (on behalf of the owner) need flexibility to respond to changing circumstancesadjusting the company’s assets and liabilities accordingly. It could be very costly for the business to give up this flexibility in terms of future borrowing. The creditors in this case are effectively lending against the goingconcern value of the company, and such value is a function of managerial discretion. In fact, even the creditors would be harmed by unduly impairing the ability of managers to obtain more financing, because such financing could be essential for enhancing the goingconcern value of the business.

As one extreme example, consider the value of flexibility for a leveraged buyout (“LBO”). In an LBO, the stock of the company is sold to a new buyer, typically a private equity firm, which obtains financing from a creditor using as security all the assets of the business. Thus, an LBO involves a comprehensive updating of the priority of all existing creditors by subordinating them to a single creditor. If all priorities were fixed, it would be difficult to effect an LBO. Creditors would be reluctant to finance these risky transactions if they stood last in line behind all existing creditors. Yet LBOs have historically yielded significant profits for shareholders and increased efficiency of firms.[52] Floating priority reserves for managers the option to undertake an LBO, which may be a valuable option for some companies.

Fixed priority is more valuable in two main circumstances. The first is when the value of managerial discretion is limited. The simplest example is a home mortgage. Creditors could finance individual homes by placing the house in an entity without a security interest and extending the loan to the entity. However, they do not use this alternative form of asset partitioning. Instead, mortgages (that is, security interests) are ubiquitous in residential finance transactions. The reason is in part that managerial discretion is a bug, not a feature, in these consumer transactions. The owner of an entity would be able to pledge the house to other creditors, a decision unlikely to be valuable for the bank-creditor. Homeowners are unlikely to be skilled business people. To the contrary, a homebuyer is more likely to engage in undue risk or personal consumption. The costs to the creditor of monitoring the other loans of the homeowner would be extremely high. Without security interests, debtors would be tempted to take on negative expected value projects, pledging existing collateral for increasingly risky ventures.[53]

The second circumstance is when debt liquidity is critical. If debt can be sold in the secondary market, the owner can obtain better credit terms. Debt is more liquid when its priority is fixed. The reason is that if buyers had to undertake expensive appraisal and monitoring of the creditworthiness of the owner, the transaction costs of buying the debt would be higher. Consider a creditor that buys a home mortgage from the original lender (or more likely, buys many home mortgages from many lenders). The home mortgage would be difficult to assign if the buyer in the secondary market needs to accrue substantial costs in monitoring the homeowner.

Secondary sales are subject to an adverse selection problem, which is the risk that the sellers are only selling the worst debt and keeping the best for themselves. For example, buyers may be concerned that the owner has pledged the house to additional creditors. If the priorities to the underlying assets cannot be undermined by the owner, then buyers need not investigate whether the owner has taken such an action. At least one study confirms that that security interests improve liquidity, by showing that secured bonds have higher liquidity than unsecured bonds, controlling for various bond characteristics, even including the rating of the bonds.[54]

III.  Other Potential Distinctions and Why They Do Not Work

We showed in Part II that the distinction between fixed and floating priority may serve as the distinction between entities and security interests. An essential distinction must provide a meaningful economic function that cannot be accomplished by a creative use of the other legal form and other bodies of laws, primarily contract and agency law. In this Part we show that other potential distinctions do not satisfy these criteria. Nevertheless, we briefly explain why such characteristics are more likely to follow from or accompany legal pools with fixed or floating priority, as applicable: many familiar features of both bodies of law work to support the essential distinction. Thus, these other potential distinctions are often complements to our fixed/floating distinction.

A.  Fixed Pools of Assets

Security interests typically attach to identified assets, such as a home or a shopping mall. This is reflected in the U.C.C., which prohibits a blanket pledge of all the assets of any description and requires a more specific description of the particular assets which are covered by the security agreement.[55]

However, it is unlikely that specificity of the pool of assets is the distinguishing feature of security interests. For one thing, security interests allow floating asset pools. The U.C.C. does allow floating liens over assets that cover both present and future (“afteracquired”) assets.[56] Creditors also commonly take interests in the proceeds of the assets, meaning the cash for which items are sold and whatever that cash is spent on.[57] Moreover, other jurisdictions go even further by allowing security interests to float over the whole business.[58] On the other hand, some entity-based transactions such as securitizations are designed to restrict any change in the pool of assets.[59]

It is not surprising, though, that security interests are associated with more specific or clearly defined sets of assets. Creditors who seek fixed priority are taking steps to support specialized monitoring and facilitate valuation in a secondary market. Generally, if the pool of assets is subject to drastic changes, the monitoring efficiencies associated with fixed priority may be lost.

B.  Filings by Creditors

Adding secured creditors may be cumbersome. For example, Article 9 typically requires filing a new financing statement that lists the new creditor by name.[60] Entity-based pools can take on new creditors without filing. However, filing obligations are unlikely to be material.[61] Scholars have noted that, in practice, the cost of filing affects the decision of whether to secure a loan “only in very rare cases.”[62] Further, as information technology improves, recording and verification costs are likely to decrease.[63] Moreover, even entities must make frequent filings.[64]

Although filing cannot serve as a principled distinction between the two bodies of law, requiring it makes sense for security interests, but not entities.[65] Filing through a registry gives notice to creditors about those who have fixed priority to the relevant asset pool. This information is likely relatively stable. Conversely, information about the identity of unsecured creditors who have floating priority is likely to be unhelpful to other creditors because the manager of the assets can change their identity at any time.

C.  In Rem Rights Against Third Parties

Security interest law gives secured parties a remedy against third parties.[66] When a lien attaches to an asset, that lien follows the asset even if it is sold. If the debtor defaults, the creditor can foreclose on the asset,[67] even if it is in the hands of new, potentially innocent owners.[68] Both discourage unauthorized shifting of encumbered assets and protect the creditor if such shifting occurs.[69] This type of right against third parties is typically referred to as the “in rem” quality of property law, as opposed to “in personam” rights. The latter are created by contract law and are binding only on the contracting parties and, sometimes, those on notice of the contracts.

Yet the advantages of security interests in this respect are relative rather than absolute. Entity law can also give an asset pool’s creditors a claim against third parties, so it is also in rem. When assets are owned by an entity, efforts to sell or pledge them are subject to fraudulent conveyance law, which invalidates transfers that are intended to frustrate creditors.[70] It also invalidates transfers for less than reasonable value when the debtor becomes insolvent.[71] True, rights granted by fraudulent conveyance law may be less intrusive to third parties than those granted by security interest law because they only disrupt bad-faith transfers or too-good-to-be true transactions. But this is only a difference in degree rather than a unique function of either entities or security interests.

To the degree that security interests provide creditors a more dependable claim against third parties who come to possess the collateral, this is best thought of as a detail of our account rather than a competitor to it. Security interests create fixed priority schemes, in which managers are not permitted to lower the relative status of a creditor as to certain collateral. Just as managers may not impair the rights of a secured creditor by promising another creditor higher priority, managers may not impair them by selling the assets free of liens and encumbrances. The fact that security interests “follow” property into the hands of third parties is an entailment of fixed priority. A rule fixing creditor priority against subsequent creditors fixes it against purchasers, a fortiori.

Likewise, it is not surprising that the remedy against shifting assets in entities is usually less exacting than that for security interests. When the manager has discretion to update the pool of creditors, it is harder to define the scope of the assets, and therefore it is more difficult to determine which asset transfers are detrimental to creditors. Conversely, when the assets are well defined (as is more likely when creditors have fixed priority), it is efficient to give the secured creditors a direct claim to the assets without a legal process that examines the motivation behind the transfer of those assets.

D.  Governance Structure

Entities typically require the appointment of dedicated decisionmakers and prescribe the duties and powers of such decisionmakers.[72] For example, corporations must appoint a board, and the board has fiduciary duties to the owners. Nonetheless, it is fairly easy to opt out of these rules, even in a standard corporation.[73] Moreover, entities, such as the general partnership and the member-managed Limited Liability Company (“LLC”), do not even have default centralized management or detailed governance provisions.[74] Many financial structures exist in which entities are used as shells without any meaningful governance structure, and the management of assets within the entity is outsourced to an outside manager, for example, a mutual fund manager or a servicer of securitized loans.[75] Moreover, a security agreement could contractually provide for the appointment of a manager for the secured assets and specify the manager’s duties and responsibilities. Accordingly, governance provisions can be constructed without an entity.

That said, governance structure is understandably more likely in entities. Asset pools with floating priority require management with discretion to update the priority of the creditors. It makes sense to impose on those managers some default set of duties to play their part in good faith. Detailed governance rules are less important for administering assets whose creditors have fixed priority because no updating is required.

E.  Limited Liability

Limited liability protects owners from the contract and tort claimants of the enterprise.[76] It is the most commonly cited benefit conferred by the use of legal entities.[77] In contrast, secured creditors typically have recourse to the unsecured assets of the owner.[78]

Nevertheless, limited liability is an imperfect distinction. First, an owner can obtain most forms of limited liability by simply bargaining for a waiver or non-recourse provision from creditors.[79] Second, limited liability is far from universal in entities. General partnerships (and general partners of limited partnerships) lack it altogether. Guarantees by individual owners or parent corporations, which effectively nullify limited liability, are pervasive across industries.[80] Moreover, limited liability does not apply to owners who personally control the business or when the entity’s personnel act on the owner’s behalf.[81] Some entities have some advantage in limiting liability to involuntary creditors who have no contractual relationship with the owner.[82] However, firms that have very few tort creditors (such as financial firms) nonetheless make extensive use of subsidiaries.[83] Even in industrial companies where torts could matter,[84] companies operated for hundreds of years without limited liability.[85]

Though the functional distinction of entities relative to security interests cannot boil down to limited liability, our theory nevertheless helps explain why entities often provide limited liability and security interests do not. Security interest-defined pools typically do not have managers; an owner actively managing the assets of such a pool is unlikely to be shielded by limited liability. Moreover, owners of an entity benefit more from limited liability because they would otherwise be liable for some unauthorized actions taken by the separate managers of the assets, who due to floating priority, have discretion to undertake a wide range of potentially risky transactions.

F.  Legal Personality

Entity law confers separate legal personality on asset pools, which can then own assets in their own name, sue, and be sued. However, legal personality on its own does not serve a meaningful economic function. For example, legal personality allows Entity 1 to sue individuals who damage the Hawaii mall, but that same suit could have been brought by the owner if she owned the mall in her individual capacity (as in Figure 3).

Another variant of that argument is that the bankruptcy process cannot attach to asset pools without legal personality.[86] Bankruptcy is arguably unique in that it collectively settles the claims of all creditors of the entity.[87] However, there is an equivalent process that can be applied to security interests: receivership. A receiver appointed following a motion by secured creditors may take control of some or all of a debtor’s assets.[88] The priority of claims in a receivership proceeding is similar to that applied in bankruptcy.[89] Although unsecured creditors generally do not take an active role in the receivership, they may be parties to receiverships,[90] and the receiver must protect their interests.[91] Thus, the law provides security-based pools a functionally similar process to that which is based on legal personality.

While legal personhood cannot serve as the functional distinction, it nevertheless makes sense for entities to have personhood because personhood is often useful for asset pools with a dedicated management. It makes less sense to sue an asset pool in its own name if the manager is also the owner of that pool, as in a typical security interest partition. Likewise, there is little gained by letting an asset pool sue in its own name if it is managed by an owner who is already able to sue in her own name. On the other hand, it likely most efficient to allocate the power to sue in the name of assets to entities, as they typically have dedicated management that is best positioned to deploy and protect the assets.

G.  Bankruptcy Protection

Although entities and security interests perform the same asset partitioning role, it may be argued that entities have the additional advantage of bankruptcy protection.[92] If an entity’s owner becomes insolvent, the owner’s personal creditors cannot usually force bankruptcy or liquidation of the entity’s assets; at best, they can take the owner’s ownership interests over the entity. In entity structures like those in Figure 2, C2’s collateral is unaffected if the Hawaii mall goes bust. In contrast, the unsecured creditors of an owner can drag the secured assets into liquidation by filing for the bankruptcy of the owner. In Figure 3, C1 could force the owner into bankruptcy along with all her assets, such as the Oklahoma mall. So C2 must evaluate the financial health of the owner and the viability of the Hawaii mall, rather than just the Oklahoma mall.

Nonetheless, we believe that bankruptcy protection cannot serve as the distinction between security interests and entities. First, we believe that it is not accurate to say that entities provide bankruptcy protection.[93] Rather they provide what practitioners call “bankruptcy remoteness.”[94] Entities may make the risk more remote, but there are many circumstances under which one entity is drawn into another’s bankruptcy. For instance, the sale of the receivables might be recharacterized as a loan or a security interest, in which case the assets would not be protected from bankruptcy.[95] The bankruptcy process can be extended to include a set of entities that operate as a group under the doctrine of substantive consolidation.[96] In fact, most public corporations run their various businesses in a way that makes consolidation almost inevitable.[97] Even in a securitization, there is a risk that solvent entities will be impaired by a bankrupt owner. Indeed, this is what happened in the highly publicized In re General Growth Properties Inc. case,[98] on which our figures throughout the paper are based.[99] In that case, the court drew solvent entities (each owning different shopping malls) into the bankruptcy proceedings of their owner (a real estate investment company).[100] General Growth filed for bankruptcy along with a number of its special purpose entities (“SPEs”), some of which were still performing.[101]

Just as entities’ bankruptcy protection is not absolute, security interests’ protection is not trivial,[102] especially for financial transactions that can be structured to take advantage of foreign law.[103] Under English law before 2002, and even after 2002 for certain transactions, holders of a specific type of security interest called the floating charge have the right to effectively block the bankruptcy (called the “administration” in the U.K.) of a company.[104] Instead, the senior creditor may appoint an administrative receivership, under which the security is protected and payments continue even as junior creditors’ claims are addressed. These expansive rights protect one pool from liquidation despite the owners’ financial difficulties.

Covered bondsanother instrument widely used in Europeprovide significant bankruptcy protection without meaningful use of an entity.[105] Covered bonds are similar to secured bonds, granting the creditors priority over obligations that remain on the balance sheet of the issuer. However, covered bonds also enjoy bankruptcy remoteness from the issuer.[106] The other creditors of the issuing entity do not get to interrupt payments to the covered bond in the event of insolvency. Covered bonds achieve this bankruptcy remoteness by way of enabling statutes, rather than by relying primarily on entities.

Moreover, bankruptcy protection is material only when the bankruptcy process disrupts the pre-existing priorities to the asset pools. The bankruptcy process does not necessarily harm the interests of secured creditors. Typically, secured creditors must be paid in full before any unsecured creditors may be paid anything at all,[107] they may be compensated for disruptions due to the bankruptcy process,[108] and senior creditors exercise significant control over the bankruptcy process.[109] To the degree that bankruptcy is disruptive to asset partitioning, this may be a contingent feature of recent American law,[110] rather than an enduring feature.[111] Indeed, it is possible that what partly motivated the emergence of securitization transactions in the 1980s, as an alternative to standard secured lending, is the contraction of the rights of secured creditors in bankruptcy following the 1978 Act to the benefit of unsecured creditors.[112]

Finally, it is worth noting that not all entities offer bankruptcy protection, so the defining feature of an entity cannot be bankruptcy protection. Creditors of a bankrupt partner in a partnership have the power to force liquidation and winding-up (which is equivalent to a bankruptcy) of the partnership by foreclosing on the partner’s interest in the partnership.[113]

While bankruptcy protection does not prove an adequate basis to distinguish these bodies of law, it is somewhat easier to obtain it with entities than security interests. Why? Unlike the other candidate distinctions above, we believe that the policy reasons behind this are questionable.[114] We address this issue below in Part V.

IV.  Explaining the Structure of Financial Products

With the growth in financial innovation, segregating asset pools is a common objective of many financial products. We focus on three areas of financial innovation that have experienced substantial growth in recent decades: securitization, captive insurance, and mutual funds. The basic choice business planers face in creating these asset pools is whether to place them in separate entities or simply give creditors a security interest over these assets. These two options are depicted in Figures 7 and 8.

Figure 7.  Entity Partitioning

     

Figure 8.  Security Interest Partitioning

In essence, this choice is substantially the same as the choice faced by the owner in regards to her shopping malls as we discussed above in Figure 2 and Figure 3. The main difference is that with the professionalization and standardization of these products, the assets are often managed by a distinct management company and are not necessarily owned by the originator of the assets as in the case of the owner’s shopping malls. We have also removed the pictures (of malls) so that Figures 7 and 8 can better capture the common structure in numerous structures, from securitized operating companies to insurance to investment funds.

These areas all involve the use of numerous entities, largely as a form of security interest. The proliferation of entities in these products thus might seem to lend support to the view that entities serve the same function as security interests, and the two forms are functional substitutes.

However, as we show below, in all these financial products, the key structural element is actually a security interest or other law that essentially fixes the priority of the creditors. Without fixed priority, these products would not be viable. The main reason entities are typically used in these structures is because in the United States, security interests are not bankruptcy remote; much recent financial innovation reflects a frustration with this feature. In Part V, we will discuss how even more recent innovations such as protected cell regimes attempt to address this deficiency in security interests.

A.  Securitization

In a securitization, the sponsor corporation sets aside a pool of assets.[115] The company sells those assets to a newly formed special purpose entity (“SPE”).[116] The SPE raises the purchase money by issuing bonds commonly known as asset-backed securities (ABS, or MBS when the asset is a mortgage). Many companies use securitization as their principal mode of financing. We return here to the notable example of General Growth Properties. General Growth owned numerous SPEs, which held shopping malls financed by loans and bonds. Each SPE owned one shopping mall (or a group of them), and the parent entity essentially acted as a management company that specialized in securitizing the assets. The structure was described in Part I, Figure 2, and it is essentially the same structure depicted in Figure 7, except that the SPEs are not necessarily owned by the originator of the assets, but may be independent of it.[117]

The economic rationale for securitization is that the notes are supposed to be informationally insensitive, or safe,[118] so that the noteholders’ costs of evaluating and monitoring the assets are low. This is reflected in the nature of the assets, which are supposed to have predictable cash flows and homogenous risk. There is limited value in managerial discretion at the SPE level, as the SPE is not an operating company.

Securitization practitioners take many steps to ensure low evaluation costs and low managerial discretion. The SPE’s organizational documents and the terms of the notes limit the SPE’s activities to holding the assets and making payments on the notes; managers are not permitted to incur any other debt or pledge the assets to secure the debt of another firm.[119] In the case of General Growth, for example, each SPE held a shopping mall, but the SPE’s board had no discretion to buy more assets, or issue debt at its own discretion; rather, management is outsourced to a management company that simply collects the income and rents out the shops.[120]

However, as discussed above, these contractual provisions, including those set in the SPE’s organizational documents, are insufficient because they are not binding on third parties.[121] Thus, it is crucial for the bondholders to have a security interest in the receivables and, without exception, bondholders in all securitizations do receive a security interest in the assets. The security interest is typically held by an indenture trustee on behalf of the bondholders.[122] This ensures that the bondholders have a fixed priority to the assets. If the SPE issues more debt, that debt will be automatically subordinated to the claims of the original noteholders. If the bondholders had only floating priority with respect to the assets, the SPE would be able to add more creditors with equal priority to the noteholders.

If fixed priority is the goal, why use a special entity? It is not as though the entity is doing “real” work; the entire structure is intended to strip all operational control from the SPEs managers. Nor is it costless to use entities. Each entity has to satisfy the relevant securities regulations, including the filing of a separate prospectus.[123] Parties are willing to bear these costs because entities are “bankruptcy remote.”[124] Bankruptcy remoteness, like fixed priority, is important for creating informationally insensitive notes, and empirical evidence suggests that it is priced into the value of the notes on the market.[125] When the same company manages many different securitization vehicles, the bondholders in one issuance (represented by C1 in Figure 7 and Figure 8) must ensure that the bondholders in the other issuances (i.e. C2) will not be able to drag the pledged assets (i.e. A1) into the bankruptcy of the management company. Because each pool of assets is held by a separate entity, there is less likelihood that it will be included in the bankruptcy of the management company.[126]

If security interests in the United States were bankruptcy remote, there would be no reason to use entities in this process.[127] In this case, the informational efficiencies could be achieved with mere security interests, as in Figure 8. In fact, a type of securitization called whole business securitizations, which is common in England, achieves bankruptcy remoteness without meaningful use of an entity. Rather, it relies on a form of security interest known as the floating charge, which enjoys bankruptcy protection.[128] In this type of securitization, the securitized assets are not transferred to a bankruptcy-remote SPE, but stay with the company.[129] The bondholders are protected from the bankruptcy of the sponsor corporation because due to the floating charge, they indirectly have the right to appoint an administrative receiver and take control of the assets if an unsecured creditor or the company applies for administration (the English equivalent for bankruptcy).[130] The administrative receivership procedure is designed to ensure that the securitized assets continue to operate for the benefit of the creditors, even if the business becomes bankrupt.

There are other examples of security interests thriving with bankruptcy protection, even without an essential link to entities. “Covered bonds” have been much touted as a safer alternative to securitization.[131] Covered bonds are widespread in Europe,[132] and they amount to secured bonds except that they possess appreciable protection from the bankruptcy of the issuer.[133] For financial institutions, this protection is granted by legislative fiat.[134] With this protection, entities are not crucial to the asset partitioning effort. However, statutory covered bonds are usually only issued by financial institutions. When issued by other companies, they face the same obstacles as we described in Part II and make use of entities for the same reasons.

This demonstrates that a security interest that has fixed priority and bankruptcy remoteness could in theory obviate the need for entity-based asset partitioning in securitizations. The fact that entities are substantially absent when security interests suffice further supports the claim that entities are being used only incidentally, as part of a strategy to ensure that fixed priority is maintained in the event of a bankruptcy.

B.  Captive Insurance

Captive insurance is a form of self-insurance, whereby a firm sets aside reserves in order to pre-fund a specific risk, such as product liability, professional liability, or health insurance.[135] Self-insurance is typically used when a firm has homogeneous risk exposures, such that its aggregate, expected losses are reasonably stable and predictable. It is generally cheaper than standard insurance, mainly because the insurance can be better tailored to the needs of the insured, as opposed to standard insurance that reflects industry risk.[136]

In theory, firms can self-insure simply by saving up a reserve fund, but without creating a separate pool of assets. However, when the funds remain under the discretion of the insureds, potential claimants and regulators will not view the reserve as being credibly committed to funding the identified risk.[137] One way to improve the credibility of self-insurance is to form captive insurance companies. The insured firm will set up a separate entity-subsidiary (a “captive”) with capital from the insured. This capital, along with the insurance premium, is used to satisfy potential claims.[138] The management of the subsidiary-entity is contracted out to an insurance management company, which manages many of these entities on behalf of the insureds.

This structure is basically the same as that depicted in Figure 7, in that the assets pledged to the creditorsthat is, the insuredsare placed in separate entities. Similar to securitizations, the assets that the management company manages are partitioned such that each creditorthat is, the insuredhas a priority in his reserve funds over other creditors of the insurance management company.

But, as in securitizations, the use of entities just to partition the assets is not sufficient. One problem with a purely entity-based approach is that entities create floating priority, but insurance customers need fixed priority. There is little value here to managerial discretion since the insured just wants the money safely held for a rainy day, rather than deployed to seek business opportunities. Nor do captive insurance creditors wish to incur any costs in monitoring the use of the assets by the captive insurance company.

To create this fixed priority, the insured needs to have a security interest in the assets of the captive insurance entity, which gives the insured priority over those assets.[139] Moreover, each of the captive entities must be a licensed insurance company, which is typically subject to numerous regulatory restrictions on its ability to incur any indebtedness. For example, under Delaware captive insurance regulation, the captive company is not permitted to incur material debts, make material loans or extensions of credit without regulatory approval, or enter into major transactions without regulatory approval.[140] These limitations, together with a security interest, would appear to fix the priority of the insured to the assets of the captive entity.

But again, if security interests and regulatory restrictions already achieve fixed priority, why do we need entities? For example, the insurance management company could simply own each reserve account on behalf of the insureds and each insured would have a security interest in its account (see Figure 8). In fact, some captive insurance companies have used this structure in order to avoid obtaining a separate insurance license for each entity.

However, without entities, the captive might not be adequately protected from the bankruptcy of the insurance management company. In particular, there would be a risk that claims by other insureds could render the management company insolvent and effect the liquidation of all the captives.[141] The fact that the management company promised C1 priority recourse against A1 (the contents of its cell) is not necessarily binding on C2, or any other creditors of the management company.

Insurance management companies have tried to avoid the costs of setting up separate entities to save the fees for insurance licenses while overcoming the limitations on a security interest approach by creating “rental captives.”[142] In rental captives, the management company issues each insured non-voting preference shares, and the proceeds of the issue are allocated to a specific account, which is also known as a “contractual cell.” Under the insurance policy, the insured is limited to claiming only from the segregated funds in the relevant account. The insured also has a security interest over his account.[143] Moreover, the insured as a preference shareholder in the insurance company enters into a shareholder agreement that (1) specifically limits claims to its respective fund, (2) states that the insured will have no recourse to any other company assets or the funds of other insureds, and (3) provides that such limitations also apply in the liquidation of the captive insurance company.[144]

Through this contractual arrangement, insurance management companies effectively tried to create bankruptcy remoteness without entities. However, this structure faces the same challenges we described in Part II. It essentially requires monitoring by each insured to make sure that the insurance company enters into similar arrangements with all other insuredsotherwise the other insureds could potentially file for the bankruptcy of the company or make claims to assets outside their segregated accounts. Moreover, there remains uncertainty whether in a bankruptcy of the insurance company, the bankruptcy court would respect the security interests of each insured and the relevant contractual limitations.

As in the case of securitizations, security interests with bankruptcy remoteness would make entities redundant in this structure. In fact, as we discuss in Part V, the contractual cells served as the basis for protected cell legislation, which largely addressed the deficiencies of the contractual approach, and provided effective bankruptcy remoteness to the cells.

C.  Mutual Funds

Mutual funds are pools of investment securities that issue only redeemable common stock, which is sold widely to the public and is composed entirely of debt or minority equity holdings in many companies. A unique feature of mutual funds is that the shareholders in these funds cannot sell their shares, but they can always redeem their shares for cash equal to their pro rata share of the net asset value of the fund.[145] Mutual funds must register with the SEC and are regulated by the Investment Companies Act of 1940 (“ICA”).[146] We will focus on open-ended funds, the most common type of mutual funds. The typical structure is for each fund to be formed as an entity, as in Figure 8. The management of all these entities is outsourced to a separate fund management company that manages the investments made by many funds, as with securitizations and captive insurance.[147]

Previous literature has emphasized the use of entities for creating mutual funds.[148] However, the organization and regulation of mutual funds effectively creates fixed priority. The ICA prescribes that such funds can only issue common shares and not senior debt securities, and that they can only take out loans from banks if the ratio of net assets to bank-loan principal is equal to or exceeds 3:1.[149] Thus, although mutual funds can take on some debt, the only true creditors of the funds are essentially its equity investors, and they are for the most part the only claimants on the fund’s assets. These investors have the same prioritythat is, they each have a claim on their pro rata share. The fund cannot issue any other shares that rank higher to them. In fact, the fund cannot issue shares that rank equally to the current investors in their pro rata share. If the fund issues new shares, the new investor has to contribute additional funds, as each investor maintains his or her claim to his or her share of the net asset value of the fund.[150]

The explanation for creating this fixed priority is essentially to lower the evaluation costs for the investors.[151] As is well known, most households now hold a substantial portion of their assets in mutual funds. These investors tend to be very passive and rarely, if ever, engage in any active monitoring or lawsuits.[152] If the fund is underperforming, these investors often just exit by redeeming their shares and possibly buy shares in another fund. If mutual funds had floating priority by allowing the managers to freely issue debt instruments, the investors would need to monitor more carefully, because such issuances would have priority over common equity, and shareholders would be at a risk of losing their pro rata share of the net asset value.

If investors want fixed priority, then why conjure up an entity for each investment fund? The management company could in principle hold all the securities in the name of a single entity, give the investors in each fund a security interest,[153] and require investors to enter into a contract that segregates the assets of each fund.[154] This structure, which is essentially the one depicted in Figure 8, would have the benefit of saving the transaction costs of setting up new entities, including duplication and expense resulting from multiple boards, contracts with service providers, and regulatory filings.[155]

The main purpose for using entities to form funds is bankruptcy remoteness.[156] Each funds investors need to be assured that their fund will not be affected by the claims of other funds investors and other creditors of the fund managers. As with captive insurance, it may in theory be possible to require the investors to enter into a multi-lateral contract, whereby each agrees to limit the liability of the management company to the assets in the relevant fund account. But again, there is no guarantee that the security interest and contract would be respected in a bankruptcy of the management company. Furthermore, the investors in each fund would always need to be alert to the creation of additional funds by the manager and get assurance that the new funds are subject to the same limitations on liability. Accordingly, without security interests that have bankruptcy remoteness, it is much easier to use entities to create mutual funds.

V.  The Evolution of New Legal Forms

The purpose of many financial products is effectively to give fixed priority to a group of creditors. Security interests provide fixed priority, but they must be alloyed with entities because security interests do not adequately protect pools from the owner’s bankruptcy. If security interests developed to allow bankruptcy remoteness, they could supplant the role that entities play in these structures. In fact, recent legal innovations appear to be specifically designed to address this void.

Although there has been significant academic focus on the evolution of entity law,[157] the evolution of novel security interests has been largely overlooked. These forms evolved primarily from the late 1990s in off-shore jurisdictions, but they have also been adopted in many U.S. states, including Delaware.[158] The key feature of these forms is that they allow certain entities to subdivide their assets, pledging individual pools of assets to individual creditors. These forms first appeared as a solution to the high costs of setting up entities for captive insurance purposes, which also include the fees for insurance licenses for each captive entity.[159] But they have been increasingly used to set up mutual funds, securitization products, and even real estate firms.

These entities are often called protected cell companies and the individual pools are often called cells or protected cells, although some jurisdictions use other names, such as segregated portfolio companies and segregated portfolios, respectively.[160] In the US, business planners may also use the series trust and series LLC, which allow these entities to form separate asset pools called series. Figure 9 shows the structure of entities that have the power to create these instruments. The entity itself may be a protected cell company or a series LLC. The assets are placed in the cells or the series, and they are pledged for the benefit of specific creditors, just like in the case of entities and security interests. For convenience, we will refer to all types of such asset pools as cells, but our claims will also apply to other types, such as the series or segregated portfolios.

Figure 9.  Protected Cell Partitioning

 

The asset pools within the entity (the cells) exhibit properties of both bodies of asset partitioning law. Like entities, they do not require creditors to define the assets in the pool or file a financing statement (in other words, the assets are floating), and they usually limit the liability of creditors to the assets of the cell. On the other hand, similar to security interests, they do not have a dedicated management or elaborate governance rules (other than those that regulate the asset segregation), and with few exceptions, they do not have separate legal personality.

Nonetheless, most of these legal forms are better viewed as security interests, because managers for most of these legal forms lack the ability to update creditor priority within each cell, and hence the cells exhibit fixed priority. Many of these forms are limited to specific uses for either captive insurance, investment funds, or securitizations. As such, they are subject to legal mandates, including industry-specific regulations that limit managerial discretion to alter creditor priority. These regulations also provide cells with a much greater degree of bankruptcy remoteness than standard security interests, because the creditors of the cells usually have no recourse to any others cells, including in the event that the company as a whole becomes bankrupt. In this way, they address the deficiencies associated with security interests that make them inadequate for the key financial products described above.

We describe three examples, one for each of the three financial products discussed in Part IV. Consider first the protected cells regimes, of which Delaware’s can serve as an example. Its cell regime is limited to captive insurance companies.[161] The law clearly provides that “[t]he assets of a protected cell shall not be chargeable with liabilities of any other protected cell or . . . of the sponsored captive insurance company generally[,]” unless stipulated in the participation agreement.[162] The priority of creditors of each cell is also fixed. The reason is that protected cell companies are not permitted to incur material debts, and the cells are subject to the same restrictions on indebtedness as the captive insurance companies themselves.[163] Furthermore, the liability of each participant insured by a captive insurance company is limited to its share in the assets of a protected cell,[164] and participants may not be added without permission from the regulator.[165] Moreover, the captive insurance company is not permitted to transfer any assets of a protected cell without the participants’ consent or regulatory approvals.[166]

In this way, the law effectively makes the cells bankruptcy remote. To be sure, there is formally no bankruptcy protection in the sense that if the company itself is liquidated or rehabilitated, presumably the cells will be as well. However, captive insurance companies have largely no material creditors, and each of the insured as creditors of cells only have recourse to the cells themselves.[167] Thus, it is difficult to envisage a situation where the default of one cell could lead to the default of the company and the other cells. Moreover, protected cells may be subject to their own liquidation proceedings without impairing the other cells.[168] Finally, if the protected cell company itself is in default and is being liquidated, [t]he assets of a protected cell may not be used to pay any expenses or claims other than those attributable to such protected cell.[169] Accordingly, even if the company is liquidated, the cells are protected from the liabilities of the protected cell company, and thus the rights of each cells’ creditors are unlikely to be jeopardized.

Protected cells are increasingly used to structure investment funds as umbrella funds.[170] In the U.K. version of umbrella fund legislation, protected cells are specifically designed to form open-ended mutual funds under the OpenEnded Investment Companies Regulations. Each cell may constitute a separate sub-fund, and the sub-funds are subject to the same regulations as funds.[171] Under the regulations, “the assets of a sub-fund belong exclusively to that sub-fund and shall not be used to discharge the liabilities of or claims against the umbrella company or any other person or body, or any other sub-fund, and shall not be available for any such purpose . . . .”[172] The regulation further mandates that the liabilities of a particular sub-fund can be paid only out of the assets of that sub-fund[173] and declares all contrary provisions void.[174]

The priority of each cell is again fixed under the regulations, which subject each fund and sub-fund to restrictions on indebtedness and prescribe the rights of investors to the fund’s assets. Specifically, the funds may only borrow on a temporary basis (defined generally as under three months),[175] and such borrowing may never exceed 10 percent of the value of the funds property.[176] Moreover, fund investors are entitled to a proportionate share of the net asset value of the underlying assets when they decide to redeem their shares.[177]

As mentioned above, the cells enjoy substantial bankruptcy remoteness. Given the strict limitation on liabilities, it is hard to envision a realistic situation in which the creditors of each cell could file for the winding-up of the company, because their claims are limited to the cell and the non-cellular assets are subject to substantial limitations on indebtedness. Moreover, each sub-fund can be wound up without impacting the umbrella company.[178]

Lastly, Luxembourg as well as other jurisdictions has established a regime for the formation of securitization funds managed by a management company.[179] Each securitization fund is supposed to serve as a vehicle for securitizing separate pools of assets. The rules for such funds, including those regarding the rights and obligations of the management, must be laid out in the management regulations of the fund,[180] and these management regulations must be filed with the trade and company registry.[181] The securitization fund is liable only for obligations imposed or contracted for under its management regulations.[182] The fund is not liable for the obligations of the management company or its investors.[183] Securitization funds may further be subdivided into separate pools called compartments, and separate management regulations may apply to each compartment.[184] Neither creditors of the management company nor the investors have rights of recourse against assets in the securitization fund.[185] The statute further requires that funds write into their management regulations “the circumstances in which the fund or one of its compartments will be in, or may be put into, liquidation.[186] This makes it possible to provide for the separate liquidation of each securitization fund without risking the liquidation of the management company,[187] and in fact, regulators have treated this structure as if it guarantees the bankruptcy remoteness of the funds.[188]

Although the above forms are essentially security interests with greater bankruptcy remoteness, we do not believe that all new forms should be understood the same way. Others appear to be new forms of entities. An important example is the series LLC, which is an LLC that can partition its assets and liabilities among distinct series.[189]

Unlike the forms described above, the series LLC is not limited to specific purposes, such as captive insurance and securitizations. The LLC operating agreement may provide classes of members and managers with different rights and duties.[190] Each series may have a different business purpose and different rights, powers, and duties with respect to the assets held in each series.[191] The assets of each series appear to be segregated in much the same way as those in protected cells,[192] and they likewise seem to be bankruptcy remote.[193] In particular, the series in principle have floating priority because the manager of the LLC has discretion to update the priority of the creditors of each series.

The series LLC is therefore much like an entity. Although one might think that the series LLC may be popular as a way to economize the costs of forming many LLCs, it does not appear to be widely used.[194] The reason is likely that investors have little appetite for yet another enterprise with floating priority. As we explained in Section II.C, floating priority entails high costs of investigation and monitoring, which likely outweigh the costs of forming a new entity. Thus, the series has little advantage over the parent entity (that is, the LLC) that created the series. By contrast, cellular structures with fixed priority are widely used in securitization, captive insurance, and investment funds, suggesting great appetite for innovation based on the core element of a security interest.

The forgoing has attempted to shed light on the purpose and nature of novel business forms, without dwelling on the nature of legal personality. Although it is tempting to deduce that a legal form is an entity because it has legal personality (or that it is not an entity because it lacks personality), such inferences are not helpful in illuminating the function of legal forms. This is in part because legal personality is not consistently and rationally organized in the statutes creating novel forms. For example, most laws state that such cells do not have legal personality, but others do, and some are silent on the point.[195] Legislatures’ decisions about whether to allocate legal personality to each pool of assets seem to be largely arbitrary and unrelated to the specific attributes of the legal form. This further reinforces the claim we made in Section III.F that legal personality cannot serve as a distinguishing principle between entities and security interests. It also highlights the importance of functional analysis for legal policy, as we discuss in the following Part.

VI.  Policy Implications

A.  Judicial Treatment of the New Legal Forms

Courts are increasingly confronted with complicated questions involving novel business forms. Without functional criteria to guide them, judicial decisions are likely to be formalistic or arbitrary. Early cases tended to fixate on the legal personality, rather than the economic objectives of the legal forms chosen by the parties who set up the relevant enterprise. In particular, courts have undermined the asset partitioning of cell structures based on the notion that they lack legal personality. In doing so, they frustrate the very purpose of these forms, which is to establish fixed priority combined with bankruptcy remoteness. By recognizing fixed and floating priority as the critical choices parties make, our account can help guide courts with these difficult determinations.

Consider one of the only American cases addressing the treatment of cells.[196] Pac Re, a Protected Cell Company (PCC), agreed on behalf of one of its cells (5-AT) to reinsure AmTrust. When an insurance claim was made, Pac Re argued that only the relevant cell was liable. AmTrust disagreed and compelled arbitration for recourse to all of Pac Re’s assets.[197] “The result of the arbitration is that Pac Re, not just its 5-AT captive cell, must pay AmTrust a whole lot of money.”[198] Why?

AmTrust’s victory was not compelled by clear statutory language: the insurance statute was unclear about whether creditors of a protected cell could proceed against the PCC,[199] though it was explicit that individual cells were not liable for the debts of the PCC or other cells.[200] The contract was likewise unclear about whether the cell’s debts could be satisfied from the PCC’s assets.[201] Ultimately, a federal district court concluded that the PCC was not liable for the debts of its cell.[202] However, the court still sent Pac Re to arbitration because the contract compelled arbitration for some person, and Pac Re was the only legal person around; the cell had no legal personality separate from the PCC.[203] Once Pac Re was before the tribunal, the arbitrators reinstated liability and required it to pay out almost $8 million on behalf of Cell 5-AT.[204]

It seems unlikely that this result is what commercial parties would have wanted. Parties use cells in order to isolate a pool of assets from all other debts and assets. Historically, parties did this by forming a separate entity but moved to cells in order to economize on the administrative and regulatory costs of forming entities. Pac Re seemingly gives cell-based captives less effective asset partitioning than entity-based captives. In the aftermath of the decision, credit rating agency Fitch noted that full recourse “could potentially cause disruption or financial stress for the protected cells in that PCC”[205] because the creditworthiness of all cells within the PCC became central to the status of the cell.

The business model of captive insurance is based on the fixed priority each insured has to each cell. Each insurance customer seeks to avoid the risk that new claimants might arise as peer or superior in status.[206] If the creditors of one cell can potentially levy on the assets of other cells in the group, then the customers of other cells must worry about the promises the insurance management company makes.

Pac Re potentially converts other cells’ fixed priority to floating priority by rejecting Pac Re’s statutory and functionalist argument. The court instead waxed jurisprudential about the nature of legal personhood and found that Pac Re rather than Cell 5-AT was the appropriate defendant in the lawsuit.[207] More troublingly, however, the court appears to suggest that legal personhood is dispositive of whether the segregation of the cells’ assets should be respected: “[T]hat a protected cell should be segregated and isolated from the core and any other protected cells in the PCC misses the mark in this lawsuit because a protected cell is not a separate legal person.”[208]

Legal personality is an inadequate lynchpin for this kind of decision in a world in which entity-like functions are frequently exercised by forms whose personhood is unclear.[209] The question of who should be named in a lawsuitan assets pool’s owner, its manager, or the pool itselfis analytically separate from the question of what assets are available to satisfy claims. Courts must be mindful of parties’ asset partitioning choices and the priority structures they adopt. Determining the permeability of these partitions on the basis of legal personality or other beside-the-point criteria is misguided.

B.  Bankruptcy Remoteness for Security Interests

We have shown that there is substantial appetite for fixed priorities with bankruptcy remoteness. The law has long permitted this arrangement, but it has generally required the use of two instruments: a security interest and an entity. This is reflected in the structure of the financial products we discussed in Part IV. With more respect for the security interests the entities would be superfluous in such structures.

The law would be improved if it respected the bankruptcy remoteness of security interests in such contexts without requiring the interposition of an entity. Any time that parties are capable of establishing fixed priority and bankruptcy remoteness, there should be an option for them to achieve that effect without actually forming an entity. As long as all creditors have proper notice of the asset partitions, there is little need to require parties to form a separate entity.[210] Specifically, this means that non-recourse secured claims on assets would be respected in bankruptcy to the same degree that non-recourse claims on a subsidiary (or a SPE) that contains the asset would be respected.[211]

At minimum, this reform would have the modest effect of saving the transaction costs of creating new entities. These costs are not trivial when business planners pledge numerous asset pools to numerous creditors, in circumstances where creditors seek safe assets that are easy to evaluate, and the value of managerial discretion is low. It is also possible that such a reform would have more wide-reaching beneficial effects. In particular, a growing number of businesses consist of numerous entities.[212] Thus, our proposal could in principle reduce organizational complexity by making entities redundant for some financial products.[213] It is also possible that pooling assets within security interests would further mitigate wrongful asset-shifting.[214]

How should this reform be effected? One way to do this is by identifying specific structures or transactions which would benefit from the combination of fixed priority and bankruptcy remoteness. This is essentially the approach of specialized legislation for captives, mutual funds, and securitizations. Another option is to create a set of general conditions, potentially applicable to any security interest. For example, a statutory safe harbor could be introduced for any non-recourse security interests;[215] qualifying secured claims would enjoy substantial protectionssuch as release from bankruptcy’s automatic stay[216] and exemption from the collection efforts of unsecured creditors[217]which would have arisen through entity-based financing.

The latter proposal raises the concern that permitting secured parties to opt for greater bankruptcy protection would transfer wealth away from non-adjusting creditors, such as tort victims, and accordingly drive firms to create and externalize too much risk. There is a rich debate on the costs and benefits of a regime that privileges one group of creditors above another, and we do not intend to settle it in this paper.[218] However, our proposal is limited to contexts where entity-based bankruptcy remoteness is already feasible. Whether such protections are efficient or not, it is of little importance whether the means is a security interest or an entity.

Should we go even further and allocate bankruptcy remoteness to all security interests? That is, even security interests that retain the creditor’s deficiency claims to the other assets of the owner? Doing so would amount to a major change in bankruptcy policy, given that most assets entering into bankruptcy are subject to secured claims.[219] Here too, there is extensive literature debating whether parties should be able to opt out of bankruptcy or customize its terms.[220] So far, the trend has been in the opposite direction,[221] but new technologies raise new questions. As we show in the next Part, even if these new technologies do not result in a contractarian bankruptcy system, they may increase quantity and variety of property-like law in commercial life.

VII.  Enduring Legal and Technological Innovations

One question for future research is how enduring this distinction will be. Do future innovations in business form threaten it? Blockchain infrastructure is a means of witnessing and recording transactions on “distributed, open and unalterable ledgers.”[222] This technology facilitates “smart contracts,” which are computer scripts that execute transactions, such as mutual promises between contracting parties, now and in the future.[223] Blockchain technology records transactions and makes those records publicly available to those with access to the blockchain network. Because of this widespread notification, privately created contracts bind third parties who are members of the network.[224] In so doing, blockchain technology essentially blurs the distinction between contract law and property law because it facilitates instruments that can be highly customized yet resilient against third-party claims.[225]

How might blockchain technology and the collapse of the contract/property divide affect the distinction between entities and security interests? Blockchain technology might substitute for security interests because it can create fixed priorities to specific assets that bind third parties.[226] Blockchain technology might also substitute for legal entities because it can allow an owner to designate a set of assets for the benefit of certain creditors, while reserving in the smart contract the right to update creditor priority as time goes on.[227]

While it is difficult to predict the future, we think that modern innovations will not undermine the priority-based distinction. The property-like functions in blockchain systems will still come in floating and fixed priority variants. Parties will stipulate whether they want a given creditor’s claim on a pool to be utterly certain or to be subject to demotion in order to accommodate later creditors. This choice is the essential choice between security interest and entity, and parties will tailor their blockchain commitments in ways that reflect that fundamental choice.

Their choice will reflect the same considerations we identified: evaluation costs and the value of management. Where parties want to lower their evaluation costs, they will select smart contractual commitments with fixed priority in the assets, which the owner cannot override. Other parties will bargain to give the owner more flexibility to pledge the asset to other creditors and update the priority scheme over time.[228] This arrangement will make more sense when the owner’s freedom is likely to support efficient uses of the assets.

New commercial technology may challenge many familiar concepts, including the orthodox division between contract law and property law. Nevertheless, we speculate that the species of entity and security interest will survive long after the genus of property has dissolved.

Conclusion

Recent years have witnessed a Cambrian explosion in the variety of business forms. The financial crisis of 2007 familiarized most Americans with the words “securitization” and “special purpose entity.” Mutual funds have become a dominant force in capital markets, and exotic insurance products are becoming part of mainstream business. The menu of legal forms has evolved to allow maximum flexibility in partitioning assets. The most advanced permutation in this process is the introduction of novel forms, such as Protected Cell Companies, Segregated Portfolios, Series LLCs, and a myriad of other instruments. After many decades of simplicity, why an explosion of complexity?

We argue that this trend is largely driven by an appetite for fixed priority. Security interests provide this function and entities do not. The rise of financial products like securitization, long associated with entities (such as the “special purpose entity”), is best understood as demand for security interests. The security interests that underlie these products are designed to minimize the costs of evaluating the assets. Most forms of security interests, however, face some difficulty avoiding costly bankruptcy, whereas entities tend to enjoy greater bankruptcy remoteness. Because the lack of bankruptcy remoteness may destroy fixed priority in the event of a bankruptcy, sophisticated parties have found ways to buttress their structures with the supplemental use of entities and, recently, by utilizing legal instruments that purport to provide the fixed claims of security interests alongside bankruptcy remoteness.

Incidentally, our theory also reinforces the view of entities as not just mere interests in assets. Ultimately, entities require some managerial discretion to update the priorities of the creditors (though not necessarily a dedicated or centralized manager). The benefit of maintaining such discretion is to allow the firm flexibility in raising funds for productive activity. Creditors lend to entities when they wish to rely on managed going concerns, whereas creditors who seek to minimize the costs of evaluation require a security interest to minimize managerial discretion to update their priority. Our theory also helps explain the proliferation of these new legal forms: they are not just opportunities to arbitrage insurance regulation, nor are they the inevitable consequence of a commitment to private ordering among chartering jurisdictions. Instead, they are efforts to maintain security interests’ fixed priority without necessarily accepting all of the terms (and bankruptcy costs) associated with security interests. This understanding can inform courts as they evaluate cases by identifying the parties’ objectives, and it can help legislatures support optimal private ordering. In particular, we argue that when courts allocate priorities among creditors, they should base their decisions on the priorities prescribed by the relevant law, rather than entity status.

Furthermore, we show that there may be reasons to allow non-recourse security interests the benefit of bankruptcy remoteness, even without the fiction of a new legal person.

Finally, our proposed distinction is enduring. Even as new contracting technologies are inventedsuch as smart contracts and blockchainand even as bankruptcy laws evolve, parties will still have different appetites for fixed and floating priority.

 

 


[*] *. Ofer Eldar is Associate Professor of Law, Duke University School of Law. Andrew Verstein is Associate Professor of Law, Wake Forest University School of Law. For comments and helpful conversations, we are grateful to Anthony Casey, Deborah Demott, Elisabeth De Fontenay, Russell Gold, Mike Green, Ezra Friedman, Mitu Gulati, Henry Hansmann, Raina Haque, Omer Kimhi, Kim Krawiec, Lynn M. LoPucki, John Morley, Barak Richman, Michael Simkovic, Richard Squire, Steven Schwarcz, Ron Wright, and participants at the faculty workshop at Duke University School of Law, Northwestern University’s Soshnick Colloquium, and the Wake Forest Faculty Development Lunch.

 [1]. See Gary Gorton & Andrew Metrick, Securitization, in 2A Handbook of the Economics of Finance: Corporate Finance 1, 1–70 (George M. Constantinides, Milton Harris & René M. Stulz eds., 2013); Steven L. Schwarcz, The Alchemy of Asset Securitization, 1 Stan. J.L. Bus. & Fin. 133, 135 (1994).

 [2]. Other securitization vehicles include collateralized loan obligations (“CLOs”) and collateralized debt obligations (“CDOs”). Both of these forms carve up loans into tranches of securities with different levels of risk. See Christopher Whittall, Hunt for Yield Fuels Boom in Another Complex, Risky Security, Wall St. J. (Oct. 22, 2017, 6:16 PM), https://www.wsj.com/articles/hunt-for-yield-fuels-boom-in-clos-1508673601 (stating that collateralized loan obligations accounted for $247 billion in the first nine months of 2017); Experts Explain: What Is a CDO?, Wall St. J.: Video (July 25, 2011, 12:26 PM), https://on.wsj.com/2zT30XV.

 [3]. See infra Section IV.C.

 [4]. See infra Section IV.B.

 [5]. See, e.g., Ralph S.J. Koijen & Motohiro Yogo, Shadow Insurance, 84 Econometrica 1265, 1265 (2016) (finding that shadow reinsurance grew to $364 billion in 2012); Morgan Stanley, An Overview of Global Securitized Markets (2018), https://www.morganstanley.com/im/publication
/insights/investment-insights/ii_anoverviewoftheglobalsecuritizedmarkets_us.pdf (reporting that in 2018 the global securitization market totaled $10.4 trillion); Total Net Assets of U.S.-Registered Mutual Funds Worldwide from 1998 to 2017, Statista, https://www.statista.com/statistics/255518/mutual-fund-assets-held-by-investment-companies-in-the-united-states (last visited Jan. 28, 2019) (reporting that in 2017, mutual funds held $18.75 trillion).

 [6]. See Jonathan R. Macey, Corporate Governance: Promises Kept, Promises Broken 22 (2008); Michael C. Jensen & William H. Meckling, Theory of the Firm: Managerial Behavior, Agency Costs and Ownership Structure, 3 J. Fin. Econ. 305, 310–11 (1976).

 [7].               Frank H. Easterbrook & Daniel R. Fischel, The Economic Structure of Corporate Law 15 (1991).                           

 [8]. Margaret M. Blair, Corporate Personhood and the Corporate Persona, 2013 U. Ill. L. Rev. 785, 796 (2013); Anthony J. Casey, The New Corporate Web: Tailored Entity Partitions and Creditors’ Selective Enforcement, 124 Yale L.J. 2680, 2680 (2015); Henry Hansmann & Reinier Kraakman, The Essential Role of Organizational Law, 110 Yale L.J. 387, 390 (2000) [hereinafter Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role]; Henry Hansmann, Renier Kraakman & Richard Squire, Law and the Rise of the Firm, 119 Harv. L. Rev. 1333, 1340 (2005) [hereinafter Hansmann et al., Law and the Rise of the Firm]; Edward M. Iacobucci & George G. Triantis, Economic and Legal Boundaries of Firms, 93 Va. L. Rev. 515, 517 (2007); Ron Harris & Asher Meir, Non-Recourse Mortgages – A Fresh Start, 21 Am. Bankr. Inst. L. Rev. 119, 137 n. 91 (2013); Paul G. Mahoney, Contract or Concession? An Essay on the History of Corporate Law, 34 Ga. L. Rev. 873, 876 (2000); Henry E. Smith, Intellectual Property as Property: Delineating Entitlements in Information, 116 Yale L.J. 1742, 1759 (2007); Richard Squire, The Case for Symmetry in Creditors’ Rights, 118 Yale L.J. 806, 808 (2009).

 [9]. Property rights are said to be enforceable “against the world,” whereas contract rights are enforceable only against parties to the contract or, in some cases, on notice of it. See Thomas W. Merrill & Henry E. Smith, The Property/Contract Interface, 101 Colum. L. Rev. 773, 780–89 (2001).

 [10]. See infra Part I.

 [11]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 417 (acknowledging that security interests “offer a potential substitute” for entities’ priority of claims); George G. Triantis, Organizations as Internal Capital Markets: The Legal Boundaries of Firms, Collateral, and Trusts in Commercial and Charitable Enterprises, 117 Harv. L. Rev. 1102, 1138 (2004) (“Like corporations, security interests . . . can achieve the monitoring-specialization economies highlighted in the Hansmann-Kraakman hypothesis. Indeed, these monitoring efficiencies served for some time as the leading academic justification for the priority rights of secured credit.” (footnote omitted)).

 [12]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 423 (“It is possible that the law of security interests will continue to evolve . . . . If so, the line between organizational law and the law of secured interests may become quite indistinct . . . .”); Triantis, supra note 11, at 1119 (“It leaves to later work the intriguing task of comparing the efficiency of various mechanisms and describing the conditions under which, for example, a project should be financed by secured credit rather than as a separate corporate entity under project finance.”).

 [13]. See infra Part V.

 [14]. We are not the first to notice that security interests permit fixed creditor priority. See, e.g., Randal C. Picker, Security Interests, Misbehavior, and Common Pools, 59 U. Chi. L. Rev. 645, 650 (1992). However, we are the first to identify fixed creditor priority as the essential function that distinguishes security interest law from entity law and to draw out its vital contribution to certain economic transactions.

 [15]. See, e.g., Republic Nat’l of Dall. v. Fitzgerald (In re E.A. Fretz Co.), 565 F.2d 366, 369 (5th Cir. 1978); infra text accompanying note 50.

 [16]. By evaluating assets, we mean to encompass both the costs of appraising the assets and the costs of monitoring the debtor’s use of the assets. See infra Section II.C.

 [17]. Although we argue for a unique essential role for each domain, and therefore a single essential distinction, we do not believe that either body of law plays only a single role. See Ronald J. Mann, Explaining the Pattern of Secured Credit, 110 Harv. L. Rev. 625, 633 (1997). In fact, both provide a mixture of mandatory and default terms. Although we argue that most are not essential to the bodies of law and could be obtained through alternative means, parties may well find security interests or entities to be a salient or convenient path.

 [18]. That is, placing the assets within a special purpose entity (“SPE”) reduces the possibility that the sponsor corporation’s bankruptcy will affect the SPE’s creditors and claims. See Gorton & Metrick, supra note 1, at 9; Schwarcz, supra note 1, at 35. See generally Kenneth M. Ayotte & Stav Gaon, Asset-Backed Securities: Costs and Benefits of “Bankruptcy Remoteness”, 24 Rev. Fin. Stud. 1299 (2011) (finding a pricing premium for bankruptcy remote instruments).

 [19]. See infra Section VI.A.

 [20]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 390.

 [21]. Our example is loosely based on the business model of General Growth Properties, an enterprise that operated about over 200 shopping malls financed mainly through securitization vehicles, as described in its highly publicized bankruptcy. See generally In re Gen. Growth Props. Inc., 409 B.R. 43 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009) (deciding motions in General Growth Properties’ bankruptcy case).

 [22]. This example is based on the Ala Moana mall, a former General Growth property that is located near Waikiki Beach in Honolulu, Hawaii. It is the largest outdoor shopping mall in the world, and home to luxury shops such as Gucci and Chanel. See Retail Space for Lease at Ala Moana Center, Brookfield Props., https://www.brookfieldpropertiesretail.com/properties/property-details/ala-moana-center.html (last visited Jan. 28, 2019); Declaration of James A. Mesterharm Pursuant to Local Bankruptcy Rule 1007-2 in Support of First Day Motions at 66, In re Gen. Growth Props., Inc., No. 09-11977, 409 B.R. 43 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009), ECF No. 13 [hereinafter Mesterharm Declaration].

 [23]. This example is based on another one of General Growth’s shopping malls, called Sooner Mall, which is located in Norman, Oklahoma. See Retail Space for Lease at Sooner Mall, Brookfield Props., https://www.brookfieldpropertiesretail.com/properties/property-details/sooner-mall.html (last visited Jan. 28, 2019); Mesterharm Declaration, supra note 22, at 59.

 [24]. These financiers are not limited to banks; trade creditors, such as suppliers, often become creditors as they wait for payment for services rendered or for goods delivered.

 [25]. Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 390.

 [26]. Id. at 399–404. Partitioning can also prevent redundant and insufficient monitoring. See Picker, supra note 14, at 660; Saul Levmore, Monitors and Freeriders in Commercial and Corporate Settings, 92 Yale L.J. 49, 51–53, 57–59 (1982).

 [27]. Thomas H. Jackson & Anthony T. Kronman, Secured Financing and Priorities Among Creditors, 88 Yale L.J. 1143, 1143 (1979). But see Alan Schwartz, Security Interests and Bankruptcy Priorities: A Review of Current Theories, 10 J. Legal Stud. 1, 9–14 (1981) (questioning the empirical foundation of the claim that junior creditors monitor).

 [28]. This is subject to the risk that whole business of the owner becomes bankrupt. See infra Section III.G.

 [29]. See, e.g., Jackson & Kronman, supra note 27, at 1156–57 n.51; Levmore, supra note 26, at 53; Picker, supra note 14, at 658.

 [30]. Triantis, supra note 11, at 1131.

 [31]. See infra Section III.C.

 [32]. U.C.C. § 9-322(a) (Am. Law Inst. & Unif. Law Comm’n 2010).

 [33]. Our fixed priority thesis does not entail that priority is immune to all change. Rather, we claim that security interests fix priority to whatever degree and in whatever way the law allows.

 [34]. For a discussion of how structural priority can establish the priorities among creditors, see Douglas G. Baird, Priority Matters: Absolute Priority, Relative Priority, and the Costs of Bankruptcy, 165 U. Pa. L. Rev. 785, 820–21 (2017).

 [35]. Casey, supra note 8, at 2740 n.180.

 [36]. See generally Barry E. Adler & Marcel Kahan, The Technology of Creditor Protection, 161 U. Penn. L. Rev. 1773 (2013) (discussing ways to award recovery rights against third parties).

 [37]. Del. Code Ann. tit 8, § 124 (2018) (making ultra vires acts enforceable). Charters can create priority among shareholders, for example when preferred stockholders gain a preference over common stockholders. However, this is only binding on participants to the corporate contract who were on notice of the potential for issuing new shares that might alter intra-shareholder priority, and it cannot alter the priorities of third parties.

 [38]. See Barry E. Adler, Financial and Political Theories of American Corporate Bankruptcy, 45 Stan. L. Rev. 311, 338 (1993) (discussing the law of apparent authority). The debt would be ultra vires, but that does not render it unenforceable. See, e.g., Del. Code Ann. tit 8, § 124 (making ultra vires acts enforceable); In re Mulco Prods., Inc., 123 A.2d 95, 103–05 (Del. Super. Ct. 1956) (describing the law of apparent authority), aff’d sub nom. Mulco Prods., Inc. v. Black, 127 A.2d 851 (Del. 1956); see also Picker, supra note 14, at 652 (discussing a debtor’s ability to assure a creditor that the debtor will not take on new debt).

 [39]. See Adler & Kahan, supra note 36, at 1795 n.63.

 [40]. Control may cause a creditor’s claims to be equitably subordinated in bankruptcy or expose the creditor to lender liability lawsuits. See Steven L. Schwarcz, The Easy Case for the Priority of Secured Claims in Bankruptcy, 47 Duke L.J. 425, 438–39 (1997).

 [41]. For the classic discussion of this information asymmetry, see generally George A. Akerlof, The Market for “Lemons”: Quality Uncertainty and the Market Mechanism, 84 Q.J. ECON. 488 (1970).

 [42]. In contrast, information on security interests is generally publicly available in the relevant registry.

 [43]. In many cases, being third in priority may be better than having equal priority with all creditors. For example, imagine that 100 creditors are each owed $10 and that the enterprise is worth only $30. If all creditors share ratably, then each will receive $0.03. However, if C3 ranks higher than ninety-seven creditors, she should be able to fully recover her claim.

 [44]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 419–20 (discussing the possibility and limitations of a single-creditor solution to asset partitioning); see also Robert E. Scott, A Relational Theory of Secured Financing, 86 Colum. L. Rev. 901, 948–50 (1986) (discussing single-creditor lending to small firms).

 [45]. We have also dimmed the creditor and asset that is not relevant to the discussion.

 [46]. Republic Nat’l Bank of Dall. v. Fitzgerald (In re of E. A. Fretz Co.), 565 F.2d 366, 368–69 (5th Cir. 1978).

 [47]. Id. at 368.

 [48]. Id. at 372.

 [49]. Id. at 369.

 [50]. Id. at 372. Other courts have reached similar conclusions. See, e.g., W.C. Fore Trucking Co. v. Biloxi Prestress Concrete, Inc. (In re Biloxi Prestress Concrete, Inc.), 98 F.3d 204, 209 (5th Cir. 1996); Whitlock v. Max Goodman & Sons Realty, Inc. (In re Goodman Indus., Inc.), 21 B.R. 512 (Bankr. D. Mass. 1982); In re Adirondack Timber Enter., No. 08–12553, 2010 WL 1741378, at *3–4 (Bankr. N.D.N.Y. Apr. 28, 2010). Note that cases sanctioning the use of participation agreements, whereby participant lenders may benefit from a lead lender’s prioritized security interest, are consistent with this view. See, e.g., Bayer Corp. v. MascoTech, Inc. (In re AutoStyle Plastics, Inc.), 269 F.3d 726, 744 (6th Cir. 2001). Under such agreements, only the lead lender may pursue recourse against the debtor, and participant lenders are paid by and have contractual relationships with the lead lender, not the debtor. Id. at 736. Participant lenders benefit from a lead lender’s prioritized security interest, particularly where the lead lender’s credit arrangement with the debtor is expandable, because the lead lender may claim the full amount of the debt, which it may use to pay the participant lenders. Id. at 736–37. Such arrangements thus represent security interests for floating debt, not floating priority for creditors.

 [51]. See, e.g., Casey, supra note 8, at 2684–85 (arguing that tailored asset partitions facilitate effective creditor monitoring); Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 401–03; Jackson & Kronman, supra note 27, at 1156; Levmore, supra note 26, at 49–50; Richard A. Posner, The Rights of Creditors of Affiliated Corporations, 43 U. Chi. L. Rev. 499, 501–02 (1976); Gabriel Rauterberg, Agency Law as Asset Partitioning 17 (Aug. 10, 2015) (unpublished manuscript), https://papers.ssrn.com
/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2641646.

 [52]. Michael C. Jensen, Agency Costs of Free Cash Flow, Corporate Finance, and Takeovers, 76 Am. Econ. Rev. 323, 326–27 (1986); Steven Kaplan, The Effects of Management Buyouts on Operating Performance and Value, 24 J. Fin. Econ. 217, 250–51 (1989); cf. Andrei Shleifer & Lawrence H. Summers, Breach of Trust in Hostile Takeovers, in Corporate Takeovers: Their Causes and Consequences 33, 53 (Alan J. Auerbach ed., 1988).

 [53]. See Oliver Hart & John Moore, Debt and Seniority: An Analysis of the Role of Hard Claims in Constraining Management, 85 Am. Econ. Rev. 567, 568 (1995); George G. Triantis, A Free-Cash-Flow Theory of Secured Debt and Creditor Priorities, 80 Va. L. Rev. 2155, 2155–57 (1994).

 [54]. Efraim Benmelech & Nittai Bergman, Debt, Information, and Illiquidity 18–19 (Nat’l Bureau of Econ. Research, Working Paper No. 25054, 2018), https://www.nber.org/papers/w25054.

 [55]. U.C.C. §§ 9-108(c), 9-504(2) (Am. Law Inst. & Unif. Law Comm’n 2010); see also Melissa B. Jacoby & Edward J. Janger, Ice Cube Bonds: Allocating the Price of Process in Chapter 11 Bankruptcy, 123 Yale L.J. 862, 922–24 (discussing obstacles to obtaining a security interest in all of a debtor’s property).

 [56]. U.C.C. § 9-204. Moreover, security interests in inventory do not follow the inventory if sold in the ordinary course of business, see id. § 9-320, and ordinarily security interests in deposits do not follow the cash once it is withdrawn, see id. § 9-332(a).

 [57]. See id. § 9-315.

 [58]. For example, the English floating charge is a security interest over all or substantially all of the assets of a company. See Roy Goode, Principles of Corporate Insolvency Laws 325–27 (4th ed. 2011).

 [59]. See infra Part IV.

 [60]. U.C.C. § 9-310; Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 418. Article 9 allows alternative methods for perfecting a security interest. Id. § 9-310(b). For example, possession is a common means of perfection often associated with pawn shops. Id. § 9-313. Control is also often used to perfect interest in securities. Id. § 9-314. Other security interests perfect automatically, without any filing. Id. § 9-309.

 [61]. See, e.g., Barry E. Adler, An Equity-Agency Solution to the Bankruptcy-Priority Puzzle, 22 J. Legal Stud. 73, 80 (1993).

 [62]. Mann, supra note 17, at 662–63. Mann put the cost as $40 per $100,000, or one twenty-fifth of one percent of the principal loaned.

 [63]. Barry E. Adler & George Triantis, Debt Priority and Options in Bankruptcy: A Policy Intervention, 91 Am. Bankr. L.J. 563, 572 (2017).

 [64]. For example, publicly traded corporations must file an 8-K to report “material . . . agreements . . . not made in the ordinary course of business.” Additional Form 8-K Disclosure Requirements & Acceleration of Filing Date, 17 C.F.R. §§ 228–30, 239–40, 249 (2018).

 [65]. Henry Hansmann & Reinier Kraakman, Property, Contract, and Verification: The Numerus Clausus Problem and the Divisibility o                                                                                                                                                          f Rights, 31 J. Legal Stud. S373, S39395 (2002) [hereinafter Hansmann & Kraakman, Property, Contract, and Verification] (discussing the trade-off between benefit to parties of using property law against investigation cost to third parties).

 [66]. Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 422; Hansmann & Kraakman, Property, Contract, and Verification, supra note 65, at S403.

 [67]. It is important not to overstate security interest laws’ powers of recovery against third parties. See 11 U.S.C. § 362(a) (2012) (barring all recovery efforts against debtors that have filed for bankruptcy); U.C.C. § 9-609 (Am. Law Inst. & Unif. Law Comm’n 2010) (prohibiting self-help where it causes a “breach of the peace”); Douglas G. Baird & Robert K. Rasmussen, Private Debt and the Missing Lever of Corporate Governance, 154 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1209, 1229 (2006) (noting practical limitations on recovery); Lynn M. LoPucki, The Unsecured Creditor’s Bargain, 80 Va. L. Rev. 1887, 1922 (1994) (discussing the long timeline of real property foreclosure laws). Moreover, self-help can also be replicated by other contractual means, such as leases. To use the example from Part I, C1 can purchase the Hawaii mall and then lease it to the owner. As in a secured transaction, the creditor pays a fixed sum and stands to recover a fixed sum unless the owner defaults, in which case the creditor owns the mall. Thus, if the owner ceases to pay, the lease is breached, and C1 can simply repossess the assets she already owns.

 [68]. U.C.C. § 9-201(a).

 [69]. Triantis, supra note 11, at 1138. The debt can continue to grow and yet benefit from the senior priority. U.C.C. §§ 9-204(c), 9-323(a) & cmt. 3. This is a strong deterrent to buying an asset subject to a lien. See Adler, supra note 61, at 78–79.

 [70]. See Statute of 13 Elizabeth, 13 Eliz. 1, ch. 4 (1571) (Eng.); Unif. Fraudulent Transfer Act (Unif. Law Comm’n 2014); Unif. Voidable Transactions Act (Unif. Law Comm’n 2018); Unif. Fraudulent Conveyance Act (Unif. Law Comm’n 2018).

 [71]. Unif. Fraudulent Transfer Act (Unif. Law Comm’n 2014); Unif. Voidable Transactions Act (Unif. Law Comm’n 2018).

 [72]. Stephen M. Bainbridge, Corporation Law and Economics 29 (2002).

 [73]. See Del. Code Ann. tit. 8, § 141(a) (2018) (allowing firms to confer the powers and duties of a board of directors on anyone provided in the charter).

 [74]. See, e.g., Revised Unif. Partnership Act § 401(f) (1997); Del. Code Ann. tit. 6, § 18-402 (2018).

 [75]. See infra Part IV.

 [76]. Hansmann and Kraakman refer to it as defensive asset partitioning. Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 394; see also Hansmann et al., Law and the Rise of the Firm, supra note 8, at 1336.

 [77]. See generally Bainbridge & Henderson, Limited Liability: A Legal and Economic Analysis (2016) (explaining the importance of limited liability); The Key to Industrial Capitalism: Limited Liability, Economist (Dec. 23, 1999), https://www.economist.com/finance-and-economics
/1999/12/23/the-key-to-industrial-capitalism-limited-liability (praising limited liability).

 [78]. U.C.C. § 9-608(a)(4), 9-615(d)(2) (Am. Law Inst. & Unif. Law Comm’n 2010) (“[T]he obligor is liable for any deficiency.”). The parties can agree that C1 will have no recourse to A2, id. § 9-608 cmt. 3 (“The parties are always free to agree that an obligor will not be liable for a deficiency, even if the collateral secures an obligation . . . .”). However, American bankruptcy law gives secured parties the option of unsecured recourse to all the debtor’s assets. 11 U.S.C. § 1111(b)(1)(A) (2012); see also Iacobucci & Triantis, supra note 8, at 52932.

 [79]. Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 429.

 [80]. Casey, supra note 8, at 2722.

 [81]. See United States v. Bestfoods, 524 U.S. 51, 66–68, 70–71 (1998).

 [82]. The advantage is only relative. Courts have allowed participants in reciprocal insurance schemes to limit their liability by contracts duly filed with the state insurance commissioner, even against non-consenting creditors. See, e.g., Hill v. Blanco Nat’l Bank, 179 S.W.2d 999 (Tex. Civ. App. 1944); Wysong v. Auto. Underwriters, 184 N.E. 783, 788 (Ind. 1933). See generally Andrew Verstein, Enterprise Without Entities, 116 Mich. L. Rev. 247 (2017) (discussing reciprocal insurance schemes and their role in limiting the need for entities to obtain liability protection).

 [83]. See Dafna Avraham et al., A Structural View of U.S. Bank Holding Companies, 18 Fed. Res. Bank of N.Y. Econ. Pol’y. Rev. 65, 72 (2012) (finding that seven bank holding companies own almost 15,000 subsidiaries).

 [84]. Cf. Henry Hansmann & Reinier Kraakman, Toward Unlimited Shareholder Liability for Corporate Torts, 100 Yale L.J. 1879 (1991) (questioning the desirability of limited liability for torts).

 [85]. Peter Z. Grossman, The Market for Shares of Companies with Unlimited Liability: The Case of American Express, 24 J. Legal Stud. 63, 66 (1995); Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 430; Mark I. Weinstein, Don’t Buy Shares Without It: Limited Liability Comes to American Express, 37 J. Legal Stud. 189, 191–92 (2008); Mark I. Weinstein, Share Price Changes the Arrival of Limited Liability in California, 32 J. Legal Stud. 1, 1–2 (2003).

 [86]. Casey, supra note 8, at 2719–20; Iacobucci & Triantis, supra note 8, at 533.

 [87]. See Douglas G. Baird, The Uneasy Case for Corporate Reorganizations, 15 J. Legal Stud. 127, 127 (1986); Thomas H. Jackson, Bankruptcy, Non-Bankruptcy Entitlements, and the Creditors’ Bargain, 91 Yale L.J. 857, 857 (1982).

 [88]. 75 C.J.S. Receivers §§ 16, 44 (2018); Receiverships, 4 I.R.M. § 5.17.13.10 (2017). Secured creditors generally file for receivership to prevent collateral from decreasing in value or to avoid repossession. Mary Jo Heston, Alternatives to Bankruptcy: Receiverships, Assignments for Benefit of Creditors, and Informal Workout Arrangements, 2009 WL 4052825, at *5.

 [89]. Andrew C. Kassner & Howard A. Cohen, Anything but Bankruptcy!: ABCs, Receiverships and Other Alternatives, 080405 Am. Bankr. Inst. 239 (2005).

 [90]. Heston, supra note 88, at 5; see also 75 C.J.S. Receivers § 16 (without a judgment, general and contract creditors typically cannot initiate receiverships).

 [91]. Gary Marsh & Caryn E. Wang, Bankruptcy Versus Receivership—Unsecured Creditors, in Strategic Alternatives for and Against Distressed Businesses § 12:18 (2018). Note that although bankruptcy provides for the creation of an unsecured creditors’ committee, receivership does not provide this option. Id.

 [92]. Douglas G. Baird & Anthony Casey, No Exit? Withdrawal Rights and the Law of Corporate Reorganizations, 113 Colum. L. Rev. 1 (2013), Casey, supra note 8, and Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8 all refer to this as liquidation protection.

 [93]. Cf. Steven L. Schwarcz, The Conundrum of Covered Bonds, 66 Bus. Law. 561, 567 n. 43 (2011) (noting sources that distinguish between bankruptcy “remoteness” and bankruptcy “segregation”).

 [94]. Gorton & Metrick, supra note 1, at 1300; Schwarcz, supra note 1, at 135.

 [95]. See In re LTV Steel Co., 274 B.R. 278, 280–81 (Bankr. N.D. Ohio 2001); Ayotte & Gaon, supra note 18, at 7 (finding a twenty-five to twenty-nine basis point price reduction for bankruptcy remote instruments following the LTV decision, which reduced bankruptcy remoteness for many instruments). There have been state law legislative efforts to reduce these risks. See Steven L. Schwarcz, Securitization Post-Enron, 25 Cardozo L. Rev. 1539, 1546–49 (2004). However, a proposed amendment to the federal bankruptcy code (Section 912 of the Bankruptcy Reform Act) was not enacted, leaving the risks appreciable.

 [96]. Courts often undermine bankruptcy-remote structures or consolidate superficially separate subsidiaries, even when tidier structures are used. Douglas G. Baird, Substantive Consolidation Today, 47 B.C. L. Rev. 5, 5 (2005); William H. Widen, Corporate Form and Substantive Consolidation, 75 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 237, 239 (2007) (finding that half of all large public company bankruptcies involve substantive consolidation by court order or settlement). See generally Dennis J. Connolly, John C. Weitnauer & Jonathan T. Edwards, Current Approaches to Substantive Consolidation: Owens Corning Revisited, 2009 Norton’s Ann. Surv. Bankr. L. 2 (providing a laundry list of factors courts use in determining whether substantive consolidation is appropriate). Even solvent subsidiaries can be drawn into the bankruptcy process and subjected to substantive consolidation. See, e.g., Kapila v. S & G Fin. Servs., LLC (In re S&G Fin. Servs. of S. Fla.,               Inc.), 451 B.R. 573, 579–82 (Bankr. S.D. Fla. 2011).

 [97]. Even in the context of securitizations, where the goal is to isolate the assets from the sponsor corporation, sponsors have strong incentives to bail out their SPEs if the assets are not performing. Thus, Citigroup, JPMorgan and Bank of America all bought billions of dollars’ worth of securitized assets from their SPEs when those assets failed to perform, even though they had no legal obligation to do so. Francesco Guerrera & Saskia Scholtes, Banks Come to the Aid of Card Securitisation Vehicles, Fin. Times (June 25, 2009), http://www.ft.com/content/bcf1769c-60ee-11de-aa12-00144feabdc0; see Henry Hansmann & Richard Squire, External and Internal Asset Partitioning: Corporations and Their Subsidiaries, in The Oxford Handbook of Corporate Law and Governance 17 (Jeffrey N. Gordon & Wolf-Georg Ringe eds., 2016); cf. Casey, supra note 8, at 2721–22 (noting the extensive use of cross guarantees but offering an efficiency explanation for it).

 [98]. See generally In re Gen. Growth Props. Inc., 409 B.R. 43 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009).

 [99]. The mall example from Figure 2 is drawn from the General Growth bankruptcy. See generally id.

 [100]. General Growth is essentially a securitization vehicle funded by numerous SPEs; we discuss securitization in more detail in Section IV.A.

 [101]. Nonetheless, it is important to emphasize that the court did not consolidate the SPEs and seems to have respected the priorities of the bondholders. In re Gen. Growth Props., Inc., 409 B.R. at 69. We discuss SPEs in greater detail infra Section IV.A.

 [102]. In addition, regulatory regimes may also protect asset pools from liquidation. Reciprocal insurance companies have long operated as a nexus of contract without any corporation at the core, in part because insurance regulation often bars creditors from initiating liquidation procedures. See Verstein, supra note 82, at 283 (describing how exclusive commissioner control over liquidation preserves other insurance enterprises without entities).

 [103]. See generally Charles W. Mooney, Jr., Choice-of-Law Rules for Secured Transactions: An Interest-Based and Modern Principles-Based Framework for Assessment, 22 Unif. L. Rev. 842 (2017) (offering a framework for assessing choice-of-law rules for secured transactions).

 [104]. Goode, supra note 58, at 315–77. When an application for administration is made, the holder of the floating charge is legally entitled to notice, and he can use the notice period to step in and appoint an administrative receiver. The appointment of an administrative receiver precludes the appointment of the administrator, and the administrative receiver has a duty to continue to operate the assets for the benefit of the charge holder.

 [105]. In some jurisdictions, practical considerations or the inadequacies of enabling legislation still result in the creation of a separate entity. Steven L. Schwarcz, Securitization, Structured Finance, and Covered Bonds, 39 J. Corp. L. 129, 143 (2013).

 [106]. Schwarcz, supra note 93, at 567.

 [107]. 11 U.S.C. § 1129(b)(2) (2012) (barring confirmation of a plan in deviation of absolute priority); see Czyzewski v. Jevic Holding Corp., 137 S. Ct. 973, 979 (2017).

 [108]. The Bankruptcy Code provides adequate protection to secured creditors, such as cash payments. See, e.g., 11 U.S.C. § 361; In re Coker, 216 B.R. 843, 849 (Bankr. N.D. Ala. 1997); see also 11 U.S.C. § 506(b) (providing post-petition interest payments to over-secured creditor).

 [109]. See Douglas G. Baird & Robert K. Rasmussen, Antibankruptcy, 119 Yale L.J. 648, 675–76 (2010).

 [110]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 421 (calling entities advantage in bankruptcy remoteness “relatively modest” and “an artifact of the weakness of U.S. bankruptcy law . . . .”). For example, United Savings Association of Texas v. Timbers of Inwood Forest Associates, Ltd., 484 U.S. 365 (1988) held that secured creditors are not owed interest payments as a result of delayed foreclosure on collateral due to the automatic stay. Creditors increasingly sought bankruptcy protection in light of this decision, but it is hardly an inevitable feature bankruptcy system.

 [111]. The rights of secured parties were even stronger prior to the 1978 reform of the Bankruptcy Code; if the collateral was an important asset, a secured creditor could effectively forestall a reorganization. James J. White, Death and Resurrection of Secured Credit, 12 Am. Bankr. Inst. L. Rev. 139, 142 (2004). Although the automatic stay prevented secured creditors from repossessing collateral, no other rights of secured creditors could be impaired. Id. While the debtor had greater rights to interfere with secured creditors’ claims under chapter X of the 1898 Act, few companies went into chapter X. Id. Before the 1898 Act was amended in the 1930s, secured creditors could in principle also repossess the assets in the course of bankruptcy proceedings. See generally Patrick A. Murphy, Restraint and Reimbursement: The Secured Creditor in Reorganization and Arrangement Proceedings, 30 Bus. Law. 15 (1974). To be sure, the bankruptcy court does have the power to protect by injunction its jurisdiction of the property of the bankrupt. Id. at 18.

 [112]. White, supra note 111, at 142, 149. The 1978 revisions to the bankruptcy code embody a preference for reorganization over liquidation in order to preserve debtor firms. Id. at 139–40.

 [113]. Revised Unif. P’ship Act § 801(6) (amended 1997), 6 U.L.A. 103 (Supp. 2000); Unif. P’ship Act § 32(2), 6 U.L.A. 804 (1995). We note though that the creditors of the partnership itself have priority over the partner’s creditors in the assets. Revised Unif. P’ship Act § 807(a). See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 394–95; Hansmann et al., Law and the Rise of the Firm, supra note 8, at 1137–39.

 [114]. See Hansmann & Kraakman, Essential Role, supra note 8, at 421 (referring to the disregard for the priorities of security creditors in bankruptcy as a “weakness of U.S. bankruptcy law”).

 [115]. For general descriptions, see generally Special Purpose Entity (SPE/SPV) and Bankruptcy Remoteness, in 5 Law of Distressed Real Estate § 56 (2018); Gorton and Metrick, supra note 1, at 1–70; Schwarcz, supra note 1, at 135.

 [116]. The SPE may be formed as any entity; usually it will be a business trust, LLC, or limited partnership, mainly for tax reasons.

 [117]. These SPEs may even be owned by nonprofit corporations whose function is to facilitate the securitization transaction.

 [118]. See Tri Vi Dang, Gary Gorton & Bengt Holmström, The Information Sensitivity of a Security (2015), http://www.columbia.edu/~td2332/Paper_Sensitivity.pdf.

 [119]. Impact of Bankruptcy on Real Estate Transactions, in 2 Law of Real Estate Financing § 13:38 (2018).

 [120]. Mesterharm Declaration, supra note 22, at 5–6.

 [121]. Supra Section II.A.2.

 [122]. This is presumably a mechanism to reduce the costs of filing notices required under Article 9 of the UCC to assign the security interests with respect to each bondholder when the notes are sold in the secondary market.

 [123]. See 17 C.F.R. § 230.190 (2018). These costs are particularly high in the context of note programs that include multiple issuances of bonds with largely identical terms and managed by the same management company, yet each backed up by a separate pool of assets. Nigel Feetham & Grant Jones, Protected Cell Companies: A Guide to their Implementation and Use 20–23 (2d ed. 2010).

 [124]. Again, we emphasize that bankruptcy protection through the use of entities is not guaranteed. See supra Section III.G.

 [125]. See Ayotte & Gaon, supra note 18, at 1299–1335 (finding a pricing premium for bankruptcy remote instruments).

 [126]. Though note that, as discussed in Section III.G, in In re General Growth Properties, Inc., 409 B.R. 43 (Bankr. S.D.N.Y. 2009), the assets of the SPEs were all included in bankruptcy of the parent company.

 [127]. Entity-based securitization became popular only in the 1980s following the general weakening of security-based rights in bankruptcy. See White, supra note 111.

 [128]. See supra notes 102–04 and accompanying text.

 [129]. Typically, these are business that have predictable cash flows, like pub companies. See Claire A. Hill, Whole Business Securitization in Emerging Markets, 12 Duke J. Comp. & Int’l L. 521, 526 (2002).

 [130]. In practice, a SPE is actually formed, but its function is to hold the security interests, including the floating charge, on behalf of the creditors, but its function is purely to coordinate among bondholders. An SPE acts as administrator of the claims and collects payments, but because the assets are not transferred to the SPE, it is not necessary for ensuring the assets are bankruptcy remote.

 [131]. See, e.g., Kathryn Judge, Fragmentation Nodes: A Study in Financial Innovation, Complexity, and Systemic Risk, 64 Stan. L. Rev. 657, 716 (2012).

 [132]. Steven L. Schwarcz, Securitization, Structured Finance, and Covered Bonds, 39 J. Corp. L. 129, 142 (2013) (“By the end of 2008, the amount of covered bonds outstanding in Europe alone was approximately €2.38 trillion, up from €1.5 trillion in 2003.”).

 [133]. Schwarcz, supra note 93, at 567.

 [134]. See Steven L. Schwarcz, Ring-Fencing, 87 S. Cal. L. Rev. 69, 74–75 (2014).

 [135]. For background on captive insurance, see generally Jay D. Adkisson & Chris M. Riser, Asset Protection: Concepts & Strategies for Protecting Your Wealth (2004); Jay D. Adkinsson, Adkisson’s Captive Insurance Companies: An Introduction to Captives, Closely-Held Insurance Companies, and Risk Retention Groups (2006); Luke Ike, Risk Management & Captive Insurance (2016); F. Hale Stewart & Beckett G. Cantley, U.S. Captive Insurance Law (2d ed. 2015); Peter J. Strauss, The Business Owner’s Definitive Guide to Captive Insurance Companies: What You Need to Know About Formation and Management (2017) (outlining fundamentals and benefits of captive insurance for business owners); Daniel Schwarcz & Steven L. Schwarcz, Regulating Systemic Risk in Insurance, 81 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1569, 1624–26 (2014).

 [136]. A commercial insurance company would charge higher premiums to cover the risks and substantial reserves would have to be held against these risks. This business rationale is similar to the rationale for mutual insurance companies. See Henry Hansmann, The Organization of Insurance Companies: Mutual Versus Stock, 1 J.L. Econ. & Org. 125, 148–49 (1985).

 [137]. Christopher L. Culp, Structured Finance and Insurance: The Art of Managing Capital and Risk 524–25 (2006).

 [138]. Due to local regulation, there may also be a need for a local insurer, called a fronting insurer, to collect the premiums and transfer them to the captive entity.

 [139]. There are various provisions in the organizational documents of the captive and the insurance policy with the insured which impose restrictions on the use of the assets by the captive entity. But as discussed in Section II.A, these provisions are not sufficient to bind third parties.

 [140]. Del. Code Ann. tit. 18, § 6922(3)–(4) (2018).

 [141]. There are other ancillary drawbacks to using only security interests. Security interests in the funds typically require a clear definition of the secured assets, U.C.C. § 9-108 (2008), and control by the insured, id. §§ 9-104, 9-327. Although perfection by control is common, the UCC does not allow perfection through control by third parties, and complications may arise when the account is subject to a security interest by more than one creditor. See Rene Ghadimi, Common Mistakes Under the UCC, Secured Lender, May–June 2009, at 35–38, https://files.skadden.com/sites%2Fdefault%2Ffiles
%2Fpublications%2FPublications1803_0. Moreover, in some jurisdictions, security interests in deposit accounts are not permitted. See Deloitte Legal, Guide to Cross-Border Secured Transactions passim (2013), www2.deloitte.com/content/dam/Deloitte/global/Documents/Legal/dttl-legal-international-guide-to-secured-transactions-2014.pdf.

 [142]. See Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 7–10.

 [143]. Id. at 14.

 [144]. Id. at 8–10.

 [145]. John D. Morley & Quinn Curtis, Taking Exit Rights Seriously: Why Governance and Fee Litigation Don’t Work in Mutual Funds, 120 Yale L.J. 84, 88 (2010).

 [146]. John D. Morley, The Regulation of Mutual Fund Debt, 30 Yale J. on Reg. 343, 346 (2013).

 [147]. Henry Hansmann & Ugo Mattei, The Functions of Trust Law: A Comparative Legal and Economic Analysis, 73 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 434, 438–39 (1998); John Morley, The Separation of Funds and Managers: A Theory of Investment Fund Structure and Regulation, 123 Yale L.J. 1228, 1238–39 (2014).

 [148]. Hansmann & Mattei, supra note 147; Morley & Curtis, supra note 145.

 [149]. 15 U.S.C. § 80a-18(f)(1) (2012).

 [150]. A new investor has to contribute new capital and, at the time of the investment, is entitled only to that capital. Of course, the value of the pro rata share of the new investor (as well as other investors) can fluctuate, but the investor’s priorities remain fixed.

 [151]. The second indicator of priority type—the value of managerial discretion—is more equivocal for funds. On the one hand, actively managed funds are chosen in large part because their managers’ discretion is deemed valuable. On the other hand, research on actively managed funds reveals this to be largely unjustified. Many investors therefore put their money in passive funds, where manager discretion is not valued. Either way, the assets in the funds are marketable securities with very little going concern value. The managers’ ability to create value greater than the sum of its parts may be valuable in industrial companies but not in funds.

 [152]. Morley & Curtis, supra note 145, at 119. In contrast, investors in closed-end funds, who have no discretion to withdraw their investment at any time, tend to be more active in monitoring the fund managers. The fund also has greater latitude in issuing different classes of stock and bonds. Investors in those funds tend to be more sophisticated, and hence it makes sense for the priorities in these funds to be less fixed.

 [153]. Similar to securitizations, the security interest can be in the name of an agent on behalf of investors in the fund.

 [154]. This requirement could be imposed by regulation in order to ensure that all creditors comply.

 [155]. Victoria E. Schonfeld & Thomas M. J. Kerwin, Organization of a Mutual Fund, 49 Bus. Law. 107, 116 (1993) (“Multiple legal entities, however, inevitably require duplication and expense resulting from separate boards, agreements with service providers, prospectuses, periodic reports, and other regulatory filings.”). A recent article states that “it appears likely that the vast majority of funds in existence today are formed as part of a series entity.”  Joseph A. Franco, Commoditized Governance: The Curious Case of Investment Company Shared Series Trusts, 44 J. Corp. L. 233, 246 (2019). Insofar as funds are now often formed as multiple series under a single LLC or trust, it would presumably reflect asset partitioning arising out the investment company act. See ICA § 18(f)(2), 15 U.S.C. § 80a-18(f)(2) (2012) (permitting mutual funds to issue multiple securities series if and only if each series “is preferred over all other classes or series in respect of assets specifically allocated to that class or series”).

 [156]. Hansmann & Mattei, supra note 147, at 468; Morley, supra note 147, at 1271. As in the case of captive insurance, security interests would also be a cumbersome mechanism for fixing the priority of investors in mutual funds. The investors would need to file a financing statement to register their security interest and to establish control over their respective accounts. See supra note 141.

 [157]. See, e.g., Henry Hansmann, Reinier Kraakman & Richard Squire, The New Business Entities in Evolutionary Perspective, 2005 U. Ill. L. Rev. 5, 5–14 (2005).

 [158]. Other U.S. states that have protected cell legislation where many captive insurance companies incorporate include Vermont, Utah, and Nevada. See Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 56–57.

 [159]. These costs can be significant for small businesses. See id. at 7–10.

 [160]. The name “cell” emerged from the terms used by insurance companies to discuss each account in a rental captive product, in structures that used only contractual terms and security interests in an attempt to create fixed priority and bankruptcy remoteness. Id.  

 [161]. The Delaware statute seems to be based on the protected cell regime that was first adopted in countries such as Guernsey, and the segregated portfolio companies in countries such as the Cayman Islands. See Feetham & Jones, supra note 123. One difference, though, is that the statutes in offshore jurisdictions seem to be available for forming mutual funds and securitization SPEs, whereas the Delaware statute is limited to captive insurance.

 [162]. Del. Code Ann. tit. 18, § 6934(3) (2018). Also, the assets, results of operations, and financial condition of each cell must be documented separately. Id. § 6934(2).

 [163]. See supra Section IV.B.

 [164]. Del. Code Ann. tit. 18, § 6932(1)–(2).

 [165]. Id. § 6934(8).

 [166]. See id. § 6934(4)–(5).

 [167]. The priority created by the cells is symmetric in the sense that no creditors have deficiency claims to assets of the company which are not placed in their respective cells. As argued by Richard Squire, asymmetric priorities can generate shifts of value from the one creditor to another, for example, where a secured creditor can also claim on the unsecured assets. Because the creditors of each cell have no recourse to assets of other cells, the priorities are symmetric and therefore are not vulnerable to such value-shifting. See Squire, supra note 8, at 861.

 [168]. Del. Code Ann. tit. 18, § 6918.

 [169]. Id. § 6938(1). The protected cell company’s minimum capital and surplus must be available to pay claims against the protected cell company. See id. § 5911.

 [170]. Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 23–27.

 [171]. The Open-Ended Investment Companies (Amendment) Regulations 2011, SI 2011/3049, art. 3, ¶ 2 (Eng.), (“‘[S]ub-fund’ means a separate part of the property of an umbrella company that is pooled separately.”).

 [172]. Id. ¶ 11A(1).

 [173]. Id. 11A(2).

 [174]. Id. 11A(3).

 [175]. See Fin. Conduct Auth., Collective Investment Schemes § 5.5.4 (2019), http://www.handbook.fca.org.uk/handbook/COLL.pdf.

 [176]. See id. §§ 5.5.5, 5.5.7 (prohibiting mortgages of the scheme property).

 [177]. Fin. Conduct Auth., The Perimeter Guidance Manual § 9.9.2 (2019), http://www.handbook.fca.org.uk/handbook/PERG/9.pdf.

 [178]. Jane Thornton & Jane Tuckley, Winding Up an OEIC or OEIC Sub-Fund, Practical Law UK Practice Note, 0-504-3966 (2017).

 [179]. Loi du 22 mars 2004 relative à la titrisation [Law of 22 March 2004 on Securitization], Journal Officiel du Grand-Duché de Luxembourg [Official Gazette of Luxembourg], 29 Mar. 2004, art. (6)(2) (Lux.) translated in Law of 22 March 2004 on Securitisation, Commission de Surveillance du Secteur Financier [hereinafter Law of 22 March 2004 on Securitisation]. France and Italy have similar securitization laws. See Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 67, 115; Decreto Legge 14 marzo 2005, n.35, G.U. Mar. 16, 2005, n.62 (It.).

 [180]. Law of 22 March 2004 on Securitisation, art. (10)(1).

 [181]. Id. art. 10(3).

 [182]. Id. art. 12.

 [183]. Id.

 [184]. Id. art. 10(2).

 [185]. Id. art. 17.

 [186]. Id. art. 10(1).

 [187]. Securitisation Undertakings, Commission de Surveillance du Secteur Financier, http://www.cssf.lu/en/supervision/ivm/securitisation (last visited Jan. 29, 2019).

 [188]. Id. (“Securitisation undertakings subject to the 2004 Law enjoy high legal certainty because the 2004 Law expressly lays down the principles of limited recourse and non petition aiming to ensure the securitisation undertaking’s bankruptcy remoteness.” (emphasis added)).

 [189]. Del. Code Ann. tit. 6, § 18-215(a)–(c) (2018).

 [190]. Id. § 18-215(e).

 [191]. Id. § 18-215(a).

 [192]. The debts, obligations, and liabilities incurred by each series are enforceable only against that series, and creditors of the series LLC itself have no recourse against the assets held within each series. Id. § 18-215(b). For the liability shields to be effective, assets of each series and the assets of the LLC itself must be kept separate and records of the assets of each series must be maintained. Id.

 [193]. To be sure, although there is no settled law on the point, the liquidation of the LLC would appear to trigger the liquidation of the series, and to this extent, the series have no bankruptcy protection. See id. § 18-215(k) (a series is dissolved upon the dissolution of series LLC under which it is organized). Also, because each series is potentially structured as a subsidiary of an operating company (as opposed to a regulated management company with limited debt), there is greater risk that a bankruptcy court will consolidate the assets of the LLC and its series. Meredith Pohl, Taking the Series LLC Seriously: Why States Should Adopt This Innovative Business Form, 17 J. Bus. & Sec. L. 207, 229 (2017) (commenting that series LLCs by their very nature include some factors strongly weighed in substantive consolidation, in that parent LLCs create their subsidiary series; documentation for series may be minimal; and different series within an LLC may run different parts of the same business). However, creditors have notice of a series LLCs limited liability, which cuts against substantive consolidation. Id.

 [194]. See Pohl, supra note 193, at 210 n.5. A separate but similar legal form is the series trust, which is generally used to partition assets in investment funds. See generally Del. Code Ann. tit. 12, § 3806(b) (explaining that statutory trust’s governing instrument may set out management pensions). Series trusts lack legal personality. See Eric A. Mazie & J. Weston Peterson, Delaware Series Trusts—Separate but Not Equal, 16 Inv. Law. 1, 3 (2009), http://www.rlf.com/files/CorpTrust01.pdf (noting that investment professionals would find it undesirable for the purposes of SEC registration if series trusts were considered separate entities).

 [195]. Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 53–55. Some jurisdictions have adopted legislation allowing for the formation of an Incorporated Cell Company (“ICC”), which performs the same functions as a PCC, but allocates a separate entity status to each cell. See, e.g., The Companies (Guernsey) Law 2008, pt. XXVII (addressing incorporated cells); N.C. Gen. Stat. § 58-10-510 (2018) (authorizing incorporated cells); see also Feetham & Jones, supra note 123, at 129–30. Many novel forms can hold assets in their names and take legal actions, but they do not appear to have a separate legal personality. Id. at 53–55; cf. Mont. Code Ann. § 33-28-301 (2018) (permitting cell to own property while lacking legal personality).

 [196]. Other courts have confronted foreign cells and given them no better treatment. See, e.g., Arrowood Surplus Lines Ins. Co. v. Gettysburg Nat. Indem. Co., No. 3:09CV972 (JCH), 2010 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 33727, at *3 (D. Conn. Apr. 6, 2010) (requiring a Bermuda PCC to post security on behalf of its cell in excess of the cell’s assets and finding that “[i]f the [cell] is undercapitalized, defendant has recourse against the shareholders under the terms of their agreement”).

 [197]. Pac Re 5-AT v. AmTrust N. Am., Inc., No. CV-14-131-BLG-CSO, 2015 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 65541, at *1–3 (D. Mont. May 13, 2015).

 [198]. AmTrust N. Am., Inc. v. Pac. Re, Inc., No. 15-cv-7505 (CM), 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 44889, at *9 (S.D.N.Y. Mar. 25, 2016); see also id. at *7 (upholding award despite noting that the arbitrators “may have misinterpreted the applicable law . . . .”).

 [199]. Other statutory language suggests that debts of the cell are non-recourse to the parent. See Mont. Code Ann. § 33-28-301(2)(b) (2017) (“All attributions of assets and liabilities between a protected cell and the protected cell captive insurance company’s general account must be in accordance with the plan of operation and participant contracts approved by the commissioner.”).

 [200]. Id. § 33-28-301(4)–(5).

 [201]. See generally Petition to Confirm Arbitration, Ex. 1, Amtrust N. Am., Inc. v. Pac Re Inc., No. 15-cv-7505 (CM) (S.D.N.Y. May 23, 2016), ECF No. 1-1 (providing a copy of the reinsurance contract).

 [202]. Pac Re 5-AT, 2015 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 65541, at *10 (“It is clear that the liabilities and assets of a protected cell are segregated from the other cells and from the PCC.”).

 [203]. Id. at *4–5.

 [204]. AmTrust N. Am., Inc. v. Safebuilt Ins. Servs., No. 16-cv-6033 (CM), 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 153399, at *4, *18 (S.D.N.Y. Nov. 3, 2016).

 [205]. Protected Cell Risk Exposed by Court Decision: Fitch, Captive Int’l (Nov. 2, 2015), http://www.captiveinternational.com/news/protected-cell-company-risk-exposed-by-court-decision-fitch-1321.

 [206]. Infra Section IV.B.

 [207]. “[A] cell is not a separate de jure legal entity, but has many de facto aspects of a legal entity.” Pac Re 5-AT, 2015 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 65541, at *10. Thus “[w]ithout a separate legal identity, and absent a statutory grant to the contrary, a protected cell does not have the capacity to sue and be sued independent of the larger PCC.” Id. at *11. Accordingly, the court concluded that the PCC was “properly before the arbitration tribunal and will appropriately be bound by the results of the arbitration.” Id. at *11.

 [208]. Id. at *10–11.

 [209]. See Alphonse v. Arch Bay Holdings, L.L.C., 548 F. App’x 979, 984 (5th Cir. 2013) (“[T]he separate juridical status of a Series LLC with respect to third party plaintiffs remains an open question.”); Hartsel v. Vanguard Grp., Inc., No. 5394-VCP, 2011 Del. Ch. LEXIS 89, at *1–4 (Del. Ch. June 15, 2011), aff’d, 38 A.3d 1254 (Del. 2012) (holding that a series trust is not a separate legal entity); Mazie & Peterson, supra note 194, at 3, 5 (noting that investment professionals would find it undesirable for the purposes of SEC registration if series trusts were considered separate entities).

 [210]. Many cell-based regimes require cells and their parent companies to clearly designate themselves as such. See, e.g., Mont. Code Ann. § 33-28-301(2)(a)(iii) (2017) (“A protected cell must have its own distinct name or designation that must include the words ‘protected cell’ or ‘incorporated cell.’”). Under Italian law, a company can set aside up to ten percent of the company’s assets for the benefit of a designated creditor, if it provides notice in the commercial registry containing its fundamental documents. Codice Civil [C. c.] art. 2447-bis, quater (It.) (providing notice subject to Article 2436).

 [211]. This proposal is therefore distinct from the safe harbor from bankruptcy law that was once proposed for asset-backed securities. That proposal, Section 912 of the Bankruptcy Reform Act of 2001 would have excluded from a debtor’s estate “any eligible asset (or proceeds thereof), to the extent that such eligible asset was transferred by the debtor, before the date of commencement of the case, to an eligible entity in connection with an asset-backed securitization, except to the extent that such asset (or proceeds or value thereof) may be recovered by the trustee under section 550 by virtue of avoidance under section 548(a).” Bankruptcy Reform Act of 2001, H.R. 333, 107th Cong. § 912. Its effect would have been to curtail state law fraudulent conveyance actions often used to challenge entity-based securitization. Section 912 would have greatly increased the effectiveness of entity-based bankruptcy remote securitizations. By contrast, our proposal would take as a given whatever degree of bankruptcy remoteness is available through entities and provide that the same protection can be available to designated security interests.

 [212]. See, e.g., Avraham, supra note 83 (finding that seven bank holding companies own almost 15,000 subsidiaries). For example, Wells Fargo had 1270 subsidiaries in 2012, but just five accounted for 92.5% of the assets.

 [213]. See Triantis, supra note 11, at 1107 (“The more an enterprise is fragmented into discrete firms, the more significant the legal constraints on capital budgeting flexibility.”).

 [214]. For example, Dharmapala and Hebous have found that subsidiary profits tend to cluster around zero. Dhammika Dharmapala & Shafik Hebous, A Bunching Approach to Measuring Multinational Profit Shifting 32 (Working Paper, Oct. 2017). One interpretation is that firms work to move profits out of profitable operating companies. Another interpretation is that many entities are shells, the assets and profits of which are at the whim of the parent company.

 [215]. Any emphasis on non-recourse debt puts our proposal on different footing than efforts to legislatively support covered bonds in the United States. Covered bonds are ordinarily full recourse to the issuer (albeit on an unsecured basis, for the deficiency). See Schwarcz, supra note 93, at 566–67. This full or “double” recourse is part of the appeal for policymakers and investors seeking a safer alternative to securitization. See Judge, supra note 131, at 717. However, non-recourse debt has desirable properties from an asset partitioning perspective. See Squire, supra note 8, at 813–14. Apart from this important distinction, our analysis is supportive of efforts to establish an American covered bond regime.

 [216]. The automatic stay blocks payments to creditors and prevents them from seizing property. 11 U.S.C. § 362 (2012). However, it permits the trustee to make cash payments to creditors when the stay results in a decrease in the value of the property. Id. § 361(1). Courts could construe this provision liberally, recognizing that the value of assets are higher if creditors can be assured uninterrupted payments. This is particularly true where the parties could certainly have circumvented the automatic stay by structuring the transaction as a loan to a subsidiary, which is not part of the debtor’s estate.

 [217]. If an asset is isolated in an entity, creditors on other pools cannot levy on it. U.C.C. § 9-610 (Am. Law Inst. & Unif. Law Comm’n 2010) permits unsecured and deficiency creditors to dispose of collateral even if subject to a senior lien.

 [218]. Some of the literature urges altering security interests to benefit sympathetic claimants. See, e.g., Lucian Arye Bebchuk & Jesse M. Fried, The Uneasy Case for the Priority of Secured Claims in Bankruptcy, 105 Yale L.J. 857, 909 (1996); David W. Leebron, Limited Liability, Tort Victims, and Creditors, 91 Colum. L. Rev. 1565, 1643–46 (1991); Lynn M. LoPucki, The Unsecured Creditor’s Bargain, 80 Va. L. Rev. 1887, 1907–10 (1994); Elizabeth Warren, An Article 9 Set-Aside for Unsecured Creditors, 51 Consumer Fin. L.Q. Rep. 323, 325 (1997). But see Alan Schwartz, A Contract Theory Approach to Business Bankruptcy, 107 Yale L.J. 1807, 1850–51 (1998) (arguing against mandatory and retributive adjustments to party-contracted priority). A similar literature exists for the liability limitations created by entities. Compare Lynn M. LoPucki, The Death of Liability, 106 Yale L.J. 1, 1930 (1996) (arguing that entity structures can be abused to externalize costs), with Stephen M. Bainbridge, Abolishing Veil Piercing, 26 J. Corp. L. 479, 513–35 (2001) (arguing against entity disregard).

 [219]. Elizabeth Warren & Jay Lawrence Westbrook, Contracting Out of Bankruptcy: An Empirical Intervention, 118 Harv. L. Rev. 1197, 1213 (2005) (approximately 70% of the assets of bankrupt commercial debtors are pledged to secured parties).

 [220]. Compare id. (arguing that substantial inefficiencies and costs undermine the case for contractualism in bankruptcy), with Schwartz, supra note 218 (arguing for fewer barriers to free contracting in bankruptcy).

 [221]. See supra note 112 and accompanying text (describing the relative reduction of rights for secured parties post-1978).

 [222].               Richard Holden & Anup Malani, Can Blockchain Solve the Holdout Problem in Contracts? 4 (Univ. Chi. Coase-Sandor Inst. for Law & Econ., Research Paper No. 846, 2017), https://ssrn.com
/abstract=3093879.

 [223]. Id. at 5.

 [224]. Even without legal enforcement, blockchain networks are usually designed to render mechanically impossible any later transactions inconsistent with earlier ones. This feature is often praised as a solution to the double spend problem, in which the same assets are promised as payment to more than one recipient. The double spend problem is a defining feature of contractual priority schemes, in which the same assets can be pledged more than once.

 [225]. See, e.g., Kevin Werbach & Nicolas Cornell, Contracts Ex Machina, 67 Duke L.J. 313, 342 (2017) (arguing that smart contracts illuminate rather than supplant contract law). For analysis of blockchain’s potential effect on other bodies of law, see generally Michael Abramowicz, Cryptoinsurance, 50 Wake Forest L. Rev. 671 (2015); Jon O. McGinnis & Kyle Roche, Bitcoin: Order Without Law in the Digital Age (Northwestern Pub. Law, Research Paper No. 17-06., 2017), https://ssrn.com/abstract=2929133; Alexander Savelyev, Contract Law 2.0: «Smart» Contracts as the Beginning of the End of Classic Contract Law 21 (Nat’l Research Univ. Higher Sch. of Econ., Working Paper No. BRP 71/LAW/2016), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2885241 [https://perma.cc/HS7F-PF3W].

 [226]. On blockchain technology’s encroachment on security interests, see Holden & Malani, supra note 222, at 22.

 [227]. In fact, the term “distributed autonomous organization” (“DAO”) is sometimes used to describe one form of multilateral cooperation through blockchain technology without the use of a legal entity as such. On blockchain technology’s encroachment on entities, see, for example, Carla Reyes, If Rockefeller Were a Coder, 87 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. (forthcoming 2019), https://ssrn.com/abstract
=3082915 (arguing that some blockchain-based structures are business trusts); Usha R. Rodriques, Law and the Blockchain, 104 Iowa L. Rev. 679 (2019); Nick Tomaino, The Slow Death of the Firm, Control (Oct. 21, 2017), https://thecontrol.co/the-slow-death-of-the-firm-1bd6cc81286b.

 [228]. Holden & Malani, supra note 223, at 21 (describing a diner who cannot spend her savings on dinner on September 29 because it is earmarked for her October 1 rent payment, which is inconvenient because a borrower may be happy to spend her rent money on Friday and plan to earn or borrow more money on Saturday before her debts mature on Sunday—and some landlords will be willing to leave her that latitude).