Towards Defensible Judge-Made Democratic Process

What is the function of judicial review? By the stated lights of Article III (“cases” and “controversies”),1U.S. Const. art. III, § 2. to individual judges resolving cases, and to litigants asserting they have suffered an injustice, courts must fairly resolve particular disputes. Yet thanks to the wide-ranging consequences of common law decision-making and the hunger of ambitious law professors to advance novel and transformative scholarly claims, doctrine tends to be evaluated by its purported systemic effects. In election law—which explicitly bears on terms of collective participation—this contrast is especially sharp. Yet contemporary election law scholarship so thoroughly emphasizes systemic accounts that it neglects the foundation of legitimate collective self-governance: the participation and consent of individuals in politics.

The Law of Freedom aspires to return attention to this foundation. Professor Yunsieg Kim’s wonderfully insightful review draws out this point while clearing the path for the challenging but urgent analysis that future jurisprudence and scholarship must undertake. Reconciling judge-made law and constituent autonomy is an endeavor of intimidating analytic and normative complexity. An “operationally useful framework”2Yunsieg P. Kim, Liberty Before Party: The Courts as Transpartisan Defenders of Freedom, 98 S. Cal. L. Rev. Postscript 74, 92 (2025). will require courts to engage with how personal autonomy is translated into valid collective action through representation, all while diligently respecting the norms of rule of law that ameliorate the counterpopular dilemma.

Major Questions Avoidance and Anti-Avoidance

In recent years, the Supreme Court has articulated a new “major questions” doctrine that prescribes a heightened standard of judicial scrutiny for regulations that address questions of vast economic and political significance. This jurisprudential innovation incentivizes—indeed, practically invites—strategically minded agencies to engage in “major questions avoidance”: to modify their regulatory approaches in order to skirt the major questions doctrine’s consequences. This Article is the first to name the phenomenon of major questions avoidance and to develop a taxonomy of avoidance tactics. It identifies four broad categories of major questions avoidance: “slicing” a single rule into a series of smaller rules; “lumping” together regulations under different statutory authorities to achieve a common, far-reaching objective; “glossing” over a major rule in technocratic language that downplays its economic and political significance; and “bypassing” the rulemaking process via guidance documents, administrative adjudications, and enforcement actions. Agencies appear to be deploying various major questions avoidance tactics already—openly in some cases and subtly in others. Although each of these avoidance tactics is costly to pursue, agencies are likely to engage in major questions avoidance—at least some of the time—as long as the major questions doctrine remains a salient feature of the administrative law landscape.

The nascent phenomenon of major questions avoidance presents both normative and jurisprudential puzzles. Different normative theories of administrative state legitimacy lead to contrasting conclusions regarding the desirability of major questions avoidance. If major questions avoidance is a problem, courts could—in theory—try to solve it by developing new doctrines of “major questions anti-avoidance.” Yet these anti-avoidance doctrines will face their own set of logical and logistical challenges—challenges that underscore the limits of judicial power in the cat-and-mouse game between courts and strategically minded agencies. Ultimately, a clear conceptual mapping of major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance can shed new light not only on the major questions doctrine itself but also on the justifications for, constraints on, and adaptability of the modern administrative state.

Introduction

One of the first lessons that students learn in law school is the concept of “question size elasticity.” Law school instructors rarely (if ever) use the term “question size elasticity,” but they almost inevitably illustrate the concept starting on Day One. For example, when teaching Vosburg v. Putney,1Vosburg v. Putney, 50 N.W. 403 (Wis. 1891). the first case in many torts casebooks,2See James A. Henderson Jr., Preface – Why Vosburg Comes First, 1992 Wis. L. Rev. 853, 854–60 (1992) (discussing and justifying Vosburg’s frontal placement in many torts casebooks). professors often divide the central question—whether intent to harm should be a required element of the tort of battery—into a series of sub-questions (for example, whether intent to harm should be a required element when the alleged battery occurs in a touch football game, or on a crowded subway, or—as in Vosburg—in a seventh-grade classroom).3See Zigurds L. Zile, Vosburg v. Putney – A Centennial Story, 1992 Wis. L. Rev. 877, 883 (1992). Going in the opposite direction, professors often show how a seemingly self-contained doctrinal question such as the question presented in Vosburg implicates much larger questions about the structure of society (for example, how to mediate between conflicting interests in economic efficiency and bodily autonomy). By the end of their 3L year, students may not remember the particulars of the cases that they read as 1Ls, but if they were paying even a modicum of attention, they will have learned how to slice a big question into lots of littler ones and how to transform a superficially small question into a much more expansive inquiry.

The concept of question size elasticity, applicable in many legal contexts,4For example, Federal Rules of Civil Procedure section 23(a)(2) requires class action plaintiffs to demonstrate that “there are questions of law or fact common to the class.” What constitutes a “common” question—as opposed to a series of distinct questions—is itself a hotly contested question. See, e.g., Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. v. Dukes, 564 U.S. 338 (2011); Judith Resnik, Fairness in Numbers: A Comment on AT&T v. Concepcion, Wal-Mart v. Dukes, and Turner v. Rogers, 125 Harv. L. Rev. 78, 148–54 (2011). For another example, the “claim-splitting” doctrine seeks to prevent a plaintiff from splitting a single cause of action into several suits in order to avoid the effects of res judicata and claim preclusion. What makes a “single cause of action” is, unsurprisingly, not always obvious. See, e.g., Scholz v. United States, 18 F.4th 941, 951–52 (7th Cir. 2021) (examining claim-splitting doctrine). For yet another example, the rule against “piecemealing” under the National Environmental Policy Act seeks to prevent agencies from understating the environmental effects of their actions by “segmenting an overall plan into smaller parts involving action with less significant environmental effects.” Protect Our Parks, Inc. v. Buttigieg, 10 F.4th 758, 763 (7th Cir. 2021). On the challenges of determining when different actions must be considered cumulatively, see Terence L. Thatcher, Understanding Interdependence in the Natural Environment: Some Thoughts on Cumulative Impact Assessment Under the National Environmental Policy Act, 20 Env’t. L. 611 (1990). takes on particular relevance in the context of the “major questions” doctrine, possibly the most consequential new doctrine to emerge in U.S. administrative law so far this century.5Michael Coenen and Seth Davis write that, although the major questions doctrine had “precursors” in pre-2000 case law, “the majorness inquiry first crystallized in FDA v. Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp.” Michael Coenen & Seth Davis, Minor Courts, Major Questions, 70 Vand. L. Rev. 777, 787 (2017); see Food and Drug Admin. v. Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp., 529 U.S. 120 (2000). As 2000 was—technically—the last year of the last century, one might argue that the major questions doctrine is not truly a 21st century phenomenon, though, as we shall see, the doctrine has evolved since 2000, making it almost unrecognizable from the Brown & Williamson version. For an exploration of the doctrine’s roots in earlier caselaw, see Rachel Rothschild, The Origins of the Major Questions Doctrine, 100 Ind. L.J. 57 (2024). The doctrine—which prescribes a heightened standard of judicial scrutiny for agency rules that implicate questions of particular economic and political significance—played a central role in four blockbuster Supreme Court cases during the Biden presidency. These four decisions—in which the Court overturned a nearly nationwide eviction moratorium,6Ala. Ass’n of Realtors v. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., 141 S. Ct. 2485, 2484 (2021) (per curiam). struck down a COVID-19 vaccine mandate for more than 80 million U.S. workers,7Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus. v. Dep’t of Lab., 142 S. Ct. 661, 662–63 (2022) (per curiam). The “vaccine mandate” framing was arguably misleading, as the rule also could be satisfied by having employees show a negative COVID-19 test each week. Thus, the rule could have been described as a “testing mandate” instead. For an experimental evaluation of the public opinion effects of these alternative frames, see Christopher Buccafusco & Daniel J. Hemel, Framing Vaccine Mandates: Messenger and Message Effects, J.L. & Biosciences, Jan.–June 2022, at 1 (2022). stripped the Environmental Protection Agency of authority to carry out its Clean Power Plan,8West Virginia v. EPA, 142 S. Ct. 2587, 2615–16 (2022). and blocked the Department of Education from forgiving $430 billion in federal student debt9Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. 2355, 2362 (2023).—affect broad swaths of the American population and American life.10In a comment in the Harvard Law Review’s Supreme Court issue published before the student loan decision, Mila Sohoni describes the first three cases, plus the Supreme Court’s decision in Biden v. Missouri, as “the major questions quartet.” Mila Sohoni, The Major Questions Quartet, 136 Harv. L. Rev. 262, 262 (2022); see Biden v. Missouri, 142 S. Ct. 647 (2022) (per curiam). Unlike the student loan decision in Biden v. Nebraska, the Biden administration prevailed in Biden v. Missouri, in which it defended a challenge to the Department of Health and Human Services’ COVID-19 vaccine mandate for employees of Medicare- and Medicaid-funded hospitals. Biden v. Missouri, 142 S. Ct. at 650. The dissent, but not the majority, concluded that the mandate implicated a question of “vast economic and political significance.” Id. at 658 (Thomas, J., dissenting). The doctrine continues to rear its head in dozens of lower court cases and is almost certain to return to the Supreme Court soon, likely leading to the invalidation of additional agency actions.11See Natasha Brunstein, Major Questions in Lower Courts, 75 Admin. L. Rev. 661, 669–92 (2024); Erin Webb, Analysis: More Major Questions Doctrine Decisions Are Coming, Bloomberg Law: Bloomberg Law Analysis (Nov. 5, 2023, 6:00 PM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/bloomberg-law-analysis/analysis-more-major-questions-doctrine-decisions-are-coming [https://perma.cc/X5FT-HEW6].

When applied to the major questions doctrine, the concept of question size elasticity generates a number of, well, major questions. First, as a predictive matter: if a major question can be split into a series of minor questions, will agencies seek to avoid the doctrine’s consequences by slicing what would otherwise be “major” rules into smaller bits and pieces? We might call this slicing method—along with other tactics to evade the major question doctrine’s reach—“major questions avoidance.” Second, as a normative matter: if some agencies do engage in major questions avoidance at least some of the time, should we, as citizens, applaud those agencies’ avoidance tactics? Put another way, is major questions avoidance a salutary phenomenon—either as a desirable “workaround”12See Daniel A. Farber, Jonathan S. Gould & Matthew C. Stephenson, Workarounds in American Public Law, 103 Tex. L. Rev. 503, 513 (2025). to circumvent an otherwise undesirable doctrine or as exactly the sort of agency behavior that the major questions doctrine is supposed to incentivize? Or, to the contrary, is major questions avoidance a pernicious administrative tactic that agencies ought to eschew for the public good? And third, as a jurisprudential matter: to the extent that major questions avoidance is undesirable, how—if at all—should courts police the practice? Should courts construct a doctrine of major questions anti-avoidance in administrative law, just as courts have—for example—developed anti-avoidance doctrines to defend the integrity of federal tax law? And if so, what shape might a doctrine of major questions anti-avoidance take?

Rigorously thinking through the relationship between major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance can provide fresh perspectives on the major questions doctrine itself—and, more broadly, about the relationship between the judiciary and the administrative state. According to one view, well expressed by the legal scholar Blake Emerson, the Supreme Court’s invocation of the major questions doctrine “is not legal interpretation at all, but rather an exercise of raw political power.”13See Blake Emerson, The Binary Executive, 132 Yale L.J.F. 756, 772 (2022). In a similar vein, Josh Chafetz characterizes the major questions doctrine as a central element of what he calls “the new judicial power grab.”14Josh Chafetz, The New Judicial Power Grab, 67 St. Louis U. L.J. 635, 648–52 (2023). This Article—though agnostic about the desirability of the doctrine15The academic literature is overwhelmingly critical of the Court’s latest iteration of the major questions doctrine. For an important exception, see Brian Chen & Samuel Estreicher, The New Nondelegation, 102 Tex. L. Rev. 539 (2024).—suggests another possible slant on the doctrine’s power implications. When we consider potential agency responses to the major questions doctrine—along with the enormous difficulties that courts will face in policing those workarounds—our takeaway may be that the doctrine, if a judicial power grab, is one with surprisingly infirm grip. In other words, the major questions doctrine—though cited by critics as a signal example of creeping “juristocracy”16David M. Driesen, Major Questions and Juristocracy, Reg. Rev. (Jan. 31, 2022), https://www.theregreview.org/2022/01/31/driesen-major-questions-juristocracy [https://perma.cc/VDV7-2XFH]; see Nathan Richardson, Antideference: Covid, Climate, and the Rise of the Major Questions Canon, 108 Va. L. Rev. Online 174, 206 (2022) (warning of “[t]he danger of major questions juristocracy”).—may, at the end of the day, reveal as much about judicial power’s limits as about its reach.

Part I of this Article provides a brief overview of the major questions doctrine and defines the concept of major questions avoidance. Part II considers whether, when, and why agencies may (or may not) choose to engage in major questions avoidance. Part III evaluates major questions avoidance from a normative perspective, showing how four different theories of the administrative state’s legitimacy lead to very different conclusions regarding major questions avoidance. Part IV looks forward to the next move in the chess game between agencies and courts, asking whether and how courts can construct a doctrine of major questions anti-avoidance. Along the way, the analysis highlights the difficulties that even an ideologically motivated judiciary will face if it seeks to prevent administrative agencies from resolving questions of vast economic and political significance.

I. The Major Questions Doctrine and Major Questions Avoidance

A. The Major Questions Doctrine(s)

For years, a popular parlor game among administrative law scholars involved counting the number of Chevron steps. As formulated by Justice Stevens in the 1984 case that gave the Chevron doctrine its name, judicial review of agency statutory interpretation is a two-step process: is the statute ambiguous (Step One) and, if so, has the agency adopted a “permissible construction of the statute” (Step Two)?17See Chevron U.S.A., Inc. v. Nat. Res. Def. Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837, 842–44 (1984). Thomas Merrill and Kristin Hickman later argued that in practice, an additional step precedes Steps One and Two—Chevron “Step Zero”—at which courts determine whether an agency’s statutory interpretation is even eligible for Chevron deference.18See Thomas W. Merrill & Kristin E. Hickman, Chevron’s Domain, 89 Geo. L.J. 833, 836 (2001); see also Cass R. Sunstein, Chevron Step Zero, 92 Va. L. Rev. 187, 191 & n.19 (2006) (attributing the term “Chevron Step Zero” to Merrill and Hickman). William Jordan interpreted the Supreme Court’s decision in United States v. Mead Corp.19United States v. Mead Corp., 533 U.S. 218 (2001). as “erect[ing] a new four step test to replace what we once knew as the Chevron two step.”20William S. Jordan, III, Judicial Review of Informal Statutory Interpretations: The Answer Is Chevron Step Two, Not Christensen or Mead, 54 Admin. L. Rev. 719, 725 (2002). Matthew Stephenson and Adrian Vermeule responded with an article provocatively titled: “Chevron Has Only One Step.”21See Matthew C. Stephenson & Adrian Vermeule, Chevron Has Only One Step, 95 Va. L. Rev. 597, 597–98 (2009). Aaron Nielson and I argued that courts have created a half-step between Steps One and Two—what we called “Chevron Step One-and-a-Half.”22Daniel J. Hemel & Aaron L. Nielson, Chevron Step One-and-a-Half, 84 U. Chi. L. Rev. 757, 759–61 (2017). Judges got in on the Chevron step-counting exercise, too.23See, e.g., Ali v. Barr, 951 F.3d 275, 279 (5th Cir. 2020) (referring to “Chevron Step Zero” and attributing the term to “[a]dministrative-law wonks”); Conservation L. Found., Inc. v. Longwood Venues & Destinations, Inc., 422 F. Supp. 3d 435, 454 (D. Mass. 2019) (adopting the “Chevron Step One-and-a-Half” terminology). Much fun was had by all.

With the Chevron doctrine now dead24See Loper Bright Enters. v. Raimondo, 144 S. Ct. 2244, 2273 (2024) (“Chevron is overruled.”).—or at least, “mostly dead”25See Adrian Vermeule, Chevron by Any Other Name, The New Digest (June 28, 2024), https://thenewdigest.substack.com/p/chevron-by-any-other-name [https://perma.cc/HKR4-6CVN] (arguing that “much or most” of Chevron deference may be “recreated under a different label: ‘Loper Bright delegation’ ”). Cf. William Goldman, The Princess Bride 313 (First Harvest International ed., Harcourt Inc. 2007) (1973) (“ ‘You see,’ Max explained . . . , ‘there’s different kinds of dead: there’s sort of dead, mostly dead, and all dead.’ ”).—counting the versions of the major questions doctrine is the newest administrative law numbers game. Cass Sunstein has argued that there are actually two major questions doctrines.26Cass R. Sunstein, There Are Two “Major Questions” Doctrines, 73 Admin. L. Rev. 475, 477 (2021). Jody Freeman and Matthew Stephenson count three different iterations.27See Jody Freeman & Matthew C. Stephenson, The Anti-Democratic Major Questions Doctrine, 2022 Sup. Ct. Rev. 1, 5 (2022) (“We can discern in the case law three different versions of the MQD . . . .”). Louis Capozzi writes that after West Virginia v. EPA, the 2022 Clean Power Plan case, “[t]here is one version of the major questions doctrine” still standing.28Louis J. Capozzi III, The Past and Future of the Major Questions Doctrine, 84 Ohio St. L.J. 191, 223 (2023).

In all of its iterations, the major questions doctrine applies more searching judicial review to “agency decisions of vast ‘economic and political significance.’ ”29Util. Air Regul. Grp. v. EPA, 573 U.S. 302, 324 (2014) (quoting FDA v. Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp., 529 U.S. 120, 160 (2000)). The various versions of the major questions doctrine differ in what that more searching review entails. In one version, the “majorness” of an agency’s assertion of statutory authority is a factor weighing against that reading.30See Freeman & Stephenson, supra note 27, at 5–6. This version of the major questions doctrine evokes Justice Scalia’s statement that Congress “does not . . . hide elephants in mouseholes”31Whitman v. Am. Trucking Ass’ns, 531 U.S. 457, 468 (2001).—that an interpretation of a statute is less plausible if it ascribes extraordinary consequences to “vague terms or ancillary provisions.”32Id. In a second version, the majorness of an agency decision was a reason for courts to deny Chevron deference and interpret the relevant statute de novo. This version33See Freeman & Stephenson, supra note 27, at 6.—which was on clearest display in the Supreme Court’s 2015 King v. Burwell decision34See King v. Burwell, 576 U.S. 473, 485–86 (2015).—faces an uncertain future in a post-Chevron world.35The Supreme Court’s decision in Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo, which formally overruled Chevron, leaves open the possibility that “the best reading of a statute is that it delegates discretionary authority to an agency.” Loper Bright Enters. v. Raimondo, 144 S. Ct. 2244, 2249 (2024); see Vermeule, supra note 25 (explaining that the major questions doctrine may remain relevant in determining whether an agency is acting within or beyond the bounds of its discretionary authority). In a third version, majorness is a reason to reject an agency’s interpretation of a statute unless Congress has issued a “clear statement” authorizing the agency’s assertion of power.36See West Virginia v. EPA, 142 S. Ct. 2587, 2614 (2022) (stating that the requirement of “clear congressional authorization” distinguishes the “major questions doctrine”); see id. at 2616 (Gorsuch, J., concurring) (describing the major questions doctrine as a “clear statement” rule). Freeman and Stephenson describe this third, “most aggressive” version of the major questions doctrine as a “novel judicial innovation” that had not been embraced by the Supreme Court until West Virginia v. EPA in 2022.37Freeman & Stephenson, supra note 27, at 20.

All of these versions require courts to somehow distinguish major questions from minor ones. None of the Supreme Court’s cases give concrete guidance on the ingredients of majorness, though they do provide potentially instructive examples. In cases where it has found a question to be major, the Court has cited—among other factors—the population of people affected,38See Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus. v. Dep’t of Lab., 142 S. Ct. 661, 665 (2022) (per curiam) (finding that OSHA’s vaccine mandate implicated a major question when the agency “has ordered 84 million Americans to either obtain a COVID-19 vaccine or undergo weekly medical testing at their own expense”). the amount of money at stake,39See Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. 2355, 2373 (2023) (finding that the Department of Education’s forgiveness of student debt implicated a major question when the program was estimated to cost taxpayers “between $469 billion and $519 billion”). the rule’s geographic reach,40See Ala. Ass’n of Realtors v. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., 141 S. Ct. 2485, 2486, 2488 (2021) (per curiam). and the number of sectors that could be affected by the agency’s interpretation.41See Util. Air Regul. Grp. v. EPA, 573 U.S. 302, 311 (2014). Other factors cited by the Court in major questions cases include whether the

rule finds precedent in past agency practice42See, e.g., West Virginia v. EPA, 142 S. Ct. 2587, 2608 (2022); see also Richard L. Revesz & Max Sarinsky, Regulatory Antecedents and the Major Questions Doctrine, 36 Geo. Env’t L. Rev. 1, 6–13 (2023) (discussing the role of “regulatory novelty” in major questions cases); cf. Leah M. Litman, Debunking Antinovelty, 66 Duke L.J. 1407, 1407 (2017) (identifying a similar bias against “legislative novelty” in Roberts Court cases). Beau Baumann suggests a “two-step” framing of the major questions doctrine “requiring (1) economic or political significance and (2) an extraordinary assertion of agency power.” According to this view, the scope of the challenged regulation would enter the analysis at step one; novelty would be a factor considered at step two. See Beau J. Baumann, Volume IV of The Major Questions Doctrine Reading List, Yale J. on Regul. (Aug. 14, 2023), https://www.yalejreg.com/nc/volume-iv-of-the-major-questions-doctrine-reading-list-by-beau-j-baumann [https://perma.cc/3RYS-KSUM]. and whether the rule lies within the agency’s “sphere of expertise.”43See, e.g., Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus., 142 S. Ct. at 665.

The emphasis in major questions cases on the scope of the challenged regulation raises a possibility that scholarship has only begun to probe: if the majorness of an agency interpretation depends, in part, on the number of people, industries, or regions affected by the relevant rule or by the rule’s dollar-denominated costs, can an agency duck the major questions doctrine by slicing a larger rule into smaller bits and pieces?44The phrase “major questions avoidance” is original to this Article, though as discussed later in this Section, other scholars have anticipated some of the ways in which agencies might circumvent the major questions doctrine, and some agencies appear to have engaged in forms of major questions avoidance already. Although the Court has never stipulated a specific population threshold, dollar threshold, or other numerical criterion for majorness, its major questions cases so far indicate—and common sense would suggest as well—that smaller-in-scope rules are less major than larger rules. And in the major questions doctrine era, rules that do not implicate the major questions doctrine would seem to have a better chance of surviving judicial scrutiny than rules that do.

B. Major Questions Avoidance

Just as the major questions doctrine comes in multiple flavors, major questions avoidance does too. Broadly, “major questions avoidance” refers to any tactic by which an agency changes the form or substance of its regulations in order to avoid the application of the major questions doctrine while achieving similar—though not necessarily identical—results. We can divide the broad category of major questions avoidance into at least four subcategories: “slicing,” “lumping,”45I borrow the “slicing” and “lumping” terminology from Lee Fennell. See Lee Anne Fennell, Slices and Lumps: Division and Aggregation in Law and Life (2019). “glossing,” and “bypassing.” This Section considers each in turn.

  1. “Slicing”

“Slicing” refers to a type of major questions avoidance in which an agency divides a larger rule into several smaller ones. For example, when the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (“CDC”) restricted evictions during the COVID-19 crisis, the agency engaged in a form of temporal slicing: it issued a series of time-limited eviction prohibitions with durations of one,46Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 86 Fed. Reg. 34010, 34010 (June 28, 2021). two,47Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 86 Fed. Reg. 8020, 8021 (Feb. 3, 2021); Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions in Communities with Substantial or High Transmission of COVID-19 to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 86 Fed. Reg. 43244, 43244 (Aug. 6, 2021). three,48Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 86 Fed. Reg. 16731, 16734 (Mar. 31, 2021). and four49Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 85 Fed. Reg. 55292, 55292 (Sept. 4, 2020). months. It was only after the fifth iteration of the CDC’s moratorium that the Supreme Court struck down the agency’s action, stating that “the sheer scope of the CDC’s claimed authority” required a clear authorization from Congress.50See Ala. Ass’n of Realtors v. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., 141 S. Ct. 2485, 2489 (2021) (per curiam).

Time is not the only dimension along which agencies might “slice.” Agencies also might slice geographically. For example, instead of issuing a single rule for the entire country, the CDC could have promulgated a series of geographically limited, temporally overlapping moratoria with a combined effect approaching—if not equaling—a nationwide rule.51The final version of the CDC eviction moratorium applied to eighty percent of U.S. counties—those with “substantial” or “high” levels of community COVID-19 transmission. See Temporary Halt in Residential Evictions in Communities with Substantial or High Transmission of COVID-19 to Prevent the Further Spread of COVID-19, 86 Fed. Reg. 43244, 43246 (Aug. 6, 2021). Approximately ninety percent of the U.S. population lived in the covered counties. See Kaitlan Collins, Phil Mattingly, Kevin Liptak, John Harwood & Maggie Fox, CDC Announces Limited, Targeted Eviction Moratorium Until Early October, CNN (Aug. 3, 2021, 6:23 PM), https://www.cnn.com/2021/08/03/politics/eviction-moratorium-high-covid-spread/index.html [https://perma.cc/J6XA-LZ4X]. Alternatively, agencies might slice by industry. For example, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration—instead of issuing a vaccination and testing rule for nearly all private employers with at least one hundred employees52See Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus. v. Dep’t of Lab., 142 S. Ct. 661, 663 (2022) (per curiam).—could have issued a series of industry-specific rules that, in the aggregate, reach most or all sectors of the economy. The Environmental Protection Agency (“EPA”) arguably engaged in a form of industry slicing in early 2024 when it split its greenhouse gas emissions limits for existing coal-fired and natural gas-fired power plants into two rules—proceeding immediately with the rule for existing coal plants while stating that it would delay the rule for existing gas plants for at least several more months.53See Jean Chemnick, Biden’s EPA Postponing Major Piece of Power Plant Climate Rule, Politico (Feb. 29, 2024, 6:56 PM), https://www.politico.com/news/2024/02/29/epa-weakens-gas-power-plant-climate-rule-00144309 [https://perma.cc/JT6E-D8SD]. The carveout applied only to existing natural gas plants—new gas plants are subject to the limits. See id.; New Source Performance Standards for Greenhouse Gas Emissions from New, Modified, and Reconstructed Fossil Fuel-Fired Electric Generating Units, 89 Fed. Reg. 39798, 39798 (May 9, 2024).

Slicing can theoretically result in total or partial avoidance of the major questions doctrine. Imagine, for example, that an agency wishes to apply a single rule, R, to twenty-six industries labeled A through Z. Total avoidance would occur if the agency issues twenty-six identical versions of rule R, each for a single industry, and all pursuant to the same statutory authority. Partial avoidance could occur if the agency modifies the rule for each industry such that rule Ra applies to industry A, Rb applies to industry B, and so on, all the way through Rz for industry Z, where all of these industry-specific rules are substantively similar but none are carbon copies of each other. Partial avoidance also might occur if the agency applies rule R to some subset of industries—perhaps to A, C, and E but not B, D, and F—with the upshot that a large slice but not all of the economy is covered by R. Thus, partial avoidance allows an agency to achieve much of—though not all of—what it would have sought to achieve in the absence of the major questions doctrine.

Concededly, the slicing subcategory is blurry around the edges. At what point does an agency’s response to the major questions doctrine cease to be “avoidance via slicing” and simply become a downsizing of the relevant rule? For example, if an agency wishes to impose rule R on industries A through Z but—fearing the major questions doctrine—settles on applying rule R to industry A alone, then the agency has not “avoided” the major questions doctrine at all; the agency has been thwarted. There is no clear line between A and Z at which frustration turns into partial avoidance. In this respect, major questions avoidance is as fuzzy as the majorness element of the major questions doctrine itself.

Even though slicing—at least when it results in partial avoidance—may be difficult to distinguish from frustration, slicing still can be a useful concept. For our purposes, “slicing” occurs when an agency issues a series of narrower rules pursuant to the same statutory authority. As we shall see, this feature—multiple rules pursuant to the same authority—serves to distinguish slicing from its closest cousin: “lumping.” The import of the distinction between slicing and lumping—though it may seem pedantic at this juncture—will become clearer when we consider potential judicial countertactics in Part IV.

  1. “Lumping”

“Lumping” refers to a type of major questions avoidance in which an agency promulgates multiple rules pursuant to different statutory authorities to reproduce the effect of a single rule that, if it had been issued on its own, would or could have implicated the major questions doctrine. In other words, the agency “lumps” together several different regulations under different statutory delegations to achieve a common policy goal that—if pursued in a single rule under a single statutory authority—would have risen to the level of majorness. Lumping, as we will see, is a strategy that agencies undoubtedly pursued to circumvent the major questions doctrine under the Biden administration. Whether it will continue under the second Trump administration is—as of this writing in early 2025—not yet clear, as all except the most obvious cases of lumping will be very difficult to detect.

The clearest example of lumping from the Biden years is the Department of Education’s response to the Supreme Court decision to block the cancellation of $430 billion in student loan debt.54See Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. 2355, 2358–59 (2023). In its first stab at large-scale debt cancellation—the effort thwarted by the Court’s 2023 decision—the department relied on language in the Higher Education Relief Opportunities for Students Act of 2003 (“HEROES Act”) authorizing the Secretary of Education to “waive or modify” the provisions of several federal student loan programs in order to protect recipients from the financial consequences of a “national emergency.”55Higher Education Relief Opportunities for Students Act of 2003, Pub. L. No. 108–76, § 2(a), 117 Stat. 904, 904–05 (2003). The Department of Education argued that the COVID-19 pandemic—undoubtedly a national emergency—justified the invocation of its HEROES Act authority. Invoking the major questions doctrine, the Court held that “[h]owever broad the meaning of ‘waive or modify,’ that language cannot authorize the kind of exhaustive rewriting of the statute that has taken place here.”56Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. at 2370–71.

Thwarted in its effort to use the Department of Education’s “waive or modify” authority under the HEROES Act, the Biden administration vowed to find other statutory means of relieving student debt.57Press Release, President Joe Biden, Statement from President Joe Biden on Supreme Court Decision on Student Loan Debt Relief (June 30, 2023), https://bidenwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2023/06/30/statement-from-president-joe-biden-on-supreme-court-decision-on-student-loan-debt-relief [https://perma.cc/4YX3-3PR5]. Just eleven months after the Supreme Court’s ruling, the administration announced that without relying on the HEROES Act, it had successfully canceled $167 billion in student debt for 4.75 million borrowers through a series of smaller rules under different statutory authorities.58See Press Release, Biden-Harris Administration Announces Additional $7.7 Billion in Approved Student Debt Relief for 160,000 Borrowers (May 22, 2024), https://www.ed.gov/news/press-releases/biden-harris-administration-announces-additional-77-billion-approved-student-debt-relief-160000-borrowers [https://web.archive.org/web/20250116075000/https://www.ed.gov/about/news/press-release/biden-harris-administration-announces-additional-77-billion-approved]. Furthermore, the administration averred, there were still additional loan forgiveness measures to come. “President Biden will not stop fighting to cancel more student debt for as many Americans as possible,” the White House declared.59Press Release, The White House, President Joe Biden Outlines New Plans to Deliver Student Debt Relief to Over 30 Million Americans Under the Biden-⁠Harris Administration (Apr. 8, 2024), https://bidenwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/08/president-joe-biden-outlines-new-plans-to-deliver-student-debt-relief-to-over-30-million-americans-under-the-biden-harris-administration [https://perma.cc/W8RJ-6GR2]. (Some of those measures were subsequently blocked by the Eighth Circuit.)60See Missouri v. Biden, 738 F. Supp. 3d 1113, 1124 (E.D. Mo. 2024).

The Biden administration’s response to the Court’s Clean Power Plan decision offers a somewhat less overt example of major questions avoidance. Promulgated under President Obama and then rescinded during President Trump’s first term, the Clean Power Plan leveraged the EPA’s authority under section 111 of the Clean Air Act to set emissions standards at the level achievable through the “best system of emission reduction” that has been satisfactorily demonstrated.61Standards of Performance for New Stationary Sources, 42 U.S.C. § 7411(a)(1). The EPA interpreted that language to authorize it to prescribe “generation shifting”: the nation’s electricity grids would be required to replace high-emitting coal plants with increased electricity generation from natural gas plants and renewable sources such as wind and solar.62West Virgina v. EPA, 142 S. Ct. 2587, 2593 (2022) (citation omitted). The “best system,” in other words, involved taking coal plants out of commission and substituting cleaner energy. The Court in West Virginia v. EPA rejected that reading of the statute: “As a matter of ‘definitional possibilities,’ generation shifting can be described as a ‘system,’ ” Chief Justice Roberts wrote for the Court, but “a vague statutory grant is not close to the sort of clear authorization required by our precedents” for a rule as “major” as the EPA’s.63Id. at 2614.

In the wake of the West Virginia decision, the Biden administration—which had never actually tried to reinstate the Obama administration’s Clean Power Plan—pursued a series of coal-related rulemakings that did not rely on its predecessor’s contentious reading of section 111 as allowing “generation shifting.” These efforts culminated in April 2024 when the EPA Administrator announced a “suite of final rules” to reduce coal power plant emissions.64Press Release, EPA, Biden-Harris Administration Finalizes Suite of Standards to Reduce Pollution from Fossil Fuel–Fired Power Plants (Apr. 25, 2024), https://www.epa.gov/newsreleases/biden-harris-administration-finalizes-suite-standards-reduce-pollution-fossil-fuel [https://perma.cc/KT5V-VRX9]. One of these rules, mentioned above in the context of slicing,65See supra note 53 and accompanying text. requires existing coal power plants to install carbon capture and storage systems—a more traditional interpretation of the “best system” language in section 111 than the Clean Power Plan.66New Source Performance Standards for Greenhouse Gas Emissions from New, Modified, and Reconstructed Fossil Fuel–Fired Electric Generating Units, 89 Fed. Reg. 39798, 39799 (May 9, 2024). A second rule, promulgated under section 112 of the Clean Air Act rather than section 111, sets new limits on emissions of mercury and other air toxics from coal facilities.67National Emission Standards for Hazardous Air Pollutants, 89 Fed. Reg. 38508, 38508 (May 7, 2024). A third rule relies on the EPA’s authority under an entirely different statute—the Clean Water Act—to impose more stringent restrictions on water discharges from coal plants.68Supplemental Effluent Limitations Guidelines and Standards for the Steam Electric Power Generating Point Source Category, 89 Fed. Reg. 40198, 40199 (May 9, 2024). “Taken together,” observed a New York Times news analysis, “the regulations could deliver a death blow in the United States to coal.”69Lisa Friedman & Coral Davenport, E.P.A. Severely Limits Pollution from Coal-Burning Power Plants, N.Y. Times (Apr. 25, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/25/climate/biden-power-plants-pollution.html [https://perma.cc/482W-YQJ2]. Put another way, the suite of regulations seeks to accomplish the same ultimate goal that the Clean Power Plan pursued: to force a shift away from coal and toward cleaner energy sources across the U.S. electric grid.70Whether these new rules will survive judicial review remains an open question. See Niina H. Farah & Lesley Clark, Lawsuits Mount Against Biden Power Plant Rule, E&E News by Politico (May 13, 2024, 1:38 PM), https://www.eenews.net/articles/lawsuits-mount-against-biden-power-plant-rule [https://perma.cc/Y7HC-LVTE]; Niina H. Farah & Lesley Clark, 5 Takeaways from the Biden Carbon Rule’s Big Day at the DC Circuit, E&E News by Politico (Dec. 9, 2024, 6:15 AM), https://www.eenews.net/articles/5-takeaways-from-the-biden-carbon-rules-big-day-at-the-dc-circuit [https://perma.cc/9WTV-EMLN]. As of this writing, it was not yet clear whether a second Trump administration would seek to rescind the rules. See Jean Chemnick, New Option for Trump: Repeal, but Not Replace, Climate Rules, E&E News by Politico (Feb. 5, 2025, 6:09 AM), https://www.eenews.net/articles/new-option-for-trump-repeal-but-not-replace-climate-rules [https://perma.cc/2KHZ-YTCN].

One factor that distinguishes the coal case from the student loan case is that in the student loan case, we know that the Department of Education adopted its lumping strategy in response to the major questions doctrine. We know that because the Department of Education tried to implement its student debt cancellation plan pursuant to the HEROES Act and then shifted to other statutory authorities only after the Supreme Court blocked the HEROES Act effort on major questions grounds. In the coal case, by contrast, we do not know whether, in the absence of the West Virginia decision, the Biden administration EPA would have updated its predecessor’s Clean Power Plan—adopting the same reading of section 111 as authorizing generation shifting—or whether in the first instance the Biden EPA would have promulgated a potpourri of rules under both the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act. What we can say is that when the major questions doctrine foreclosed one possible regulatory approach to coal, the Biden administration chose another.

As examples of lumping, the series of student debt cancellations and coal-focused EPA rules are arguably more alike than different. What makes them alike—and different from many other potential cases of lumping—is that they came after, not in anticipation of, a court ruling that blocked an alternate regulatory route on major questions grounds. In other cases, major questions avoidance via lumping may occur more subtly. One or more agencies may issue a series of rules in service of a common goal without first trying and failing to achieve the same objective through a larger rule pursuant to a single statutory authority. We might never know whether this series of rules reflects major questions avoidance because we cannot observe the counterfactual world without the major questions doctrine hanging overhead. Even the administration officials involved in the decision to pursue the series of rules might not be able to say definitively that the strategy reflects major questions avoidance: fear of the major questions doctrine may have been one among several factors favoring the more incremental approach, and no single policymaker may know for sure whether the major questions doctrine was outcome-determinative.

This last point regarding the difficulty of detecting lumping will become particularly significant to the analysis in Part IV, when we consider whether the courts can combat avoidance through a doctrine of major questions anti-avoidance. If major questions avoidance is difficult to detect, it also may be difficult to deter. Thus, while lumping may be a less obvious example of avoidance than slicing, the non-obviousness of lumping may turn out to be exactly what makes it such an effective avoidance strategy.

  1. “Glossing”

Whereas slicing and lumping entail changes to the scope and substance of agency regulations, “glossing” affects rules only on the surface. Glossing occurs when agency officials or others within the administration describe a rule in terms tailored to downplay its majorness. Even before the Court’s quartet of major questions decisions starting in 2021, Blake Emerson observed that the major questions doctrine alters agencies’ rhetorical incentives. “Because the doctrine generally forbids agencies from making decisions of great economic and political significance,” Emerson wrote, “it encourages agencies to explain themselves in technocratic terms, even if significant questions of value are at issue.” Emerson added: “If agencies know that courts will decline to defer to them if they detect agency consideration of important questions of political value, they will invariably explain their interpretations of statutory ambiguities in a way that makes them appear purely technical.”71Blake Emerson, Administrative Answers to Major Questions: On the Democratic Legitimacy of Agency Statutory Interpretation, 102 Minn. L. Rev. 2019, 2085 (2018); see also Blake Emerson, The Public’s Law: Origins and Architecture of Progressive Democracy 180 (2019) (“If courts may deprive agencies of their deliberative discretion whenever they think the issue is a significant one, agencies will have strong incentives to treat every regulatory matter as clerical and noncontroversial.”). They will, to use this Article’s terminology, “gloss.”

Although glossing is a potential response to the major questions doctrine, it may not be—as Emerson suggests—an “invariabl[e]” response. Jody Freeman and Matthew Stephenson agree with Emerson that “executive branch lawyers might well start advising agencies to make their rules seem smaller in scope, more incremental, and more technocratic, and suggesting that the President, agency officials, and other supporters avoid talking about how these rules contribute to some larger policy agenda or help address some big national problem.”72Freeman & Stephenson, supra note 27, at 32. But Freeman and Stephenson add that “this advice goes against the grain, since most political appointees are eager to tout their regulatory accomplishments, and presidents want to demonstrate strong leadership by publicizing and claiming credit for what their agencies are doing.”73Id. at 32–33. Whether the litigation-driven incentive to gloss will outweigh the political incentive to trumpet the majorness of a regulatory initiative may depend on—among other factors—the distance to the next election, the relative influence of an agency’s general counsel vis-à-vis other officials, and the career ambitions of the agency head who promulgates the relevant rule.

So far, we have seen some examples of glossing and some examples of administration officials issuing statements that defy the rhetorical incentives generated by the major questions doctrine. As a possible example of glossing, then-CDC Director Rochelle Walensky said on National Public Radio in August 2021—when announcing an additional two-month extension of the agency’s eviction moratorium—that the “new, tailored order” was focused specifically on “areas of highest transmission” that faced the “most public health challenges.”74Mary Louise Kelly, Courtney Dorning & Lauren Hodges, CDC Director On Global Vaccine Deliveries, Variants, Masks and Mass Eviction Threats, NPR (Aug. 3, 2021, 4:26 PM), https://www.npr.org/2021/08/03/1024338498/cdc-director-on-global-vaccine-deliveries-variants-masks-and-mass-eviction-threa [https://perma.cc/Q555-FR79]. In fact, the August 2021 moratorium—though slightly narrower in geographic scope than the previous nationwide eviction prohibition—still covered ninety percent of the U.S. population.75See id.; see supra note 51. President Biden’s unbridled celebration of his administration’s student debt forgiveness efforts offers a contrary example of “anti-glossing”: an administration official—here, the highest-ranking administration official—explicitly emphasizing that an agency initiative represents an end–run around the major questions doctrine. “[T]he Supreme Court blocked us,” President Biden told an audience at a college in Wisconsin in May 2024, but “that didn’t stop us. . . . We continue to find alternative paths to reduce student debt payments . . . that are not challengeable.”76President Joe Biden, Remarks by President Biden on His Student Loan Debt Relief Plan for Tens of Millions of Americans | Madison, Wisconsin (Apr. 8, 2024, 1:26 PM), https://bidenwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2024/04/08/remarks-by-president-biden-on-his-student-loan-debt-relief-plan-for-tens-of-millions-of-americans-madison-wisconsin [https://perma.cc/E6QS-4N4A]. Republican Attorneys General from seven states did, indeed, seek to block those “alternative paths,” alleging that the Biden administration’s approach still violated the major questions doctrine.77Missouri v. Biden, 738 F. Supp. 3d 1113, 1123, 1134 (E.D. Mo. 2024). And as noted, that challenge succeeded in delaying some—though not all—of the Biden administration’s student debt relief measures.78See supra note 60 and accompanying text.

  1. “Bypassing”

A fourth form of major questions anti-avoidance is “bypassing,” whereby an agency sidesteps the rulemaking process altogether by pursuing its objectives through guidance documents, administrative adjudications, or enforcement actions. I borrow the “bypass” label from Jennifer Nou, who applies it in a different context to refer to similar tactics—including guidance, adjudication, and enforcement—that agencies use to insulate themselves from review by the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs within the White House Office of Management and Budget.79Jennifer Nou, Agency Self-Insulation Under Presidential Review, 126 Harv. L. Rev. 1755, 1782–90 (2013). Here, the impetus to use guidance documents, adjudications, and enforcement actions is not to escape White House review but to reduce the probability that judicial review will result in invalidation under the major questions doctrine.

A possible example of bypassing is the Department of Health and Human Services’ response to the Supreme Court’s 2022 ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, which overturned fifty years of precedent and withdrew constitutional protections for induced abortion.80Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228 (2022). Following that ruling, the Department of Health and Human Services issued a guidance document stating that the federal Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act (“EMTALA”), which applies to virtually all hospitals in the United States, requires physicians at covered hospitals to perform abortions in cases where abortion is necessary to resolve an emergency medical condition.81Memorandum from the Dirs., Quality, Safety & Oversight Grp. & Surv. et al., to the State Surv. Agency Dirs., Reinforcement of EMTALA Obligations Specific to Patients Who Are Pregnant or Are Experiencing Pregnancy Loss (QSO-21-22-Hospitals—Updated July 2022), at 1 (July 11, 2022), https://www.cms.gov/files/document/qso-22-22-hospitals.pdf [https://perma.cc/DBA3-LCH5]. The guidance added that “[w]hen a state law prohibits abortion and does not include an exception for the life of the pregnant person—or draws the exception more narrowly than EMTALA’s emergency medical condition definition—that state law is preempted.”82Id. Unlike other interpretations of EMTALA that have taken the form of regulations,83See, e.g., Medicare Program; Hospital Responsibility for Emergency Care, 59 Fed. Reg. 32086, 32120 (June 22, 1994); Medicare Program; Rural Emergency Hospitals, 87 Fed. Reg. 71748, 72309 (Nov. 23, 2022). The full compilation of EMTALA rules is at 42 C.F.R. 489.24 (2025). the Department declined to initiate a rulemaking process with respect to its abortion interpretation.

Undeterred by the fact that the Department’s interpretation came in the form of a guidance document rather than a rule, the Texas Attorney General—along with two groups of pro-life physicians—challenged the interpretation in federal district court, arguing among other points that the Department’s guidance ran headlong into the major questions doctrine because it resolved an “issue of vast policy and political significance” without clear authorization from Congress.84Plaintiffs’ Brief in Support of Motion for Temporary Restraining Order & Preliminary Injunction at 19, Texas v. Becerra, 623 F. Supp. 3d 696 (N.D. Tex. 2022) (No. 5:22-CV-00185-H). The Department responded that unlike the rules struck down by courts in earlier major questions cases, the EMTALA guidance was “not final agency action subject to judicial review” because it merely interpreted the statute and did not determine the rights or obligations of any party.85Defendants’ Brief in Support of Their Motion to Dismiss at 23, Texas v. Becerra, 623 F. Supp. 3d 696 (No. 22-00185-H). Both the federal district court and the Fifth Circuit rejected the Department’s finality argument, concluding that the guidance document reflected a new policy with concrete legal consequences that had all the indicia of final agency action.86See Texas v. Becerra, 89 F.4th 529, 538–41 (5th Cir. 2024); Texas v. Becerra, 623 F. Supp. 3d at 720–24. In compliance with the district court injunction, the Department is not enforcing its EMTALA guidance in the state of Texas or against members of the two pro-life physicians’ groups while it seeks Supreme Court review, though it is continuing to enforce the guidance throughout the rest of the country.87Press Release, U.S. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., Biden-Harris Administration Reaffirms Commitment to EMTALA Enforcement, at n.3 (July 2, 2024), https://www.hhs.gov/about/news/2024/07/02/biden-harris-administration-reaffirms-commitment-emtala-enforcement.html [https://perma.cc/5KER-PJYZ]. The Supreme Court dismissed a separate challenge to the EMTALA guidance arising out of Idaho in Moyle v. United States, 144 S. Ct. 2015, 2016 (2024).

Time will tell whether bypass via guidance document can succeed in other circumstances. As Ronald Levin observes, case law regarding the rule/guidance distinction is in a state of “general disarray.”88Ronald M. Levin, Rulemaking and the Guidance Exemption, 70 Admin. L. Rev. 263, 286 (2018). We will return in Section II.C to the questions of when and whether bypass via guidance may be a viable legal strategy. Importantly, though, guidance is not the only means of effectuating bypass: agencies also can seek to skirt the major questions doctrine by pursuing their policy goals through enforcement actions.89On the motivations for, costs, and benefits of policymaking via enforcement, see generally Chris Brummer, Yesha Yadav & David Zaring, Regulation by Enforcement, 96 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1297 (2024).

One arguable example of bypass via enforcement is the Securities and Exchange Commission’s ongoing effort to police the cryptocurrency industry. The Commission has argued in a series of enforcement actions that certain cryptocurrency offerings are “securities” subject to the registration requirements of the Securities Act of 1933. Some commentators have argued that the Commission’s assertion of jurisdiction over the cryptocurrency industry violates the major questions doctrine because “the cryptocurrency market has vast economic and political significance” and the Commission “has not clearly been empowered by Congress to regulate that market.”90Jerry W. Markham, Securities and Exchange Commission vs. Kim Kardashian, Cryptocurrencies and the “Major Questions Doctrine,” 14 Wm. & Mary Bus. L. Rev. 515, 522 (2023); accord Megan Daye & J.W. Verret, A Mosaic Approach for Challenging SEC Crypto Regulation: The Major Questions Doctrine and Staff Accounting Bulletin 121, 15 Wm. & Mary Bus. L. Rev. 553 (2024). The cryptocurrency exchange Coinbase road-tested this argument in federal district court in the Southern District of New York, where Judge Katherine Polk Failla swatted it away. “Simply put, the cryptocurrency industry cannot compare with those other industries the Supreme Court has found to trigger the major questions doctrine,” Judge Failla wrote.91SEC v. Coinbase, Inc., 726 F. Supp. 3d 260, 283 (S.D.N.Y. 2024). Stymied in the Southern District of New York, cryptocurrency firms have recently filed suits in the Northern and Western Districts of Texas to challenge the Commission’s interpretation of the term “security.”92See Matthew Bultman, Crypto Firms Take SEC Fight to Texas, With Eye on Supreme Court, Bloomberg Law (Apr. 5, 2024, 2:00 AM), https://www.bloomberglaw.com/bloomberglawnews/securities-law/X5C93SVC000000 [https://perma.cc/237Y-K3JN].

Whereas Judge Failla rejected Coinbase’s major questions argument on grounds specific to cryptocurrency and the structure of the securities laws, Todd Phillips and Beau Baumann have argued that the major questions doctrine should never apply to enforcement actions “when courts, not agencies, interpret statutes in the first instance.”93Todd Phillips & Beau J. Baumann, The Major Questions Doctrine’s Domain, 89 Brook. L. Rev. 747, 758 (2024). Phillips and Baumann acknowledge that a categorical exception from the major questions doctrine for agency enforcement actions in federal court would incentivize agencies to bypass the rulemaking process altogether—another instance of scholarship anticipating major questions avoidance, though the authors do not use that term.94Id. at 800. Nonetheless, they argue, an enforcement action is “less major” than a legislative rule “because it does not sweep in an entire industry,”95Id. and enforcement actions brought in federal court should lie outside the major questions doctrine’s “domain.”96See id. at 758–59.

If courts take up Phillips and Baumann’s suggestion, then bypass via enforcement is likely to become a frequent means of major questions avoidance, at least for agencies such as the Securities and Exchange Commission with authority to bring judicial enforcement actions on their own.97Phillips and Baumann focus on enforcement actions in court, rather than enforcement actions brought before administrative law judges in agency proceedings. The Supreme Court’s recent ruling in SEC v. Jarkesy, 144 S. Ct. 2117 (2024)—which held that the SEC’s claims for monetary relief in an agency adjudication implicated an investment adviser’s Seventh Amendment right to a jury trial—raises doubts about the viability of out-of-court enforcement as a bypass route. Id. at 2126–27. Even if courts do not carve out a categorical exception for enforcement actions, bypass via enforcement may become attractive to agencies seeking to reduce—though not eliminate—the risk of a major questions setback. But as we will see in the next part, the incentives for major questions avoidance—via bypass or via slicing, lumping, or glossing—sometimes can come into conflict with considerations of administrative efficiency, litigation strategy, and political advantage. Major questions avoidance will be an enticing option for agencies in some circumstances, but not in all.

II. The Benefits and Costs of Major Questions Avoidance

A. Benefits

On first glance, major questions avoidance may seem like it brings obvious benefits to an administration or agency seeking to advance a regulatory agenda, at least when a rule might otherwise run aground on the major question doctrine’s shoals. As a general matter, the stricter standard of scrutiny associated with the major questions doctrine—whether in the form of the elephants-in-the-mouseholes canon or the denial of Chevron deference or West Virginia v. EPA’s clear statement requirement—reduces a rule’s survival probability. As a result, major questions avoidance will typically bring a benefit—a lower chance of judicial reversal—that agency and administration officials must weigh against the costs of avoidance.

But before leaving the benefits side of the ledger, it is important to acknowledge that agency and administration officials may not always see major questions avoidance as a benefit. First, sometimes an agency may promulgate a rule not because officials at the agency or the White House think the rule is a good idea but because they are responding to political pressure from outside groups. For example, when the CDC announced a two-month extension to its eviction moratorium in August 2021, the Washington Post described the action as “a move that bent to intense pressure from liberal House Democrats.”98See Jeff Stein, Tyler Pager, Seung Min Kim & Tony Romm, Biden Administration Moves To Block Evictions in Most of U.S. Following Liberal Backlash, Wash. Post (Aug. 3, 2021, 8:25 PM), https://www.washingtonpost.com/us-policy/2021/08/03/white-house-evictions-democrats [https://web.archive.org/web/20210804050243/https://www.washingtonpost.com/us-policy/2021/08/03/white-house-evictions-democrats]. According to the Post, President Biden did not want to extend the moratorium—evidently because he believed that it overstepped the constitutional bounds on executive power—but “House Democrats responded angrily” to the administration’s position.99Id. One progressive Democrat, Representative Cori Bush of Missouri, staged what the New York Times described as “a round-the-clock sit-in on the steps of the United States Capitol that galvanized a full-on progressive revolt,” camping there for four days and nights “in rain, cold and brutal summer heat.”100See Nicholas Fandos, With Capitol Sit-In, Cori Bush Galvanized a Progressive Revolt Over Evictions, N.Y. Times (Aug. 4, 2021), https://www.nytimes.com/2021/08/04/us/politics/cori-bush-eviction-moratorium.html [https://perma.cc/9NFX-YSCB]. From the perspective of Biden administration officials, issuing the moratorium and then having it be struck down by the Supreme Court may have been exactly the outcome that they needed to get progressives off their backs.

Second, even when administration and agency officials support the policy behind a rule, they still may see a political benefit in having the rule be struck down by the courts—and especially by the Supreme Court. For example, in the case of student debt forgiveness, President Biden arguably stood to gain electorally from his clash with the Court’s conservatives. In a March 2024 poll, seventy percent of young voters, seventy-two percent of Black voters, and sixty-eight percent of Hispanic voters said that student debt cancellation was an “important” issue to them in the upcoming election.101See Annie Nova, Almost Half of Voters Say Student Loan Forgiveness Is a Key Issue in 2024 Election, Survey Finds, CNBC (Mar. 26, 2024, 9:30 AM), https://www.cnbc.com/2024/03/26/canceling-student-loan-debt-a-key-issue-ahead-of-election-survey.html [https://perma.cc/65BR-39NV]. White House officials might have anticipated that the student debt issue would give a boost to President Biden in his then-anticipated rematch with Donald Trump, whose three appointees to the Supreme Court supplied critical votes against the debt relief rule. (That electoral rematch—of course—never ultimately happened.)

Third and finally, a court decision invoking the major questions doctrine may be useful to an administration that seeks to entrench its policy position. For example, the Supreme Court’s major questions holding in King v. Burwell—in which the Court ruled that the availability of premium tax credits on federally established health insurance exchanges was a “question of deep ‘economic and political significance’ ” beyond the discretion of the Internal Revenue Service102King v. Burwell, 576 U.S. 473, 485–86 (2015) (citation omitted).—prevented the Trump administration from denying credits to exchange participants after the end of the Obama presidency. Notably, the version of the major questions doctrine that was applied in King v. Burwell simply denied Chevron deference to the Internal Revenue Service’s interpretation of the Affordable Care Act; the agency still could—and indeed did—persuade the Court that its interpretation of the statute was correct as a matter of first principles.103See id. at 485, 498. Still, the King v. Burwell episode illustrates the more general point that when agencies are thinking about threats to their regulatory policies, they are thinking about threats not only from the judiciary but also from the next administration.104On the benefits of judicial entrenchment as a guard against reversal by subsequent administrations, see Jonathan Masur, Judicial Deference and the Credibility of Agency Commitments, 60 Vand. L. Rev. 1021, 1037–60 (2007). For policy entrenchment reasons—as well as for the above-mentioned reasons related to interest group pressure and electoral opportunity—a judicial determination of majorness may not always be a net-negative for the current occupants of the executive branch.

B. Costs

Notwithstanding the caveats in the previous Section, high-ranking officials at agencies and across the administration generally will not want the courts to classify their regulatory initiatives as implicating the major questions doctrine. Still, they must weigh the benefits of major questions avoidance against the considerable costs. This Section focuses on three

especially significant costs of major questions avoidance: administrative burdens, litigation risks, and political costs.

  1. Administrative Burdens

Major questions avoidance—especially when it takes the form of slicing or lumping—is likely to increase the total burden on agency officials responsible for drafting and promulgating rules. As Jennifer Nou and Jed Stiglitz observe, agencies incur certain “fixed production costs” whenever they issue a new rule: they must establish a docket, write language that goes into every rule, complete internal paperwork, and—for non-independent agencies—secure sign-off from the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs within the White House.105See Jennifer Nou & Edward H. Stiglitz, Regulatory Bundling, 128 Yale L.J. 1174, 1202–03, 1206–08, 1206 n.138 (2019). Nou and Stiglitz note that “[t]he presence of fixed production costs generally encourages regulatory bundling”—in other words, encourages agencies to cover more ground in a single rule rather than splitting one rule into several.106See id. at 1202. Slicing—along with the related phenomenon of lumping (in which agencies issue a series of rules under different statutory authorities)—both cut against the incentive to minimize regulatory production costs.

The extent to which regulatory production costs deter avoidance will vary across agencies and across time. First, some agencies are much more adept at issuing rules than others. For example, according to data from Regulations.gov, the EPA issued 384 rules in 2023, while the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (“EEOC”) issued only three (one of which was a technical amendment to correct a typographical error in an earlier rule and one of which adjusted certain figures for inflation).107For data based on searches of Regulations.gov for rules posted from January 1, 2023, through December 31, 2023, see Documents, Regulations.gov, https://www.regulations.gov/search [https://perma.cc/S8W4-LWV5].   For an agency that churns out rules like they are cars coming off an assembly line, the costs of a few additional rulemakings may be manageable. For an agency like the EEOC that exercises its rulemaking muscles on rare occasions, the prospect of issuing several rules rather than a single rule may be more daunting.

Second, administrative burden of bypass via enforcement is likely to depend on whether an agency has independent litigation authority. Some agencies—such as the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau—have authority to initiate litigation in federal court on their own.108See Kirti Datla & Richard L. Revesz, Deconstructing Independent Agencies (and Executive Agencies), 98 Cornell L. Rev. 769, 800 tbl.5 (2013); see also 12 U.S.C. § 5564; 15 U.S.C. §§ 78aa, 78u, 78u-1, 78u-3, 78y. Others—such as the Department of Health and Human Services—must rely on the Justice Department to bring enforcement actions in federal court.109See Datla & Revesz, supra note 108, at 800 tbl.5. As Kirti Datla and Ricky Revesz note, “the Environmental Protection Agency has independent litigation authority over only a few discrete violations of the Toxic Substances Control Act.”110Id. at 799. Otherwise, the EPA’s ability to enforce the environmental laws in federal court depends on the cooperation of Justice Department attorneys.

Even when Justice Department attorneys are ideologically aligned with an agency’s policy agenda, bypass via enforcement is likely to be more burdensome for agencies without independent litigation authority. Every substantive filing in a case will require coordination—and potentially negotiation—between agency officials and Justice Department counterparts. As a result, we might hypothesize that agencies with independent litigation authority will be more likely to pursue bypass via enforcement than agencies without. Returning to the EPA/EEOC comparison, the EPA may be more likely to pursue slicing or lumping as an avoidance tactic because it is quite adept at issuing rules but lacks independent litigation authority; the EEOC may be more likely to pursue bypass via enforcement because it lacks the EPA’s well-practiced rulemaking infrastructure, but possesses independent litigation authority at the district court and circuit court level.111The EEOC lacks independent litigation authority before the Supreme Court. See 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-4(b). There, the Commission is represented by the Solicitor General. Id.

Finally, the administrative burden of avoidance is likely to be more salient near the end of a presidential term. This is because administrative burden results not only in a costlier regulatory process but also a slower process. The need for speed is greatest in an administration’s final days: executive branch turnover on January 20 of every fourth or eighth year means that regulatory projects not completed before that date are likely to die if the next administration does not support the effort, leading to the familiar phenomenon of “midnight rulemaking.”112See Anne Joseph O’Connell, Political Cycles of Rulemaking: An Empirical Portrait of the Modern Administrative State, 94 Va. L. Rev. 889, 892 (2008); see also id. at 957 (finding that “agencies complete more rulemaking actions in the final three months of a President’s administration than in any other year’s final quarter”). Even when the President hands the baton to a successor of the same party—something that has happened outside the context of resignation or death only once since World War II—rulemaking activity may accelerate at an administration’s end. According to one account, the Reagan administration rushed in its waning days to finalize regulations that were deemed “too hot to handle” during the 1988 presidential campaign, “hoping to minimize the divisive controversy George Bush might otherwise face” if those issues were resolved before the general election or after Bush’s inauguration.113Ronald A. Taylor, Ted Gest, Joseph P. Shapiro, Joanne Silberner, William J. Cook, William F. Allman & Joseph L. Galloway, Here Come Ronald Reagan’s ‘Midnight’ Regs, U.S. News & World Rep., Nov. 28, 1988, at 11. If time is of the essence—either because the next administration has different policy priorities or because the current administration wants to shield a politically aligned successor from blowback—then major questions avoidance via slicing, lumping, or bypassing will be less viable strategies.

Speed also matters at an earlier juncture in an administration’s final year because of the Congressional Review Act, which allows Congress to block a regulation from taking effect by enacting a joint resolution.1145 U.S.C. § 801. If a rule is finalized within the last sixty Senate “session” days or sixty House “legislative” days before Congress adjourns, the next Congress will have an opportunity to block the rule—and, importantly, the joint resolution will be immune from a Senate filibuster.115See Maeve P. Carey & Christopher M. Davis, Cong. Rsch. Serv., IF10023, The Congressional Review Act (CRA): A Brief Overview (2024), https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/IF/IF10023 [https://perma.cc/FB6C-YN8T]. Because a House “legislative day” can span multiple calendar days—and because both the House and Senate may adjourn earlier or later than expected—the deadline for finalizing a rule in order to avoid fast-track review by the next Congress is variable. In an election year, it may fall anywhere from the spring to the late summer.116See Kevin Bogardus, Murky Deadline Looms for Biden’s Regs, E&E News by Politico (Mar. 21, 2024, 1:21 PM), https://www.eenews.net/articles/murky-deadline-looms-for-bidens-regs [https://perma.cc/E8Z2-EU4Q].

Joint resolutions of disapproval under the Congressional Review Act are still subject to presidential veto, so absent a change in administration or an extremely unpopular rule that is opposed by a veto-proof supermajority of Congress, the Congressional Review Act does not pose a significant threat to agency action in most years. But in the last year of a presidential administration, agencies have strong incentives to finalize controversial rules early enough that the next Congress and the next President cannot use the Congressional Review Act to undo the agencies’ handiwork. Almost certainly for that reason, April 2024—which was thought to be the last month before Biden administration rules became subject to the fast-track disapproval procedure in the next Congress—was “the busiest month on record” for major regulations, with the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs reviewing more than eight times as many economically significant final rules as in the typical month.117See Susan E. Dudley, A Rush To Regulate, Forbes (May 7, 2024, 4:41 PM), https://www.forbes.com/sites/susandudley/2024/05/07/a-rush-to-regulate [https://perma.cc/EC33-RBZH]. In fact, the Senate Parliamentarian later determined that the Congressional Review Act cutoff date for Biden administration rules was August 16, 2024. See Maggi Lazarus & John “Jack” O’Rourke, Congressional Review Act: A Legislative Tool to Overturn Late-Term Regulations, Barnes & Thornburg LLP (Feb. 7, 2025), https://btlaw.com/en/insights/alerts/2025/congressional-review-act-a-legislative-tool-to-overturn-late-term-regulations [https://perma.cc/T84T-KAV3]. One might describe this phenomenon as “8 p.m. rulemaking”—rather than “midnight rulemaking”—because it occurs roughly five-sixths of the way through a President’s term (just as 8 p.m. strikes five-sixths of the way through the day). As the 8 o’clock hour approaches, the efficiency drawbacks of slicing and lumping increase because delay raises the risk of reversal under the Congressional Review Act. In that timeframe, agencies must weigh the benefits of major questions avoidance against the benefits of Congressional Review Act avoidance.

  1. Litigation Risks

So far, the analysis in this Part has proceeded under the guiding assumption that major questions avoidance raises the probability that a regulation will survive judicial review. That assumption is probably accurate most of the time—but not all of the time. In at least three scenarios, certain forms of major questions avoidance may increase an agency’s litigation risk.

First, when an agency slices a single rule into several smaller rules issued sequentially, it may expose itself to challenges asserting that the distinctions it has drawn (for example, among industries or among regions) are arbitrary and capricious. As the D.C. Circuit put it, “[t]he great principle that like cases must receive like treatment” is “black letter administrative law.”118Grayscale Invs., LLC v. SEC, 82 F.4th 1239, 1245 (D.C. Cir. 2023) (citation omitted). A regulatory scheme may fail in court both because it is “overinclusive” and “underinclusive.”119See Carlin Commc’ns, Inc. v. FCC, 749 F.2d 113, 121 (2d Cir. 1984). The merits of any underinclusivity challenge to a sliced rule will depend on the details, but it would be an overgeneralization to say that smaller rules always fare better in court than larger ones.

Second, to the extent that an agency engages in avoidance via glossing, it may open itself to attack under the State Farm doctrine, according to which a rule may be set aside as arbitrary and capricious if the agency “entirely failed to consider an important aspect of the problem.”120Motor Vehicle Mfrs. Ass’n of the U.S. v. State Farm Mut. Auto. Ins. Co., 463 U.S. 29, 43 (1983). As the D.C. Circuit has put it, administrative law’s “reasoned decision-making” standard “requir[es] the agency to focus on the values served by its decision.”121Greater Bos. Television Corp. v. FCC, 444 F.2d 841, 852 (D.C. Cir. 1970). Courts will—on occasion—strike down an agency rule because the agency explained itself in entirely technical or legalistic terms when its decision required a substantive value judgment.122For examples, see Hemel & Nielson, supra note 22, at 783–88. To be sure, courts typically grade agency explanations on a generous curve: an agency usually won’t have to say all that much to satisfy State Farm.123See, e.g., Madison Gas & Elec. Co. v EPA, 25 F.3d 526, 529 (7th Cir. 1994) (describing the State Farm standard as “undemanding”). For an arguable counterexample, in which a majority of the Supreme Court appeared to demand much more from an agency in the notice-and-comment process, see Ohio v. EPA, 144 S. Ct. 2040 (2024). See also id. at 2067–68 (Barrett, J., dissenting) (arguing that the majority ventured far beyond the typical scope of State Farm review). But an agency that engages in hyperaggressive glossing—denying or significantly downplaying the economic, political, or ethical stakes of its decision—may leave itself vulnerable on the State Farm flank even as it seeks to shield itself from the major questions doctrine.

Finally, when an agency pursues bypass via guidance document, it may reduce the risk that its pronouncement will be deemed a final agency action subject to judicial review but raise the risk that the guidance document will be deemed a “legislative rule” in disguise that ought to have gone through a notice-and-comment process. Many more regulatory initiatives have failed on notice-and-comment grounds than on major questions grounds: as Ronald Levin observes, “the question of whether a supposedly informal pronouncement of an administrative agency is actually a rule that should have been adopted through notice-and-comment procedure may well be the single most frequently litigated and important issue of rulemaking procedure before the federal courts today.”124See Levin, supra note 88, at 265. Note that the notice-and-comment concern does not apply to avoidance via slicing and lumping provided that the sliced or lumped-together rules each go through notice and comment. But, returning to the regulatory-production-costs point above, the rigamarole of multiple notice-and-comment procedures—necessary to insulate sliced and lumped-together rules against litigation risk—further raises the administrative burden of avoidance.

  1. Political Costs

Along with its administrative burdens and litigation risks, major questions avoidance potentially comes with significant political drawbacks. Presidents want credit from voters for their regulatory achievements. Agency heads with ambitions for higher office want the world to notice their accomplishments. These outcomes are more likely when agency actions generate media attention, and the media is much more likely to cover rules that are larger in scope. Thus, even when the major questions doctrine discourages agencies from issuing broad rules, political incentives may push in the opposite direction.

 The political costs of major questions avoidance will vary across time, across agency, and across subject matter. Electoral incentives are likely to be most salient in the last year of an administration—roughly around the same time that the costs of regulatory delay reach their peak. Meanwhile, career incentives do not affect all agency heads equally. Although it is often said that “every senator looks in the mirror and sees a future president,”125Thomas Daschle & Charles Robbins, The U.S. Senate: Fundamentals of American Government 48 (2013). the CDC Director may look in the mirror and see no one other than the CDC Director. For some agency heads without further political ambitions, staying out of the spotlight may be an added benefit of major questions avoidance. Moreover, in some cases, an administration may—for electoral reasons—want to minimize attention to a controversial rule. For example, Biden administration officials may have been happy to regulate coal through a series of smaller rules because coal regulation—though popular among environmentalists—carries electoral risks in the swing state of Pennsylvania, the third largest coal-producing state in the country.126Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs): Which States Produce the Most Coal?, U.S. Energy Info. Admin. (Oct. 20, 2023), https://www.eia.gov/tools/faqs/faq.php?id=69 [https://perma.cc/HZT5-WVDQ]. In those instances, major questions avoidance and electoral politics may work hand in hand.

Finally, agencies and administration officials may be able to capture both the benefits of major questions avoidance and the political benefits of larger regulatory initiatives by emphasizing the combined effect of several smaller rules. President Biden’s “anti-glossing” approach to student debt forgiveness is arguably a case in point: by touting the combined effect of several different student loan relief initiatives, President Biden successfully vaulted his series of smaller debt cancellations onto the front page of the New York Times and into the national spotlight.127See Michael D. Shear, Biden Announces Student Debt Relief for Millions in Swing-State Pitch, N.Y. Times. (Apr. 8, 2024) https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/08/us/politics/biden-student-loans-debt-relief.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250601034621/https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/08/us/politics/biden-student-loans-debt-relief.html]. Still, a drawback of major questions avoidance is that even when the combined effects of multiple rules, guidance documents, administrative adjudications, or enforcement actions are far-reaching, the consequences will typically be more difficult to explain to the average voter than a single sweeping rule. Thus, the political cost of major questions avoidance may be not only that avoidance leads to less attention but also that it engenders lower comprehension.

Ultimately, whether the political costs of major questions avoidance outweigh the benefits depends on a question much larger than the major questions doctrine itself: what motivates regulators? Perhaps counterintuitively, major questions avoidance may be more likely if the “public interest” theory of regulation applies: if regulators are “benevolent . . . , trustworthy, disinterested, and public-spirited experts who produce rules that ensure general economic efficiency and maximum welfare for society.”128Walter Mattli & Ngaire Woods, In Whose Benefit? Explaining Regulatory Change in Global Politics, in The Politics of Global Regulation 1, 9 (Walter Mattli & Ngaire Woods eds., 2009). If agency and administration officials respond more strongly to personal or partisan motives, then the political costs of major questions avoidance may outweigh the benefits from those officials’ self-interested perspective. To be sure, this conclusion comes with caveats. Regulators motivated by private interests may embrace avoidance if—for example—they are responsive to inducements from sophisticated interest groups that will appreciate the combined effects of several sliced or lumped rules. And public-interested regulators may eschew avoidance if they conclude—perhaps after weighing the considerations laid out in the next part—that major questions avoidance has a corrosive effect on the legitimacy of the administrative state.

III.  Major Questions Avoidance and the Legitimacy of the Administrative State

So far our analysis has been primarily positive and predictive: how—and how often—will agencies modify their regulatory strategies to avoid the major questions doctrine? This Part shifts into a normative gear, asking what the phenomenon of major questions avoidance means for the legitimacy of the modern administrative state. Following Richard Fallon’s tripartite classification of legitimacy claims into sociological, legal, and moral categories, I use the term “legitimacy” here in the moral sense: “legitimacy inheres in the moral justification, if any, for claims of authority asserted in the name of the law.”129Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Legitimacy and the Constitution, 118 Harv. L. Rev. 1787, 1790–91 (2005). As we shall see, different theories of administrative state legitimacy lead to different implications for major questions avoidance. This Part focuses on four prominent theories, which vary based on the source to which they ascribe the administrative state’s legitimacy: (1) presidential legitimacy, (2) legislative legitimacy, (3) expert legitimacy, and (4) participatory legitimacy.

A. Presidential Legitimacy

Probably the most prominent normative theory of the administrative state in American legal thought today locates the source of agency legitimacy in the presidency.130See Brian D. Feinstein, Presidential Administration and the Accountability Illusion, 74 Duke L.J. 1791, 1796–1800 (2025) (documenting the phenomenon of “presidential preeminence” in legal scholarship and jurisprudence). The leading exponent of the presidential legitimacy theory in the legal academy—before she became Solicitor General and then Associate Justice of the Supreme Court—was Professor and Dean Elena Kagan.131See Adrian Vermeule, Bureaucracy and Distrust: Landis, Jaffe, and Kagan on the Administrative State, 130 Harv. L. Rev. 2463, 2478 (2017). As then-Professor Kagan observed in an enormously influential 2001 Harvard Law Review article, “Presidents . . . are the only governmental officials elected by a national constituency in votes focused on general, rather than local, policy issues.”132Elena Kagan, Presidential Administration, 114 Harv. L. Rev. 2245, 2334 (2001). Paraphrasing the earlier work of administrative law scholar Jerry Mashaw, Kagan wrote that bureaucratic action thus “turns out to have a democratic pedigree purer even than Congress’s in our system of government.”133Id. (citing Jerry L. Mashaw, Prodelegation: Why Administrators Should Make Political Decisions, 1 J.L. Econ. & Org. 81, 95 (1985)).

Kagan’s arguments regarding the democratic bona fides of presidential administration are both backward-looking and forward-looking. From a backward-looking perspective, “a President has won a national election,” and “this election, exactly because it was national in scope, probably focused on broad policy questions, conveying at least some information to the public about the future President’s attitude toward regulation.”134Id. at 2334. But in Kagan’s view, the “more important point is prospective.” As she puts it:

[B]ecause the President has a national constituency, he is likely to consider, in setting the direction of administrative policy on an ongoing basis, the preferences of the general public, rather than merely parochial interests. . . . In his first term, the desire for reelection alone provides a reason to do so, including through the adoption of policies favored by a majority of the voting public. And even in his second term, a President retains strong incentives to consider carefully the public’s views as to all manner of issues—incentives here related to his ambition for achievement, and beyond that for a chosen successor or historical legacy.135Id. at 2335.

This theory of “presidential legitimacy”—whereby the exercise of executive power derives its democratic justification from the relationship between the President and “the People”—also bears implications for the relationship between the President and the agencies. According to Kagan’s theory of presidential legitimacy, “enhanced presidential control of administration serves democratic norms.”136Id. at 2339. This conclusion counsels for a more robust presidential role in regulatory decision-making.137See id. at 2377. It also favors a forthright acknowledgement that agency decisions emanate from the President. In Kagan’s words, “[t]o the extent that presidential supervision of agencies remains hidden from public scrutiny, the President will have greater freedom to play to parochial interests.”138Id. at 2337. By contrast, “[i]t is when presidential control of administrative action is most visible that it most will reflect presidential reliance on and responsiveness to broad public sentiment.”139Id.

From a presidential legitimacy perspective, the major questions doctrine seems 180-degrees backwards. Agency decisions of vast economic and political significance are the most likely to involve—and to be perceived by the public as emanating from—the President. Yet as Jodi Short and Jed Shugerman observe, the Court’s decisions in its major questions cases all focus on the role of “unaccountable bureaucrats”—a phenomenon that the authors describe as “presidential erasure.”140Jodi L. Short & Jed H. Shugerman, Major Questions about Presidentialism: Untangling the “Chain of Dependence” Across Administrative Law, 65 B.C. L. Rev. 511, 515, 575 (2024). As Short and Shugerman write, the President “actively supported” and “took public responsibility for” each of the policies at issue in the Court’s major questions cases, and each of these policies provoked “vigorous” national debates.141Id. at 514. Nonetheless, “despite the special national democratic character of presidential involvement in policies that have been struck down in MQD cases, the President is virtually invisible in these opinions.”142Id. Justice Kagan’s dissent in Biden v. Nebraska marks a notable exception. In that case, Justice Kagan emphasized that “the President would have been accountable for [the] success or failure” of the Department of Education’s student loan forgiveness plan, and the agency officials who formally promulgated the program “serve a President with the broadest of all political constituencies.” Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. 2355, 2385, 2397 (2023) (Kagan, J., dissenting).

Indeed, from a presidential legitimacy perspective, it is arguably “minor questions,” not major ones, that ought to trigger the most stringent judicial scrutiny.143For a related suggestion, see Aaron L. Nielson, The Minor Questions Doctrine, 169 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1181, 1218–19 (2021). Regulations that address minor questions are the least likely to reach the President’s desk, least likely to generate media coverage, and least likely to swing votes in a general election. Those rules are probably the most likely to advance the private objectives of special interest groups rather than the greater good of the public at large. Yet under current doctrine, regulations that address minor questions escape the searching judicial review that applies to high-profile rules that already have been approved by the President and are likely to be vetted by voters.

Given that the major questions doctrine makes little sense from a presidential legitimacy perspective, one might think that adherents to the presidential legitimacy theory would embrace major questions avoidance. As Daniel Farber, Jonathan Gould, and Matthew Stephenson argue, “if a legal rule produces undesirable effects, a workaround will generally be a welcome corrective.”144See Farber et al., supra note 12, at 512. Major questions avoidance offers a possible exception to this general rule. Sliced rules under the same statutory authority, smaller rules under different statutory authorities, guidance documents, administrative adjudications, and enforcement actions all come with the democratic disadvantages of “minor questions”: they are less likely to reach the presidential level and less likely to garner media and voter attention. As Freeman and Stephenson write, “[i]f agencies downplay the real reasons for their rules, segment actions to make them seem more innocuous, or try to portray significant policy changes as technocratic, it becomes more difficult for the public to know what the executive branch is doing (and why), and therefore harder to hold the President to account for it.”145Freeman & Stephenson, supra note 27, at 34. Thus, while the major questions doctrine is undesirable from a presidential legitimacy perspective, major questions avoidance is also undesirable from a presidential legitimacy perspective. Indeed, major questions avoidance may be particularly pernicious because—in Freeman and Stephenson’s telling—it redounds to the advantage of “[s]ophisticated, well-organized interest groups,” who are “more likely than ordinary citizens to understand how a collection of seemingly technocratic, incremental regulations contribute to some larger policy agenda.”146Id. at 35. For presidential legitimacy theorists who value presidential administration precisely because it makes agencies accountable to a national electorate, major questions avoidance may be a cure even worse than the disease.

B. Legislative Legitimacy

Whereas the presidential legitimacy account locates the justification for administrative power in the executive (in other words, Article II), the legislative legitimacy account shifts focus to Article I: Congress. Members of the House and—for the last century147U.S. Const. amend. XVII.—the Senate are the only national officials who are elected directly by the people. Ordinary citizens face a much higher chance of having their concerns heard by their Congressmember or home-state Senators than by the President. And, of course, the Constitution assigns all lawmaking powers to Congress148U.S. Const. art. I, § 1.—a fact that matters more to formalists than to functionalists but still may matter to functionalists who see some value in achieving “fit” between the constitutional framework and the practical reality of the modern administrative state.

The major questions doctrine fares better from a legislative legitimacy perspective than from a presidential legitimacy perspective. Given the scope and complexity of a modern state, it would be impossible for the legislature to weigh in on every policy choice, but policy choices of vast economic and political significance should be made by officials who are accountable to voters through direct elections—or so the argument goes. Risk-averse lawmakers who are concerned about their own reelection may be tempted to pass the buck for controversial decisions to administrative agencies,149See R. Kent Weaver, The Politics of Blame Avoidance, 6 J. Pub. Pol’y 371, 371 (1986). but the major questions doctrine prevents legislators from sloughing off responsibility for those choices. Seen in this light, the major questions doctrine reflects the not-altogether-unreasonable proposition that Congressmembers must not be allowed to escape responsibility for important and controversial questions of climate change, public health, student debt, and so on—or if Congressmembers do pass the buck, they should have to fess up to it.

But while the legislative legitimacy theory leads to greater sympathy toward the major questions doctrine, it also—like the presidential legitimacy theory—engenders antipathy toward major questions avoidance. Sliced rules, lumped-together rules, guidance documents, administrative adjudications, and enforcement actions are not only more likely to escape presidential attention but also more likely to evade legislative oversight. Congressional committee hearings are an important mechanism through which the legislature regulates the administrative state: when members of the House and Senate have questions about an agency’s policies or performance, they can summon agency officials to appear before committees and—if dissatisfied with the officials’ responses—can restrict or condition funding, hold up appointments, or potentially amend the relevant statutes.150On Congress’s practical power to influence agencies through oversight, see generally Brian D. Feinstein, Congress in the Administrative State, 95 Wash. U. L. Rev. 1189 (2018). But these accountability mechanisms are less likely to operate when incremental regulatory actions fly below Congress’s radar.

From a legislative legitimacy perspective, then, the relationship between the major questions doctrine and major questions avoidance conforms to the general relationship between first-order rules and workarounds identified by Farber et al.: when the first-order rule (here, the major questions doctrine) “tends to produce desirable effects,” then “a workaround will generally be undesirable.”151See Farber et al., supra note 12, at 512. In this case, though, the undesirability of the workaround also calls into question the wisdom of the first-order rule. Insofar as the major questions doctrine results in agencies effectuating their policies through incremental regulations, guidance documents, administrative adjudications, and enforcement actions that escape legislative oversight, the upshot may be that the House and Senate will exert even less influence over the questions of vast economic and political significance that—according to legislative legitimacy theorists—ought to remain within the province of Congress. Thus, for legislative legitimacy theorists who are sympathetic to the major questions doctrine ab initio, the possibility of major questions avoidance should lead to reconsideration—and perhaps revision—of that initial view.

C. Expert Legitimacy

A third normative theory of the administrative state—which emerges most clearly in the academic writing of former Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer152See Vermeule, supra note 131, at 2467–68 (distinguishing Breyer’s “technocratic approach” from its antecedents).—focuses on the role of expertise as a legitimating force. In Breyer’s view, neither the public nor Congress is well-suited to understand and respond to health and safety risks.153See Stephen Breyer, Breaking the Vicious Circle: Toward Effective Risk Regulation 10, 33–42 (1993). For Breyer, the only hope for effective risk regulation lies with an expert bureaucracy. As he put it in Breaking the Vicious Circle, his last book on administrative law before joining the Supreme Court:

A bureaucracy’s rationalizing tendencies match the need for consistency through system-building and prioritizing; a bureaucracy’s use of expertise matches the need for technically related regulatory improvement; a bureaucracy’s insulation matches the need for protection from the vicissitudes of public opinion based on a single substance or on a single issue; and a successful bureaucracy can begin to build public confidence in its systems, thereby making its results more authoritative.154Id. at 67–68.

According to this view, the justification for the administrative state’s claim to authority rests not only in the technical qualifications of individual bureaucrats but also in the institutional structure through which bureaucratic expertise is developed and deployed.

Some version of the major questions doctrine might be justifiable under an expert legitimacy account. Indeed, the doctrine’s name traces back to a line in a 1986 law review article by then-First Circuit Judge Breyer: “Congress is more likely to have focused upon, and answered, major questions, while leaving interstitial matters to answer themselves in the course of the statute’s daily administration.”155Stephen Breyer, Judicial Review of Questions of Law and Policy, 38 Admin. L. Rev. 363, 370 (1986). Judge Breyer made this point in the context of Chevron and congressional intent: a statutory ambiguity is less likely to reflect an implicit delegation to an agency when the relevant issue is major.156See id. 368–71. But the major questions doctrine arguably also fits within Breyer’s larger theory of expert legitimacy. If an issue is non-technical—if it implicates substantive value judgments with respect to which expert agencies enjoy no particular advantage—then the case for shifting authority from Congress to the bureaucracy is relatively weak. The major questions doctrine potentially serves to sort between the issues on which Congress can be trusted to channel public values and the issues that require depoliticized bureaucratic management.

An expert legitimacy version of the major questions doctrine might differ from the version adopted by the current Court. Rather than emphasizing the economic or political significance of an issue, the expert legitimacy version might focus on whether the relevant regulation implicates the agency’s experience and expertise. Framed this way, some of the Court’s major questions decisions might be better understood as what Jody Freeman has called “wrong agency” cases: cases in which the Court denies deference to an agency because the regulation at issue lies within a different agency’s bailiwick.157See Matthew Oakes, Donald Verrilli, Richard Pierce & Jody Freeman, The Future of Administrative Law, 47 Envtl. L. Rep. 10186, 10196 (2017) (transcript of panel discussion); see also, e.g., Gonzales v. Oregon, 546 U.S. 243, 265–69 (2006) (denying Chevron deference to a Justice Department interpretative rule regarding assisted suicide because the rule relied on a “medical judgment” that lay beyond the Attorney General’s “expertise”). Moreover, adherents to the expert legitimacy account might conclude that some of the Court’s major questions cases were wrongly decided on the facts.158See, e.g., Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus. v. Dep’t of Lab., 142 S. Ct. 661, 676–77 (2022) (Breyer, Sotomayor & Kagan, JJ., dissenting) (disputing majority’s assertion that the Occupational Safety and Health Administration lacked public-health expertise relevant to workplace vaccine mandate). But the major questions doctrine is not as anathema

from an expert legitimacy perspective as it might be from a presidential legitimacy perspective.

What about major questions avoidance? The possibility that agencies might split their rules into smaller pieces that fly below the radar of the President and Congress is less disturbing from an expert legitimacy perspective than from a presidential or legislative legitimacy perspective. As Jody Freeman and Adrian Vermeule observe, the Court’s decision in Massachusetts v. EPA,159Massachusetts v. EPA, 549 U.S. 497 (2007). arguably the jurisprudential apogee of expert legitimacy theory, is motivated by a concern about White House meddling in agency scientific judgments.160See Jody Freeman & Adrian Vermeule, Massachusetts v. EPA: From Politics to Expertise, 2007 Sup. Ct. Rev. 51, 52 (2007). For expert legitimacy theorists, keeping certain regulatory issues off the President’s desk is a desirable feature, not a bug, of major questions avoidance. So, too, with respect to Congress: “Congress is highly responsive to public opinion, as it ought to be,” Breyer wrote in Breaking the Vicious Circle.161Breyer, supra note 153, at 42. “This means, however, that if the public finds it difficult to order risk priorities, Congress is also likely to find it difficult.”162Id. At least for risk regulation decisions such as the choices related to cigarettes, climate change, and COVID-19 transmission at issue in some of the Court’s major questions cases, major questions avoidance—insofar as it also leads to avoidance of presidential and congressional oversight—is not an entirely unwelcome outcome.

From an expert legitimacy perspective, major questions avoidance may bring ancillary benefits beyond simply keeping certain issues away from the President and Congress. When an agency slices a broad rule R into a series of smaller rules Ra, Rb, Rc, and so on for industries A, B, C, and so forth, the agency may be more likely to leverage industry-specific expertise—from its own ranks or from the ranks of other agencies—in crafting each of the smaller rules. Drafting a regulation for a single industry focuses the bureaucratic apparatus on the particular characteristics of that industry—characteristics that might be ignored in an omnibus rulemaking. Moreover, if the agency proceeds sequentially—for example, promulgating rule Ra for industry A before it applies rule Rb to industry B—then the agency may gain on-the-ground knowledge from its experience with industry A that allows it to design a better rule for industry B. And by the time the agency reaches industry Z, cumulative knowledge from earlier efforts may allow the agency to craft a significantly superior regulatory regime.

This conclusion comes with qualifications. First, the types of rules to which an expert legitimacy theorist may wish to apply the major questions doctrine—nontechnical rules of vast economic and political significance—are not the same rules that they may wish to see sliced into a series of sub-rules. From an expert legitimacy perspective, major questions avoidance is most beneficial with respect to technical regulations that are likely to escape the major questions doctrine in the first place. And second, the benefits of slicing from an expert legitimacy perspective do not necessarily carry over to other forms of avoidance. For example, expert legitimacy theorists might not welcome bypass via enforcement if enforcement shifts influence toward generalist litigators in the agency’s enforcement division or at the Justice Department. In those instances, major questions avoidance—rather than empowering subject-matter experts within an agency—may relegate them to the regulatory sidelines.

D. Participatory Legitimacy

A fourth normative theory of the administrative state locates the legitimacy of agency authority in public participation. This theory of participatory legitimacy draws inspiration from the work of John Dewey, a prominent figure in early twentieth century pragmatist and progressive thought. In Dewey’s words:

No government by experts in which the masses do not have the chance to inform the experts as to their needs can be anything but an oligarchy managed in the interests of the few. And the enlightenment must proceed in ways which force the administrative specialists to take account of the needs.163John Dewey, The Public and Its Problems: An Essay in Political Inquiry 173 (Melvin L. Rogers ed., Ohio Univ. Press 2016) (1927).

Blake Emerson, the leading exponent of participatory legitimacy theory in the American legal academy today, has identified elements of Dewey’s vision across the modern administrative state. According to Emerson, the notice-and-comment process “institutionalizes the Progressive concern for public participation in agency policymaking.”164Emerson, supra note 71, at 2081. As Emerson continues, “Courts then police this process to ensure that agencies draw reasonable conclusions from the comments they receive, address all significant comments, and ensure that all major policy choices are sufficiently ventilated.”165Id. at 2081–82 (internal quotation marks omitted). The result is democratic legitimation of a different sort from what is contemplated by Kagan’s presidentialist account—a form of democratic legitimation that depends less on votes than on voice.

For Emerson, both the major questions doctrine and major questions avoidance are normatively problematic. “The problem with the [major questions] doctrine,” Emerson writes, is “that it discounts and short-circuits rational public deliberation between administrative officials and the public at large.”166Id. at 2083. The problem with major questions avoidance is even more acute. In particular, Emerson anticipates that the doctrine will lead agencies to gloss—to explain their decisions on questions of vast economic and political significance in highly technical terms. “This retreat into technocracy will further imperil democratic transparency,” according to Emerson, “because important value choices will be kept from public view, and dressed up in the supposedly neutral language of expertise.”167Id. at 2085–86.

Participatory legitimacy theory—though it takes a dim view of glossing—may reach different normative conclusions regarding other avoidance strategies. Arguably, participatory legitimacy theorists should welcome slicing. From a participatory legitimacy perspective, smaller rules may be preferable to larger rules. While individuals have the formal opportunity to participate in the notice-and-comment process for all rules regardless of scope, any single individual’s voice is more likely to be heard in a smaller rulemaking than a larger rulemaking, since in the latter case, hundreds of thousands of other individual and organizational commenters are likely to drown out a lone voice. This participatory legitimacy argument for smaller rules runs parallel to the classic argument in the federalism literature for smaller jurisdictions: that “thicker forms of participation” such as contacting officials and attending civic meetings increase as jurisdictional size decreases.168For a review, see Roderick M. Hills, Jr., Federalism and Public Choice, in Research Handbook on Public Choice and Public Law 207, 216–17 (Daniel A. Farber & Anne Joseph O’Connell eds., 2010). For canonical contributions, see Robert A. Dahl & Edward R. Tufte, Size and Democracy (1973); and J. Eric Oliver, Democracy in Suburbia (2001). On this account, the problem with major rules—like the problem with national governments—is that their scope is too broad, whether in subject-matter or geographic terms, to facilitate efficacious individual participation in their design.

Not all participatory legitimacy theorists are likely to be convinced by this argument, and this argument does not apply to all other forms of major questions avoidance. A possible participatory benefit of larger rules is that they are more likely to generate media coverage and debate, facilitating the “value-oriented process of public engagement” that, per Emerson, is key to participatory legitimation.169See Emerson, supra note 71, at 2097. The benefit of greater opportunities for individual voice in the small-rule context must be weighed against the benefit of greater public attention for larger rules. Moreover, the tentative argument for slicing on participatory legitimacy grounds does not apply to bypass: guidance documents—if they do not go through notice-and-comment—as well as administrative adjudications and enforcement actions deprive the public of the participatory opportunities that notice-and-comment rulemaking allows. So, participatory legitimacy theory’s verdict on both the major questions doctrine and major questions avoidance appears to be mixed: a doctrine that incentivizes agencies to slice their larger rules into smaller pieces may yield some participatory benefits, but other responses to the major questions doctrine generate participatory costs. The justification for the first-order rule may thus depend on which workaround predominates.

***

Summing up so far: We have sought in this Part to answer a relatively narrow normative question: is major questions avoidance desirable? Attempting to answer that narrow question requires a broader normative theory of administrative state legitimacy. Different normative theories of administrative state legitimacy bear very different implications both for the major questions doctrine and for major questions avoidance. Moreover, thinking through the phenomenon of major questions avoidance from multiple normative perspectives yields fresh insights regarding the relationship between first-order rules and workarounds in public law.

The next (and final) Part shifts focus from the administrative state to the judicial branch: how should courts respond to major questions avoidance? For presidential legitimacy theorists, the answer is easy: the major questions doctrine should be eliminated, in which case we would not need to worry about major questions avoidance. Meanwhile, expert legitimacy theorists and participatory legitimacy theorists may not necessarily see major questions avoidance as a problem to be solved—at least when avoidance takes the form of slicing (and in a similar vein, lumping). But for legislative legitimacy theorists, major questions avoidance poses a genuine dilemma: avoidance has the potential to undermine the benefits that legislative legitimacy theorists ascribe to the major questions doctrine. Indeed, the major questions doctrine—to the extent that it incentivizes avoidance—may be counterproductive to legislative legitimacy theory’s larger goals. Yet, as we will see in the next part, crafting an effective judicial response to major questions avoidance will prove to be a Herculean—and perhaps Sisyphean—challenge.

IV. Major Questions Anti-Avoidance

Anti-avoidance rules abound in American law. For example, the Bank Secrecy Act’s anti-avoidance rule prohibits individuals from splitting larger cash transactions into smaller ones to evade the Act’s $10,000 reporting threshold—a practice colloquially known as “smurfing.”17031 U.S.C. § 5324; see United States v. Beaumont, 972 F.2d 91, 94 n.9 (5th Cir. 1992). Anti-avoidance rules in bankruptcy law such as the fraudulent conveyance and fraudulent transfer provisions prevent debtors from evading creditors’ efforts to enforce valid claims.17111 U.S.C. § 548. These provisions are sometimes described as “avoiding powers”—as they allow the debtor in possession or trustee to “avoid” certain transactions—though they also can be described as “anti-avoidance” doctrines insofar as they combat attempts by a pre-petition debtor to avoid collection. See Thomas H. Jackson, Avoiding Powers in Bankruptcy, 36 Stan. L. Rev. 725, 726 (1984). Tax law—in particular—is replete with anti-avoidance rules, including the economic substance doctrine,172I.R.C. § 7701(o). the substance-over-form doctrine,173See Frank Lyon Co. v. United States, 435 U.S. 561, 572–73 (1978). and the step transaction doctrine.174See Comm’r v. Clark, 489 U.S. 726, 738 (1989).

 Courts typically apply anti-avoidance rules ex post—after all, the relevant avoidance actions have occurred. For example, under the step transaction doctrine, a court or the IRS will look retrospectively and wholistically at a series of completed steps and assess the federal tax consequences based “on a realistic view of the entire transaction.”175See id. Theoretically, a major questions anti-avoidance rule could be applied ex post or ex ante. In the ex post version, the court would consider whether sequential regulatory actions, taken together, resolve a question of vast economic and political significance. In the ex ante version, the court would seek to intervene at the beginning of the sequence. As we shall see, both the ex ante and ex post versions lie within the bounds of imagination, but courts that seek to instantiate either strategy in the real world will encounter formidable challenges.

A. Ex Ante Anti-Avoidance

Ex ante anti-avoidance is easiest to conceptualize in the context of slicing. Imagine that an agency applies rule Ra to industry A and that the single-industry rule would not itself trigger the major questions doctrine. Now imagine that the same statutory theory that justifies the application of rule Ra to industry A also would authorize the application of Rb to industry B, Rc to industry C, and so on, all the way to industry Z, and that rules Ra through Rz would have a combined effect of vast economic or political significance. An ex ante version of major questions anti-avoidance would allow a regulated party in industry A to challenge rule Ra on major questions grounds, even though the sequence of rules might not cross the majorness threshold until much later down the line.

An ex ante version of major questions anti-avoidance would encounter serious difficulties in practice. First, the ex ante version would require courts to anticipate all—or at least many—of the possible regulations that follow logically from the statutory interpretation that justifies Ra. Only then could courts begin to evaluate whether these regulations, considered cumulatively, rise to the level of majorness. Many commentators have observed that this latter step—the determination of majorness—is itself an unmanageable inquiry.176See Capozzi, supra note 28, at 227 & n.281 (compiling fifteen citations to this effect). As Ronald Levin writes, “criticisms of this sort should be taken with a grain of salt” because “[m]any administrative law doctrines implicate judgment calls,” but “[i]n this instance,” the manageability critique “is well founded.”177Ronald M. Levin, The Major Questions Doctrine: Unfounded, Unbounded, and Confounded, 122 Calif. L. Rev. 899, 966 (2024). An ex ante major questions avoidance doctrine would be doubly difficult from a judicial manageability perspective—perhaps much more than doubly, because the first step (conjuring up regulations that do not yet exist) places a much heavier tax on the judicial imagination than determining whether an already-existing regulation implicates a major question. The difficulty is especially daunting when avoidance takes the form of lumping rather than splitting: judges will have to imagine not only the possible applications of a single statute but also possible similar uses of other statutes that the agency has not yet invoked.

To be sure, a court that is dead set on advancing a deregulatory agenda may be tempted to test out an ex ante anti-avoidance doctrine anyway. But judges—even deeply ideological judges—still usually assign some weight to other values, such as predictability and judicial economy. Even for judges with strong conservative or libertarian leanings, an unpredictable and unmanageable ex ante avoidance doctrine may prove to be a game not worth the candle.

Along with judges, regulated parties may shy away from an ex ante version of major questions anti-avoidance. Consider the dilemma facing a regulated party challenging the application of rule Ra to industry A. To prevail on an ex ante anti-avoidance theory, the challenger would have to make two showings: (1) that the same statutory interpretation that justifies the application of rule Ra to industry A also would justify the application of Rb to industry B, Rc to industry C, all the way through Rz for industry Z; and (2) that rules Ra through Rz rise to the level of majorness when assessed in the aggregate. If the challenger wins at the first step but not the second—if the court (1) agrees with the challenger that the agency’s authority to apply rule Ra to industry A also implies its power to promulgate similar rules for B through Z but (2) disagrees with the challenger’s claim that the resulting regulatory bundle would reach the majorness threshold—then the challenger will have blazed a path for much more extensive regulation in the future. And given how amorphous the majorness standard is,178See Natasha Brunstein & Richard L. Revesz, Mangling the Major Questions Doctrine, 74 Admin. L. Rev. 317, 318 (2022) (“What constitutes a major question is as unclear today as it was when Justice Breyer wrote those words in 1986.”); Daniel T. Deacon & Leah M. Litman, The New Major Questions Doctrine, 109 Va. L. Rev. 1009, 1014 & n.23 (2023) (compiling sources that characterize the doctrine as “radically indeterminate”). litigants can rarely be confident at the outset of the first step that they will prevail if they reach step two.

Granted, a firm in industry A may not care about throwing its counterparts in industries B through Z under the bus. The calculus could change, though, if the firm is a multi-sector conglomerate with subsidiaries not only in industry A but also sprinkled across the rest of the alphabet. Likewise, a firm may be reluctant to press an ex ante avoidance argument if A, B, C, and so forth—instead of representing different industries—represent different products made by the same factory, different pollutants emitted by the same facility, or different trade practices of the same company. In those cases, winning a half-victory in an ex ante anti-avoidance case amounts to scoring on one’s own goal.

None of this is to say that litigants will never raise ex ante anti-avoidance arguments or that these arguments will never succeed. At least debatably, Utility Air Regulatory Group v. EPA presents a real-world example of ex ante anti-avoidance. In that case, the EPA argued that the Clean Air Act authorized it to regulate carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gas emissions from stationary sources that release 100,000 tons or more of carbon dioxide equivalent units each year.179Util. Air Regul. Grp. v. EPA, 573 U.S. 302, 313 (2014). The Supreme Court, in a majority opinion by Justice Scalia, observed that the same statutory theory would allow—indeed, would require—the EPA to regulate emissions from units that release just 100 to 250 tons of carbon dioxide equivalent units each year, which would sweep in “millions[] of small sources nationwide.”180Id. at 324. The Court held that the more expansive rule would trigger the major questions doctrine even though the EPA had not yet (and probably never would) assert such far-reaching authority. “EPA’s interpretation . . . would bring about an enormous and transformative expansion in EPA’s regulatory authority without clear congressional authorization,” the Court stated.181Id. “We expect Congress to speak clearly if it wishes to assign to an agency decisions of vast ‘economic and political significance.’ ”182Id. (quoting FDA v. Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp., 529 U.S. 120, 160 (2000)).

Utility Air is an unusual case. There, the EPA explicitly acknowledged that its statutory interpretation would open the door to the regulation of millions more facilities.183Id. at 322. In other words, the agency connected the dots from Rule Ra to Rz itself. Utility Air thus did not require litigants to make the highly risky move of arguing for a more expansive understanding of an agency’s authority, nor did it require courts to embark on an unguided imaginative journey into the land of regulatory hypotheticals. These unusual features of Utility Air help to account for the willingness of industry litigants and Justices to travel down the ex ante anti-avoidance path. In other cases, the difficulties of ex ante anti-avoidance from both a judicial-management and litigation-strategy perspective are likely to encourage a greater emphasis on the ex post alternative.184The manageability challenge inherent in ex ante avoidance implicates not only the ability of courts to manage their own dockets but also the ability of the Supreme Court to oversee lower courts. When judicial standards are ambiguous or ill-formed, the Supreme Court will face greater difficulty policing lower-court discretion. I thank Sarah Seo and Barry Friedman for both raising this point independently. For examples of this phenomenon from the Second Amendment context, see Brannon P. Denning & Glenn H. Reynolds, Trouble’s Bruen: The Lower Courts Respond, 108 Minn. L. Rev. 3187, 3196–3220 (2024).

B. Ex Post Anti-Avoidance

Whereas ex ante anti-avoidance requires a court to anticipate what future regulations might follow from an agency’s interpretation of a statute, ex post anti-avoidance allows courts to adopt a wait-and-see approach. Consider again the example of an agency sequentially applying a series of rules (Ra, Rb, Rc, and so forth) to different industries. Ex post anti-avoidance would let a litigant challenge a later rule in the sequence (say, Rz) on the ground that rules Ra through Rz—in combination—trigger the major questions doctrine. Thus, ex post anti-avoidance averts two of the major difficulties facing ex ante anti-avoidance: (1) ex post anti-avoidance does not require litigants to argue for a more expansive understanding of agency authority, and (2) ex post anti-avoidance does not require courts to conjure up rules that do not yet exist.

For these reasons, major questions anti-avoidance—to the extent that it ever takes shape—is likelier to crystallize in ex post rather than ex ante form. Still, ex post anti-avoidance encounters difficulties of its own. The first is jurisdictional: even if a court concludes on a challenge to rule Rz that the combination of rules Ra through Rz trigger the major questions doctrine, regulated actors in industry A may not be party to the case involving Z. Moreover, the court’s anti-avoidance decision in the Z case may have uncertain implications for A, B, and C, as the agency may have additional area-specific rationales for its rules in those industries that require individualized adjudication. Thus, the class action mechanism may be a poor fit for ex post anti-avoidance cases,185See Fed. R. Civ. P. 23(a)(3) (typicality requirement for class actions). requiring a flood of follow-on cases in order to wipe the regulatory slate clean.

Aside from the jurisdictional challenges (which may turn into docket management challenges if an ex post anti-avoidance decision for industry Z sets off a deluge of follow-on suits from regulated parties subject to earlier rules in the sequence), ex post anti-avoidance confronts courts with the challenge of determining which rules are sufficiently similar that they should be considered as part of the aggregate that is analyzed for majorness. Not all regulatory sequences will announce themselves as clearly as the alphabetical examples in this Article. And the aggregation challenge will prove particularly burdensome in the lumping context, where aggregation requires a comparison of regulations promulgated under different statutory authorities. Granted, courts make difficult determinations of similarity in other settings—ranging from anti-discrimination law to antitrust law—though, in many of those settings, courts struggle with the similarity inquiry.186See, e.g., United States v. Bailey, No. 20-5951, 2021 U.S. App. LEXIS 24771, at *9 n.7 (6th Cir. Aug. 17, 2021) (observing, in the context of the federal criminal supervised release statute, that “[d]efining what counts as sufficiently ‘similar’ to warrant . . . comparison is no easy task”). What we can say with confidence is that while ex post avoidance may not be impossible, it will place new doctrinal-development demands on the judiciary.

Finally, the most significant challenge for ex post anti-avoidance is that it may come too late to change on-the-ground realities. Most of the Court’s major questions cases—including the COVID-19 vaccine mandate case,187Nat’l Fed’n of Indep. Bus. v. Dep’t of Lab., 142 S. Ct. 661, 664 (2022). the Clean Power Plan case,188West Virginia v. EPA, 142 S. Ct. 2587, 2604 (2022). and the student loan case189Biden v. Nebraska, 143 S. Ct. 2355, 2365 (2023).—reached the Court in a pre-enforcement posture. Once a rule has gone into effect and parties have begun to comply—once vaccine doses have gone into arms or scrubbers have been installed on power plants—those regulatory consequences are difficult to undo. That was the rationale for the Court’s Abbott Labs doctrine favoring pre-enforcement review of regulatory action: if a court decision was to shield regulated parties from a rule’s consequences, the decision ought to come before parties “change[d] all their labels, advertisements, and promotional materials,” “destroy[ed] stocks,” and “invest[ed] heavily in . . . new supplies.”190See Abbott Labs. v. Gardner, 387 U.S. 136, 152–53 (1967). With ex post anti-avoidance, by contrast, rule Ra might remain in force for industry A for several months or years before a court concludes in an industry Z case that the agency’s sequence of rules Ra through Rz trigger major questions scrutiny. Thus, even if courts can overcome the judicial manageability challenges of ex post anti-avoidance, agencies still will have opportunities to reshape entire industries before ex post anti-avoidance cuts off their regulatory efforts.

Conclusion

Major questions avoidance illustrates the concept of question size elasticity in both directions. Not only can a larger regulatory question be subdivided into several smaller ones, but the seemingly self-contained topic of major questions avoidance also inspires much larger theoretical and empirical inquiries that go to the heart and soul of the modern administrative state. Predicting the probability of major questions avoidance required us to delve deeply into the motives of agency officials. Evaluating the normative desirability of avoidance necessitated a broader theory of administrative state legitimacy. And playing out the chess match of anti-avoidance highlighted the limits of judicial power: when agencies respond strategically to new administrative law doctrines, courts will struggle to counter the agencies’ moves—especially when the clock is running and regulations that are in force only temporarily can have permanent practical effects.

With respect to all the major questions raised by major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance, our answers at this early stage are—and can be—only tentative. What already seems clear, though, is that careful and critical reflection on the empirical, normative, and jurisprudential dimensions of major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance can generate insights that travel far beyond the major question doctrine’s domain. Mapping and exploring the terrain of major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance can give us a clearer view of the theories that justify agency power and the extent to which that power can be constrained by the judiciary. In the end, major questions avoidance and anti-avoidance—whether or not they are desirable developments—have the virtue of offering us a new, richer, and more nuanced perspective on both the legitimacy and the adaptability of the modern administrative state.

 

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1497

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*Professor of Law, New York University School of Law. For helpful comments, the author thanks Beau Baumann, Blake Emerson, Barry Friedman, Jonathan Gould, Oren Tamir, and participants in workshops at the New York University School of Law and the University of Southern California Gould School of Law. Bhargav Tata provided excellent research assistance.

The Supervisory Power of State Supreme Courts

State supreme courts are currently center stage as they face some of the most important issues of our time. But nearly all of the attention is focused on their ability to interpret state constitutions to provide rights guarantees that the U.S. Supreme Court has diminished or eliminated from the Federal Constitution. While important, judicial review is but one instance of a state high court’s authority. Their supervisory power—the primary source of judicial administrative authority—has served as a vital source of policymaking power to safeguard individual rights and enhance the public good. Supreme courts have relied on their supervisory power to reimagine state criminal justice systems, reduce homelessness, strengthen voting rights, expand protections for immigrants, and more. Despite its significance, this feature of state court practice has gone virtually unnoticed. As advocates increasingly look to state courts to address more and more of society’s complex and consequential issues, this distinctive aspect of their power is worth exploring.

This Article unpacks the supervisory power by mapping its sources, applications, and limits. The supervisory power has a basis in all fifty state constitutions and enables supreme courts to oversee their judiciary’s workload and operations. But as this Article shows, high courts are using this power beyond the humdrum of judicial administration to enhance substantive rights and remedies, facilitate their law development and agenda-setting capabilities, and mediate interbranch frictions. This Article’s core claim is that these more expansive applications of the supervisory power are generally defensible based on the evolution of state judiciaries and supreme courts’ unique roles in state governments. The twentieth century saw a dramatic reimagining of state high courts from inferior instruments for the other branches to powerful, coordinate members of the state policymaking apparatus. In addition to overseeing the judiciary’s operations, the supervisory power thus plays an important role in a high court’s ability to contribute to state governance.

This account of the supervisory power is broad but not unlimited. The Article highlights the supervisory power’s internal and external limits and sketches its metes and bounds to help frame its future applications. The Article then considers this judicial practice within larger debates on judicial policymaking and state constitutional structure. It engages with critiques of a more active judicial role and lawmaking powers. It explains that the key institutional assumptions behind such assessments do not map so easily onto the unique structure of state judiciaries. Stepping back, the Article encourages a broader but more nuanced view of state judicial power and the function of state high courts that wield it.

  Introduction

In recent years, advocates have increasingly looked to state judiciaries to serve as a backstop against federal rights retrenchment.1See, e.g., Matthew Segal & Julie Murray, State Supreme Courts Offer the Best Chance to Advance Rights, ACLU (May 2, 2023), https://www.aclu.org/news/civil-liberties/state-supreme-courts-offer-the-best-chance-to-advance-rights [https://perma.cc/X5JA-2KKE]; Alicia Bannon, Opinion, The Supreme Court Is Retrenching. States Don’t Have To., Politico (June 29, 2022), https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2022/06/29/supreme-court-rights-00042928 [https://web.archive.org/web/20230923215043/https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2022/06/29/supreme-court-rights-00042928]; Eyal Press, Can State Supreme Courts Preserve—or Expand—Rights?, New Yorker (June 3, 2024), https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/06/10/can-state-supreme-courts-preserve-or-expand-rights [https://web.archive.org/web/20250225120737/https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/06/10/can-state-supreme-courts-preserve-or-expand-rights]. More and more, state high courts are taking up some of the most consequential issues of our time, ranging from abortion rights and climate change to gender and racial equality.2See, e.g., Press, supra note 1; Lara Bazelon & James Forman, Aim Lower, Liberals Have Lost the Supreme Court for a Generation. Their Only Hope Is to Seize State Courts and Launch a Counterrevolution., N.Y. Mag. (July 5, 2023), https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2023/07/liberals-should-use-state-courts-to-check-the-supreme-court.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20241122062319/https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2023/07/liberals-should-use-state-courts-to-check-the-supreme-court.html]; Reproductive Rights in State Constitutional Law, Transcript of Panel from Symposium: The Promise and Limits of State Constitutions, State Ct. Rep. (Feb. 9, 2024), https://statecourtreport.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/reproductive-rights-state-constitutional-law [https://perma.cc/S5MC-9XNY]; Martha F. Davis, The Greening of State Constitutions, State Ct. Rep. (Aug. 14, 2023), https://statecourtreport.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/greening-state-constitutions [https://perma.cc/TLZ6-E3YP]. Driving this turn to the states is the realization that state supreme courts can interpret state constitutions to provide greater rights protections than their federal counterpart.3See, e.g., Christine Fernando & Andrew DeMillo, Abortion Debate Creates ‘New Era’ for State Supreme Court Races in 2024, with Big Spending Expected, Associated Press (Dec. 29, 2023), https://apnews.com/article/state-supreme-courts-abortion-redistricting-2024-931a453131fac282815ae31b4f0ea271 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250421024008/https://apnews. com/article/state-supreme-courts-abortion-redistricting-2024-931a453131fac282815ae31b4f0ea271] (statement of Brigette Amiri, deputy director at the ACLU’s Reproductive Freedom Project) (“After Roe v. Wade was overturned, we had to turn to state courts and state constitutions as the critical backstop to protecting access to abortion.”); Jess Krochtengel, State Constitutions Take Spotlight Post-Dobbs, Law360 (Jan. 10, 2023), https://www.law360.com/articles/1564233/state-constitutions-take-spotlight-post-dobbs [https://perma.cc/C9FX-R9HW].

But as some court scholars have reminded us, a narrow focus on judicial review risks an incomplete understanding of how these institutions function.4See Robert F. Williams, State Constitutional Law Processes, 24 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 169, 207–08 (1983) (suggesting that state constitutional law scholars too often overlook aspects of state court power beyond judicial review); cf. Martin Shapiro, Public Law and Judicial Politics, in Political Science: The State of the Discipline II 365, 365–66 (Ada W. Finifter ed., 1993) (making a similar claim concerning scholars who study the U.S. Supreme Court). For those who study state courts, limiting our attention to conventional features of judicial power is more likely to result in undertheorized conceptions of what it is state courts do. However, for those looking to state courts as a possible response to regressive federal policies, such a singular view risks overlooking the full potential of state judiciaries. Indeed, for state high courts, their supervisory power—the primary source of their administrative authority—has played an essential part in their roles as constitutional innovators and in providing for the public good.

The supervisory authority is a freestanding source of flexible, discretionary power.5See infra Section II.B.1. It can supplement or enhance other aspects of court authority, as well as serve as a standalone basis for judicial action. It is not subject to many of the traditional limits on judicial authority, like justiciability and stare decisis, enabling courts to act where they might otherwise be unable to. And courts can use the power through adjudication as well as outside of resolving a case. Thus, at its most basic level, the power enhances a state supreme court’s capacity.6See infra Section II.A.

The supervisory power has roots in all fifty state constitutions and provides the authority for supreme courts to manage the judiciary. It enables them to oversee judiciary personnel, control the court systems’ workloads, and supervise their general operations.7For more detail on the definition this Article uses, see infra notes 20–22 and accompanying text. Courts rely on this power to close courthouses due to inclement weather, impose workplace vaccination policies for judiciary personnel, manage complex litigation, revise and implement new jury instructions, and more.

However, this Article shows that state high courts use the power for much more than that. Indeed, despite its seemingly managerial focus, state supreme courts have relied on their supervisory power to craft sub-constitutional rights, strike statutes, and fill policy gaps left by the legislative and executive branches, among other more expansive applications.

In the past few years alone, the supervisory power has been at the center of some of the highest-profile cases in state courts. For example, following a report revealing a Massachusetts drug lab had fabricated evidence in thousands of cases over several years, the Commonwealth’s highest court fashioned a historic remedy, ordering dismissal of more than 24,000 convictions obtained as a result of the lab’s work.8See Comm. for Pub. Couns. Servs. v. Att’y Gen., 108 N.E.3d 966, 988–89 (Mass. 2018); Press, supra note 1. Several states have reformed their jury systems, emphasizing the harsh realities of racial bias in jury selection, porous nature of federal constitutional protections, and the bleak outlook at the U.S. Supreme Court for revitalizing relevant doctrines.9See, e.g., Order Amending Rules 18.4 & 18.5 of the Rules of Criminal Procedure & Rule 47(e) of the Rules of Civil Procedure, In re Rules 18.4 & 18.5, Rules of Crim. Proc. & Rule 47(e), of the Ariz. Rules of Civ. Proc., No. R-21-0020 (Ariz. Aug. 30, 2021); State v. Andujar, 254 A.3d 606, 626 (N.J. 2021); N.J. Cts., Rule 1:8-3A (“Reduction of Bias in the Exercise of Peremptory Challenges”) (August 2022) https://www.njcourts.gov/sites/default/files/attorneys/jury-reforms/newrule183a.pdf [https://perma.cc/8DZQ-MUFR]. See also Thomas Ward Frampton & Brandon Charles Osowski, The End of Batson? Rulemaking, Race, and Criminal Procedure Reform, 124 Colum. L. Rev. 1, 54–56 (2024) (studying the role of state supreme court rulemaking power and supervisory authority in jury reform in the context of additional ways state courts can exceed the limits of constitutional doctrine). Nearly a dozen supreme courts sought to limit the harms associated with homelessness in their states during the COVID-19 pandemic by preventing trial courts from hearing eviction proceedings.

Additional examples abound. High courts have relied on their supervisory power to craft sub-constitutional privacy rights; enhance administrative protections for incarcerated people; provide a right to civil representation for indigent parties; allow non-parties to appeal adverse decisions; and facilitate global settlements in complex civil cases.10See infra Part II.A.1 (providing additional examples). Further, courts have used their supervisory power to collaborate with other branches to make policies across a host of important areas, ranging from public health to criminal justice to housing.

Many of these examples drew national attention and helped highlight the possibilities and promise that lie in state institutions to make our legal system more just.11See, e.g., Press, supra note 1; Leah Litman, Mary Ziegler, Erwin Chemerinsky, Anthony Sanders, Ilya Somin, Michael Burger, Julie Murray, Miriam Seifter, Andrea Lewis Hartung, Marcus Gadson, Joshua A. Douglas, Meryl Justin Chertoff & Kathrina Szymborski Wolfkot, 2023’s Most Significant State Constitutional Cases, State Ct. Rep. (Dec. 19, 2023), https://statecourtreport.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/2023s-most-significant-state-constitutional-cases [https://perma.cc/3YMJ-52U6]. But while the spotlight shined on the outcomes themselves, what made them possible largely remained in the shadows—the courts’ supervisory power.

Like state high courts, the U.S. Supreme Court has supervisory power as well. To sharpen our understanding of the state-court power, we should consider its federal counterpart, too. As we shall see, the two differ in important ways. The federal supervisory power is rarely used, narrower in scope, and less powerful. Despite this asymmetry, the U.S. Supreme Court’s supervisory power has attracted a significant amount of scholarly attention.12See, e.g., Sara Sun Beale, Reconsidering Supervisory Power in Criminal Cases: Constitutional and Statutory Limits on the Authority of the Federal Courts, 84 Colum. L. Rev. 1433 (1984); Amy Coney Barrett, The Supervisory Power of the Supreme Court, 106 Colum. L. Rev. 324 (2006); Robert J. Pushaw, Jr., The Inherent Powers of Federal Courts and the Structural Constitution, 86 Iowa L. Rev. 735 (2001); James E. Pfander, Marbury, Original Jurisdiction, and the Supreme Court’s Supervisory Powers, 101 Colum. L. Rev. 1515 (2001); James E. Pfander, Jurisdiction-Stripping and the Supreme Court’s Power to Supervise Inferior Tribunals, 78 Tex. L. Rev. 1433 (2000) [hereinafter Pfander, Jurisdiction-Stripping]; Bruce A. Green, Federal Courts’ Supervisory Authority in Federal Criminal Cases: The Warren Court Revolution That Might Have Been, 49 Stetson L. Rev. 241 (2020). That literature has largely viewed the power with skepticism.13See Note, Equity and the Power of Procedural Supervision, 137 Harv. L. Rev. 1425, 1426 n.11 (2024) (collecting sources). Critics question its legitimacy because it lacks a plausible source, is inconsistent with the Court’s role, and is in tension with federal separation-of-powers principles.14See infra notes 265–275 and accompanying text.

Things look very different in the states. The supervisory power is a regular part of supreme court practice; its applications are more expansive, and it is significantly more potent than its federal analogue.15See infra Section II.A.1. Further, state supreme courts invoke the supervisory authority proactively, instead of waiting for parties to file suit, challenging certain institutional assumptions as to how courts exercise authority.16As described in greater detail below, this is distinguishable from advisory opinions—another manifestation of state court power that is often used to differentiate state high courts from their federal counterpart. See infra note 192 and accompanying text. Briefly, advisory opinions are still reactive in nature—a coordinate branch (governor or legislature) will seek the high court’s advice on an issue. In contrast, state high courts, when wielding the supervisory power, need not wait. Despite its significance, the state supervisory power has generated little scholarly attention. This Article thus shines a light on a consequential yet overlooked aspect of state court practice.

The Article’s core claim is that these more expansive applications of the supervisory power are a generally defensible aspect of state supreme court practice that follows from the modern institutional development of state high courts and can be defended as a distinctive feature of their role in state governance.

To advance this thesis, Part I begins by exploring where the supervisory power comes from. It first canvasses all fifty state constitutions, showing that the power has a basis in each state charter. That constitutional foundation alone, however, does not provide the supervisory power’s full genealogy. Part I thus turns to how the relevant state constitutional provisions came to be—as well as the institutional developments that prompted them. It traces the evolution of modern state supreme courts and their need for broad, flexible sources of power. During the twentieth century, state court reformers like Roscoe Pound and the American Judicature Society sought to elevate state judiciaries from simply a collection of courts to a meaningful, coordinate branch. Their efforts changed the structure of court systems, the role of supreme courts in state governance, and the scope of supreme court authority. They gave supreme courts more power—namely, the supervisory power—and revised the background assumptions that governed how courts use it. That background tells us where the supervisory authority came from and provides context for understanding the broader applications at the heart of this Article.

Part II presents a descriptive account of the supervisory authority, highlighting state high courts’ more expansive applications of the power. That account shows us that state supervisory practice is vast and varied. To account for this complexity, the Article provides a taxonomy that describes both the power’s many functions and its key attributes. It shows that the power is a highly flexible, potent form of judicial authority that enables supreme courts to effectuate the judiciary’s prerogatives as well as the public interest. This account is deepened by considering its federal counterpart. A brief review of the U.S. Supreme Court’s supervisory power demonstrates that state supervisory power differs in kind—a feature of state court practice that exceeds the boundaries surrounding its federal analogue.

Part II presents a broad, potent, and highly discretionary form of judicial power. However, the supervisory power is not unlimited. Part III explores its boundaries and limits. To account for the power’s breadth and flexibility, I draw on case law, state constitutional structure, and social science literature to propose a model I refer to as the zone of supervision that sketches the perimeter of the power’s permissible uses. I then turn to how courts are sanctioned when they step outside their zone of supervision. In short, state

constitutional structure provides tools to control and limit judicial power when courts exceed their zone of supervision.

Finally, Part IV considers the supervisory power’s theoretical and normative implications. At a conceptual level, this Article’s account of the supervisory power expands our understanding of supreme courts’ policymaking capacities and roles within a state’s broader governance apparatus. As a normative matter, Part IV considers the arguments against expansive notions of judicial policymaking and concludes such criticisms are based on institutional assumptions that do not track state judicial structures. Thus, broad uses of the supervisory power are not per se problematic; we should instead evaluate each use on a retail level with regard to a court’s own zone of supervision.

Stepping back, this Article makes three contributions. First, it offers a taxonomy that maps supreme courts’ varied uses of their supervisory power and its key attributes. Second, it plots the supervisory power’s limits and proposes a model that explains prior uses of the supervisory power and helps frame its application in the future. Finally, this Article makes a normative claim, arguing that supreme courts’ expansive uses of their supervisory power are a generally defensible and legitimate feature of state court practice.

One additional note before proceeding: this Article is in service of a larger project to understand state courts and their role in state governance. For years, these institutions have largely occupied a scholarly “backwater.”17Cf. Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Reflections on the Hart and Wechsler Paradigm, 47 Vand. L. Rev. 953 (1994) (describing the perceptions of some scholars of the field of federal courts). But as we have seen, that relative inattention to state courts has surfaced at the heart of some of the most pressing issues of our time, complicating those questions in the context of both state and federal public law.18See, e.g., Press, supra note 1 (discussing the role of state institutions in the context of democracy, climate, criminal justice, and more); Moore v. Harper, 600 U.S. 1 (2023) cf. Williams, supra note 4, 207–08 (noting the paucity of scholarship on the various powers of state high courts beyond judicial review in the state constitutional law literature). To that end, this Article’s thesis supports a broader call to conceive of state courts on their

own terms.19In this sense, I join some of the existing voices calling for a greater substantive and methodological emphasis on the nuance and complexity that attend state courts. See, e.g., Adam B. Sopko, Invisible Adjudication in State Supreme Courts, 102 N.C. L. Rev. 1449, 1500–15 (2024); Anna E. Carpenter, Jessica K. Steinberg, Colleen F. Shanahan & Alyx Mark, Studying the “New” Civil Judges, 2018 Wis. L. Rev. 249, 250–55 (2018); Anna E. Carpenter, Alyx Mark, Colleen F. Shanahan & Jessica K. Steinberg, The Field of State Civil Courts, 122 Colum. L. Rev. 1165 (2022); Justin Weinstein-Tull, The Structures of Local Courts, 106 Va. L. Rev. 1031 (2020). We should not presume that frames and norms born in the federal courts are appropriate, ideal, or even applicable to state courts. Instead, these institutions deserve their own investment to surface their puzzles and better understand their possibilities.

I. The Creation of State Judiciaries and the Supervisory Power

The supervisory power is the lifeblood of state supreme courts. As this Article shows, it enables them to facilitate the judiciary’s day-to-day operations, protect their institutional interests, advance their prerogatives as a coequal branch in state governance, and more. To understand this power, then, we must evaluate both how it came to be and its relationship to courts’ institutional identities. This Part takes up that task. As shown in the first Section below, the supervisory authority is a constitutional power—it claims a constitutional basis in all fifty states, either through express provision or judicial interpretation of more general language.

But these constitutional roots do not tell us everything. We must also consider the creation of the underlying state constitutional provisions—and the institutions they empower. The second Section traces that story by exploring the institutional development of modern state supreme courts and its connection to the supervisory power. State court reform efforts during the twentieth century sought to elevate state judiciaries from simply a collection of courts to a meaningful coordinate branch. Those efforts changed the structure of court systems, their role in state governance, and the scope of supreme court authority. They gave supreme courts more power—namely, the supervisory power—and revised the background assumptions that governed how courts use it. Those changes set the baseline for both the institution and modern supervisory practice.

Before turning to where the supervisory power comes from, we should note this Article’s definition of the concept. State courts have rarely provided a clear description of the power. They have largely relied on vague statements and citations to capture the wide universe of how they use the power.20See, e.g., Bennett L. Gershman, Supervisory Power of the New York Courts, 14 Pace L. Rev. 41, 44 (1994) (“[T]he New York courts have never actually formulated a doctrine of supervisory jurisdiction, nor have the courts carefully analyzed the principles underlying the exercise of such power. The decisions most often are guarded, ad hoc, unreasoned, and inconsistent.”). This Article’s definition reflects that ambiguity but attempts to bring clarity to the concept through a synthesis of this distinctive court practice within states and across them.

The supervisory authority is a power that state high courts possess either because it is expressly provided by a state’s constitution or because courts have adopted it by construing more general constitutional provisions.21The constitutional basis for this power is discussed in greater detail below. See infra notes 23–30 and accompanying text. It is the primary source of administrative authority for state high courts to oversee the judiciary. It facilitates judicial administration, personnel management, and general control of the court system’s workload and operations. Those categories include both judiciary policymaking and case management decisions.22And here, there can be a range in terms of scope. For example, policymaking can include questions like whether judiciary personnel must be masked in the workplace during a contagious pandemic, as well as how best to eliminate racial bias from the court system. Case management can include decisions like whether a particular case should be transferred to another judge and whether several hundred disputes arising from a single mass tort should be consolidated on a single court’s docket. While this power may at times implicate other aspects of supreme court authority, like regulatory oversight of the practice of law and judicial discipline, courts typically understand these powers as distinct from their supervisory authority.

Figure 1 below approximates the relative relationship between the supervisory power and more familiar forms of judicial authority.

Figure 1.  The Supervisory Power versus Other Forms of Court Power

These forms of power overlap because the supervisory authority is its own standalone source of power that courts use as the sole source of a decision. But courts can also rely on the power to supplement other aspects of their authority. For example, to enhance its powers of ordinary judicial review, a court might use its supervisory power to override justiciability defects or find that a party has violated a statute and use its supervisory power to enhance an ordinary remedy.

It can also supplement other distinct forms of judicial power, like courts’ disciplinary authority over judges. For example, a supreme court’s formal disciplinary authority may avail it of only a limited number of sanctions—suspending a judge or removing them—whereas the court can discipline judges in other ways that fall below such penalties via the supervisory power, like transferring a case away from a judge for misbehavior that does not rise to the level of formal suspension or removal. These brief examples highlight the supervisory power’s hallmark of flexibility and informality, which I discuss in more detail in Section II.A.

To be sure, this simplistic diagram does not fully capture the supervisory power’s nuance. That is best demonstrated through the examples provided in Part II. This rough sketch is designed to help complement the basic definition provided above as well as the more detailed historical and doctrinal discussions that follow.

A. State Constitutional Roots

State high courts in all fifty states claim a constitutional basis for their supervisory power. In thirty-two states, high courts locate the supervisory power in the text of their state constitution. The language differs somewhat from state to state, but formulations include “[g]eneral administrative and supervisory authority,” “administrative supervision over all the courts of the state,” “general supervision and control of courts of inferior jurisdiction,” “general superintending control over all inferior courts,” “administration and supervision,” and so on. These clauses vest this power in the supreme court, the chief justice, or both. Of these states, twenty-one have a clause that explicitly refers to a supervisory authority.23Those states are Alabama, Ala. Const., § 140; Arkansas, Ark. Const. amend. LXXX, § 4; Colorado, Colo. Const. art. VI, § 2 (1); Delaware, Del. Const. art. IV § 13; Illinois, Ill. Const. art. VI, § 16; Indiana, Ind. Const. art. VII, § 4; Iowa, Iowa Const. art. V, § 4; Louisiana, La. Const. art. V, § 5(A); Michigan, Mich. Const. art. VI, § 4; Missouri, Mo. Const. art. V, § 4; Montana, Mont. Const. art. VII, § 2; New Mexico, N.M. Const. art. VI, § 3; New York, N.Y. Const. art. VI, § 28; Ohio, Ohio Const. art. IV, § 5; Oklahoma, Okla. Const. art. VII, § 4; Pennsylvania, Pa. Const. art. 5, § 10; Texas, Tex. Const. art. V, §§ 3, 31; Vermont, Vt. Const. ch. II, § 30; West Virginia, W.Va. Const. art. VIII, §§ 3, 16; Wisconsin, Wis. Const. art. VII, § 3; Wyoming, Wyo. Const. art. V, § 2. In the other eleven states, courts rely on the constitution’s general grant of judicial power or another specific clause,24In Maine, Maryland, and Washington, the high courts point to the general judicial power clause in the state constitution. Me. Const. art. VI, § 1 (judicial power clause); State v. White, 285 A.3d 262, 273 (Me. 2022) (construing it as such); Md. Const. art. IV, § 18; In re Petition for Writ of Prohibition, 539 A.2d 664, 669–70 (Md. 1988); Wash. Const. art. IV, § 1; State v. Fields, 530 P.2d 284, 286 (Wash. 1975). In Alaska and New Jersey, the supreme courts locate their supervisory power in a constitutional provision that vests both rulemaking power as well as regulatory authority over the practice of law. Alaska Const. art. IV, § 15; N.J. Const. art. VI, § 2. That Alaska and New Jersey locate their supervisory power in the same place should be unsurprising, as the judiciary article of Alaska’s constitution was based primarily on New Jersey’s. See Mildred R. Hermann, Building a State Judiciary, 39 Neb. L. Rev. 265, 271–72 (1960); Robert F. Williams, Alaska, The Last Statehood Constitution, and Subnational Rights and Governance, 35 Alaska L. Rev. 139, 154 (2018) (noting that one of the drafters of the Garden State’s judicial article participated in the drafting of Alaska’s first constitution). infer the power from multiple clauses related to the judiciary,25Arizona, Ariz. Const. art. VI, §§ 1, 3; Kentucky, Ky. Const. §§ 110, 115, 116; Barker v. Com., 379 S.W.3d 116, 126 (Ky. 2012) (stating that sections 110, 115, and 116 of the Kentucky Constitution “extend to the Supreme Court of Kentucky supervisory powers over the judicial branch”); Utah Const. art. V, § 1, art. VIII, §§ 1, 4; State v. Thurman, 846 P.2d 1256, 1266 (Utah 1993). To be sure, Utah’s high court has referred to its supervisory power as “inherent,” as well as “constitutionally granted.” Id.; Pleasant Grove City v. Terry, 478 P.3d 1026, 1040 (Utah 2020). As noted in this Article, such conceptions of the supervisory power are not inconsistent—because the supreme courts are creatures of the state constitution, their powers, even if unwritten or underdetermined, flow from the constitution itself. or from the judiciary article as a whole.26Florida, Fla. Const. art. V; North Carolina, N.C. Const. art. IV; South Carolina, S.C. Const. art. V.

A further ten supreme courts refer to their supervisory authority as an “inherent” power, one that necessarily flows from the structure of the state’s judiciary and the position of the court at the top of the judicial hierarchy.27These states are California, People v. Delgadillo, 521 P.3d 360, 370 (Cal. 2022), modified, (Feb. 15, 2023), reh’g denied, (Feb. 15, 2023); Connecticut, State v. Holloway, 553 A.2d 166, 171–72 (Conn. 1989); Georgia, Hayes v. State, 405 S.E.2d 660, 668 (Ga. 1991) (Benham, J., concurring); Fleming v. State, 270 S.E.2d 185, 188 (Ga. 1980); Kansas, State v. Sherman, 378 P.3d 1060, 1076 (Kan. 2016) (referring to “our inherent supervisory powers”); Minnesota, State v. McNeilly, 6 N.W.3d 161, 193–94 (Minn. 2024); Mississippi, Dorrough v. State, 437 So. 2d 35, 37 (Miss. 1983); Nebraska, State v. Moore, 730 N.W.2d 563, 564 (Neb. 2007); Nevada, Halverson v. Hardcastle, 163 P.3d 428, 429, 439–41, 443 (Nev. 2007) (recognizing the court’s supervisory authority to administrate rules and procedures “when reasonable and necessary for the administration of justice”); Cooper v. State, 422 P.3d 722, 727 (Nev. 2018) (invoking inherent supervisory power to adopt a rule to “ensure basic fairness and to further the administration of justice”); Rhode Island, Cardinale v. Cardinale, 889 A.2d 210, 223 (R.I. 2006); and Virginia, In re Bennett, 871 S.E.2d 445, 446 (Va. 2022). The Rhode Island Supreme Court has variously described the power as “inherent,” “constitutional,” State v. Jackson, 570 A.2d 1115, 1117 (R.I. 1990), and statutory. 8 R.I. Gen. Laws Ann. § 8-1-2. (West 2025). However, it does appear to more frequently and recently refer to the power as “inherent.” One could fairly describe these states as constitutional as well, since the underlying judicial structure, like the supreme court itself, is a creature of the state constitution.

In another six states, the supervisory power is said to come from both the states’ constitutions and a statutes.28These states are Hawaii, Haw. Const. art. VI, § 1; Haw. Rev. Stat. § 602-4; (2025); Idaho, Idaho Const. art. V, § 2; Idaho Code Ann. § 1-212; (West 2025); Massachusetts, Mass. Gen. Laws ch. 211, § 3 (2024); North Dakota, N.D. Cent. Code Ann. § 27-02-05.1 (West 2025); N.D. Const. art. VI, § 2; South Dakota, S.D. Const. art. V, § 12; S.D. Codified Laws § 16-2-20 (2025); and Tennessee, Tenn. Code Ann. §§ 16-3-501–04 (West 2025). Though the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court often points to a statute as the source of its supervisory power. See Mass. Gen. Laws ch. 211, § 3 (2024). However, it has previously said that the statute merely “confirm[s]” the court’s supervisory authority that is vested by the Commonwealth’s constitution. See, e.g., Matter of DeSaulnier, 274 N.E.2d 454, 456 (Mass. 1971). Hawaii, Idaho, South Dakota, and Tennessee seem to have a similar understanding of their power. See, e.g., State v. Pattioay, 896 P.2d 911, 924 n.28 (Haw. 1995) (noting that the court’s supervisory power is “derived from the state Constitution and [is] not confined by or dependent on statute”); State v. Oldenburg, 538 P.3d 1054, 1056 (Idaho 2023) (similar); S.D. Codified Laws § 16-2-20 (“Pursuant to S.D. Const., Art. V, § 11 the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court shall have and exercise such general direction and supervision of the work of the circuit courts . . . .”); In re Bell, 344 S.W.3d 304, 305, 314 n.13 (Tenn. 2011) (noting that the legislature “may enact statutes that aid the Court in the exercise of its inherent supervisory power,” but cannot “enact statutes that frustrate or are in direct conflict with [it]”). In the remaining two states, the source of the supreme court’s supervisory power is unclear; the high courts have either declined to offer an explanation or have offered competing explanations without a clear basis to suggest why one may be correct versus the other.29These states are New Hampshire and Oregon. New Hampshire’s high court has said its supervisory power comes from statute but has also suggested that the authority is inherent in the court’s role as the highest in the state. E.g., In re C.T., 999 A.2d 210, 220 (N.H. 2010). Oregon’s Supreme Court has not explicitly referred to its supervisory power in opinions, e.g., State v. Lakeside, 561 P.2d 612, 622–23 (Or. 1977) (Denecke, C.J., dissenting) (“This court has not yet expressly held that we have supervisory power over the administration of justice in the trial courts.”), but has assumed its existence, in some cases. See, e.g., State v. Shipley, 375 P.2d 237 (Or. 1962); State v. Marsh, 490 P.2d 491 (Or. 1971). However, to the extent the court recognizes the power, it has not offered any additional details as to where the authority comes from.

To be sure, there are additional nuances behind these descriptions and categories. In the hybrid states, all six supreme courts have said expressly that their power comes from both their statutes and their states’ constitutions. However, a close reading of their opinions suggests those may be more claims of form than of substance. Indeed, in five of those six states, courts have noted in footnotes or suggested in dicta that the statute simply recognizes the authority codified in the state constitution—it does not provide it—and that even if the underlying statutes were repealed, their power would not change.30See, e.g., Pattioay, 896 P.2d at 924 n.28 (noting that the court’s supervisory power is “derived from the state Constitution and [is] not confined by or dependent on statute”); State v. Oldenburg, 538 P.3d 1054, 1056 (Idaho 2023); Kermmoade v. Quality Inn, 612 N.W.2d 583, 590 (S.D. 2000); Fullmer v. State Farm Ins. Co., 514 N.W.2d 861, 868 (S.D. 1994) (Henderson, J., concurring in part, dissenting in part); In re Bell, 344 S.W.3d at 314.

While it is helpful to know that all state high courts recognize their supervisory authority as a constitutional power, that does not fully account for how courts use it. To deepen our understanding of the supervisory authority, we must consider how the underlying state constitutional provisions came to be by tracing the formation of modern state supreme

courts. As we shall see, that story helps explain this feature of state court practice and provides insights into its normative implications.

B. The Development of Modern State Supreme Courts

This Section reviews the institutional development of state supreme courts and the connection to their supervisory power.

It begins with the need for state judicial reform in the early twentieth century. The diagnosis for these changes came from Roscoe Pound, who argued in 1906 that America’s state courts were too disorganized and complicated, and that their operations and administration were subject to excessive legislative and executive oversight. At the heart of Pound’s critique was the observation that state governments had two branches—executive and legislative—and a collection of courts; they “d[id] not have any true judicial department.”31Report of the Special Committee to Suggest Remedies and Formulate Proposed Laws to Prevent Delay and Unnecessary Cost in Litigation, 32 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 578, 593 (1909). This observation served as the central theme for the court reform movement.

This Section then examines the changes themselves and their relevance to supervisory practice. In brief, the various reforms to elevate state judiciaries to meaningfully serve as coordinate branches affected the structure of court systems, their role in state governance, and the scope of supreme court authority. Importantly, the court reform movement gave supreme courts more power—namely the supervisory power—and revised the background assumptions that governed how they use it. Those changes set the baseline for both the institution and modern practice.

1. The Need for Reform

From the colonial era through the nineteenth century, state judiciaries largely consisted of complex, fragmented networks of courts. Borrowing from the English tradition, there was a court for nearly every kind of case—admiralty, civil, criminal, equity, probate, et cetera—distributed across a multitude of jurisdictions—city, village, state, et cetera.32See, e.g., R. Stanley Lowe, Unified Courts in America: The Legacy of Roscoe Pound, 56 Judicature 316, 317–18 (1973). Their jurisdiction often overlapped, and they relied on highly formal, complicated rules of practice and pleading.33Roscoe Pound, The Rule-Making Power of The Courts, 12 A. B. A. J. 599, 599 (1926). Suits frequently bounced between courts for years due to being improperly pled for a given forum, and when a case finally reached the proper forum, courts often resolved it on procedural grounds rather than on the merits.34Lawrence M. Friedman, A History of American Law 120 (4th ed. 2019); Lowe, supra note 32, at 317. As a result, routine litigation was incredibly slow, unpredictable, and primarily an “elaborate contest of lawyerly arts.”35Friedman, supra note 39, at 116.

Institutionally, state courts were generally weak and insufficiently insulated from other branches, allowing them to intrude on judicial prerogatives and strong-arm their decision-making. Local governments were typically the source of funding for much of the early state court systems, creating perverse incentives for local political regimes to influence judicial behavior.36See Larry Berkson & Susan Carbon, Court Unification: History, Politics and Implementation 1–2 (1978). Similarly, legislatures asserted a significant amount of oversight into judicial administration, especially rulemaking.37Id. They were typically slow to respond to necessary changes to procedural rules, made litigation even more complicated when they did, and used their rulemaking power for patronage and to advance partisan interests and patronage.38See Robert W. Tobin, Creating the Judicial Branch: The Unfinished Reform 146 (1999); Glenn S. Koppel, Populism, Politics, and Procedure: The Saga of Summary Judgment and the Rulemaking Process in California, 24 Pepp. L. Rev. 455, 466 (1997).

By the turn of the twentieth century, the public viewed state courts as too slow, complex, ineffective, and politicized.39See Tobin, supra note 38, at 146. Enter Roscoe Pound. In a (now famous) speech, The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, Pound diagnosed the many flaws and inadequacies in state courts and proposed a solution: a unified court system.40Roscoe Pound, The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 29 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 395 (1906). He “attack[ed]” the existing approach to judicial administration in state courts as overly technical and inefficient, rendering courts largely ineffective.41John H. Wigmore, Roscoe Pound’s St. Paul Address of 1906: The Spark that Kindled the White Flame of Progress, 20 J. Am. Judicature Soc’y. 176, 177 (1937). He would refine his model judiciary over the subsequent decades, but at the heart of his vision, which served as the intellectual foundation for the state courts we have today, was the goal that “[u]nification . . . result in a real judicial department as a department of government.”42Roscoe Pound, Principles and Outline of a Modern Unified Court Organization, 23 J. Am. Judicature Soc’y. 225, 230–31 (1940).

Pound’s basic view was that judiciaries should consist of a fixed number of courts organized into two or three tiers (e.g., local and statewide trial courts and a supreme court), and that courts use a set of streamlined procedural rules to resolve cases on their merits more often and rely on a set of streamlined procedural rules.43Id. He also emphasized the need to vest supervisory power in a supreme court, free from legislative override, to oversee the functioning of all judiciary business.44Id. at 229–30. Without these elements, he argued, a state could not have a “true judicial department.”45Id. at 231.

2. State Court Modernization

Pound’s diagnosis and proposed intervention of a unified judiciary served as catalysts for broader efforts to reimagine state judiciaries. Over the twentieth century, leading scholars like Henry Wigmore and Arthur Vanderbilt, and national organizations like the American Bar Association and American Judicature Society, among others, all built upon Pound’s conceptual foundation by proposing a variety of model judiciary articles for states to adopt in their constitutions.46See, e.g., Berkson & Carbon, supra note 36, at 5–8 (summarizing the various proposals); Allan Ashman & Jeffrey A. Parness, The Concept of a Unified Court System, 24 DePaul L. Rev. 1 (1974) (same). By mid-century, reformers were in accord that their stated mission could not be accomplished unless state judiciaries had the ability and authority to control their businesses.47See Berkson & Carbon, supra note 36, at 6–8; Tobin, supra note 38, at 21. This linkage between establishing state judiciaries as independent, coequal branches of government and centralizing control over their operations was a central theme of the reform efforts in the latter half of the twentieth century and is largely what spawned the supervisory power we know today.48See Tobin, supra note 38, at 21–22, 146–48; Carl Baar, The Scope and Limits of Court Reform, 5 Just. Sys. J. 274, 275 (1980) (“The various structural and procedural reforms all reflect a desire to maintain the judiciary as a branch of government separate from executive and legislature, and capable of operating its own affairs.”). This stage of state court reform is occasionally referred to as the “modern courts” movement. See, e.g., Michael L. Buenger & Paul J. De Muniz, American Judicial Power: The State Court Perspective 35–36 (2015).

Ensuring that supreme courts had the capacity to oversee the judicial branch and function as a coequal branch in state governance motivated many of the judicial innovations we see in current state constitutions. Consolidating and centralizing the many courts within state systems in favor of a clear hierarchy, with the supreme court at the top, ensured a clear chain of command and control over cases and administrative business. Supreme courts were given greater (in many instances, plenary) control over procedural and administrative rulemaking as well.49Tobin, supra note 38, at 146. Together, these changes gave the judiciary absolute autonomy over workload—enabling the supreme court to transfer cases and judges to optimize court resources and craft rules that better met the needs of the judiciary and litigants.

One particular reform along these lines warrants additional discussion: the streamlining of supreme courts’ prerogative writ power. Prerogative writs—mandamus, habeas corpus, prohibition, certiorari, and quo warranto—date back to seventeenth-century England, where they “made up the heart of the supervisory powers of King’s Bench.”50Pfander, Jurisdiction-Stripping, supra note 12, at 1442. At bottom, these extraordinary forms of relief provided control over lower courts to “secure the lawful and effective administration of justice.”51See, e.g., Pushaw, supra note 12, at 803; see also, e.g., S.A. de Smith, The Prerogative Writs, 11 Cambridge L.J. 40 (1951). Indeed, for much of their existence, “[t]he authority that a state supreme court exercised over lower courts was generally confined to [prerogative writs]” or writs of error—that is, what we might understand today as an ordinary appeal.52Michael L. Buenger, Of Money and Judicial Independence: Can Inherent Powers Protect State Courts in Tough Fiscal Times?, 92 Ky. L.J. 979, 1013 (2003–2004). Relief would be issued in summary fashion where remedies at law were unavailable or unable to address the alleged harm. These writs were tools to ensure justice was done if and when a lower court erred in some extraordinary fashion.

That early practice formed the basis for the power wielded by state supreme courts after the founding.53Pfander, Jurisdiction-Stripping, supra note 12, at 1449 (“Americans quite consciously borrowed the model of King’s Bench in contending that their supreme courts enjoyed supervisory authority to monitor inferior tribunals.”). States adopted different formulations of “supervisory power”—superintending control, supervisory authority, superintendence, etc.—to refer to the same aspect of judicial power. State high courts referred to their prerogative writ power in sweeping terms: “hampered by no specific rules or means,”54Hutchins v. City of Des Moines, 157 N.W. 881, 889 (Iowa 1916). “unlimited,”55State ex rel. Fourth Nat. Bank of Phila. v. Johnson, 79 N.W. 1081, 1086 (Wis. 1899). “plenary.”56Loeb v. Collier, 59 So. 816 (La. 1912). This was because prerogative writs were designed to prevent an “injustice” caused by a lower tribunal, and such errors could come in many forms; thus, the remedial power necessarily had to be sufficiently flexible and adaptable.57See, e.g., State v. Roy, 60 P.2d 646, 662 (N.M. 1936) (“As new instances of these occur, it will be found able to cope with them. And, if required, the tribunals having authority to exercise it will, by virtue of it, possess the power to invent, frame, and formulate new and additional means, writs, and processes whereby it may be exerted.”).

Despite this intended flexibility, state prerogative writ practice nevertheless operated within the procedural norms of the time and thus was subject to the same complexity and formality that sparked the reform movement. Indeed, the broader effort to streamline procedure and practice in state courts included the prerogative writ system.58See, e.g., In re LiVolsi, 428 A.2d 1268, 1276–77 (N.J. 1981) (“The prerogative writ clause of the 1947 New Jersey Constitution was intended to streamline and strengthen the traditional prerogative writs which were available in the pre-1947 Supreme Court.”). Innovations included “all writs” or “in lieu of prerogative writs” amendments in state constitutions.59See, e.g., Iowa Const. art. V, § 4; Ky. Const. § 110(2)(a); Ark. Const. art. VII; N.J. Const. art. VI, § 5. These provisions vested more power in supreme courts to provide relief in instances that might not have fallen easily into existing categories and more discretion to grant relief notwithstanding technical errors from a petitioner that would have otherwise foreclosed a remedy under prior practices. In other words, distinct from ordinary appellate review, this reform enabled high courts to intervene at any stage of litigation to correct an error or omission that is sufficiently unfair or unjust.60See, e.g., Monks v. N.J. State Parole Bd., 277 A.2d 193, 198 (N.J. 1971) (providing a synthesis of New Jersey’s relevant history); In re Jerrell C.J., 699 N.W.2d 110, 124–38 (Wis. 2005) (Abrahamson, C.J., concurring); Larry Howell, “Purely the Creature of the Inventive Genius of the Court”: State Ex Rel. Whiteside and the Creation and Evolution of the Montana Supreme Court’s Unique and Controversial Writ of Supervisory Control, 69 Mont. L. Rev. 1, 58–68 (2008).

In addition to prerogative writ powers, changes to state judicial articles granted supreme courts administrative powers, explicitly granting them policymaking power to issue orders and directives to govern judiciary and non-court personnel alike. Relatedly, courts were given regulatory authority over judges and the state bar in the form of disciplinary power.61See Buenger & De Muniz, supra note 48, at 152–54. See also Nora Freeman Engstrom & James Stone, Auto Clubs and the Lost Origins of the Access-to-Justice Crisis, 134 Yale L.J. 123 (2024). Reformers also recognized that these changes to court structure necessitated a “soft[er]” side to court business.62See Sopko, supra note 19 (discussing the “soft power” of state supreme courts); Tobin, supra note 38, at 108, 167–70. As a truly coequal branch, judiciaries require the ability to engage in “high politics” to maintain their prerogatives.63Cf. Jack M. Balkin & Sanford Levinson, Understanding the Constitutional Revolution, 87 Va. L. Rev. 1045, 1064–65 (2001) (describing “high politics” as “the promotion of larger political principles and ideological goals” and distinguishing it from “low politics”—a singular focus on partisan power plays). Indeed, as one commentator noted, such capacity is “essential” to realizing the reform movement’s larger goal of elevating the judiciary above a mere collection of courts.64Baar, supra note 48, at 278. Formal design choices and informal norms, like placing the chief justice as the head of the court system, regularizing the chief’s political responsibilities, and creating government relations offices within the judiciary, for instance, help foster this capability.65See Tobin, supra note 38, at 47–49, 148–53. All of these changes flow from the need for the supreme court to supervise and oversee

the operations of the court system and each resulted in an expansion of judicial power.66See Buenger, supra note 52, at 1011–21.

New Jersey was the first state to implement “modern court” reforms.67See, e.g., Lowe, supra note 32, at 318 (“New Jersey was the first to truly embrace the concept of court unification.”). Numerous states followed suit in subsequent decades, as reformers and scholars continued to refine the ideal judiciary structure and model constitutional article.68Beginning in 1920, with the American Judicature Society’s model constitutional article, good-government organizations and scholars introduced a new unification model every ten to fifteen years. William Raftery, Unification and “Bragency” A Century of Court Organization and Reorganization, 96 Judicature 337 (2013). Each subsequent refinement made slight tweaks to things like the number of tiers of trial courts, the level of legislative involvement in administration and rulemaking, and the role of lay judges, among other modifications. Id. This interstate variation sparked a substantial debate among scholars as to what constitutes a truly “unified” judiciary—that is, which features distinguish unified from non-unified states.69See, e.g., id. (synthesizing the debate on unification in the literature). By the early 2000s, over half of state judiciaries referred to their court systems as “unified,” notwithstanding significant structural and administrative differences between them.70See, e.g., id. at 337; Ashman & Parness, supra note 46, 19–21. Due to the widespread, but inconsistent, approach to unification by courts and conceptual disagreements among scholars, commentators have increasingly downplayed the value of evaluating unification at a retail level, with a granular focus on precise constitutional provisions.71See, e.g., Ashman & Parness, supra note 46, at 27–28; Tobin, supra note 38, at 148–49; Raftery, supra note 68, at 342–45. Instead, viewing the concept at wholesale emphasizes the reformers’ goal of establishing state judiciaries as coordinate branches of government and the associated changes in judicial perceptions and identity.

3. State Supreme Courts and State Governance

The accretion of these reforms had a significant impact on the identity of state supreme courts and informs the supervisory practice as we know it today. Specifically, there are two overlapping effects from the court reform movement that offer support for this conception of the supervisory authority. One concerns the ascendancy of state high courts’ role as a policymaker in state governance. The other relates to the increasing importance of independence for the newly established concept of a coequal branch.

The modern court reform movement came on the heels of broader governmental changes at the state level. These changes significantly influenced the policymaking capacity of state high courts. As Alan Tarr has shown, twentieth-century court reform sprang from a larger effort to shift the largely plenary policymaking power away from state legislatures.72See G. Alan Tarr, Understanding State Constitutions 118–26 (2000). Rather than a commitment to advancing the general welfare, legislators overwhelmingly pursued personal patronage and partisan interests.73See id. at 117. Indeed, by the middle of the nineteenth century, it was apparent that organizing governance around the legislature, based on the idea that they are the most democratic, and thus most responsive branch, proved to be a mistake.74See, e.g., Charles Chauncey Binney, Restrictions Upon Local and Special Legislation in the United States, 41 U. Pa. L. Rev. 613, 621 (1893) (discussing various state constitutional reforms shifting power away from the legislature as premised on the “belief that legislatures are by nature utterly careless of the public welfare, if not hopelessly corrupt”).

State constitutions were revised to place a substantial number of limits on legislative power, like single-subject rules, the creation of legislative sessions, and “positive” rights. These and related changes enhanced the level of judicial review applicable in state government. Relatedly, courts were increasingly seen as the primary “safeguard against slipshod government” in the states.75See Hans A. Linde, Judges, Critics, and the Realist Tradition, 82 Yale L.J. 227, 248 (1972); Tarr, supra note 72, at 123–24 (discussing marked increase in number of statutes state supreme courts invalidated under new state constitutional provisions). Thus, in addition to a more expansive conception of judicial power, these design choices supported the concept of a more active, engaged judiciary.

Further, as part of the larger project of decentralizing policymaking power, state high courts were folded more directly into the state governance apparatus. In addition to their existing ability to craft new causes of action under the common law, courts were given the power to oversee the regulation of the practice of law and judicial discipline,76Helen Hershkoff, State Courts and the “Passive Virtues”: Rethinking the Judicial Function, 114 Harv. L. Rev. 1833, 1902 (2001). and they were vested with the authority to exercise appointment powers,77See, e.g., N.J. Const. art. VI, § 7, ¶ 2 (vesting the Chief Justice with the power to appoint trial judges to the appellate courts); Maya Dukmasova, Dominance of Appointed Judges in Primary Election Highlights Illinois Supreme Court’s Power, Injustice Watch (Feb. 8, 2024), https://www.injusticewatch.org/judges/judicial-elections/2024/illinois-supreme-court-appointments-explainer [https://perma.cc/3783-NAK9]. direct prosecutorial discretion,78Anna Roberts, Dismissals as Justice, 69 Ala. L. Rev. 327, 330–44 (2017). and issue advisory opinions.79Hershkoff, supra note 76, at 1845. Others were given responsibilities to oversee statutory reform and participate in the legislative apportionment process. Some were even tasked with determining when officials in coordinate branches are no longer able to discharge their duties.

In addition to diffusing policy and governance powers to the courts, other reform-era changes enhanced supreme courts’ policymaking capacity —most notably, the prevalence of discretionary appellate jurisdiction and the creation of intermediate appellate courts. These innovations shifted high courts from a position of mechanical error correction to one of law development. These conceptual changes were broadly felt too, as no one particular combination of reforms was necessarily responsible for shifting a state high court from a reactive, adjudicatory body that intervenes as a last resort, to an engaged, proactive agent of state governance.80See Robert A. Kagan, Bliss Cartwright, Lawrence M. Friedman & Stanton Wheeler, The Evolution of State Supreme Courts, 76 Mich. L. Rev. 961, 962, 967 (1978) [hereinafter Kagan, Evolution]; Robert A. Kagan, Bliss Cartwright, Lawrence M. Friedman & Stanton Wheeler, The Business of State Supreme Courts, 1870-1970, 30 Stan. L. Rev. 121, 155 (1977) [hereinafter Kagan, Business]. Indeed, as Robert Kagan and others have shown, this story of institutional development reflects the “societal consensus” at the time that state supreme courts should serve as coequal participants in state governance who, like the other branches, wield their power to provide for the states’ general welfare.81See, e.g., Kagan, Evolution, supra note 80, at 983 (discussing the “emerging societal consensus that state supreme courts should not be passive, reactive bodies, which simply applied ‘the law’ to correct ‘errors’ or miscarriages of justice in individual cases, but that these courts should be policy-makers and, at least in some cases, legal innovators”); Buenger, supra note 52, at 1016 (“Perhaps the greatest impact brought by the modern institutionalization of the judiciary is . . . a broad ‘institutional’ independence, which involves notions of collective purpose with its attendant budgetary and political consequences.”).

The second relevant factor is the increasing importance of judicial independence—specifically, what that means and its linkage to the supervisory power. Before the court reform movement, considerations of independence were focused on judges—ensuring they were properly insulated to make unpopular decisions—but not on the judiciary itself.82See G. Alan Tarr, Without Fear or Favor: Judicial Independence and Judicial Accountability in the States 52–58 (2012). This makes a certain amount of sense, as state judiciaries, as a singular branch of government, were functionally nonexistent, so there was no real institution to protect. They lacked a clear political head, relied almost entirely on the other branches for operations and administration, and were funded by local governments. Institutional independence thus came not from the judiciary’s standing as a branch of government but from the independence each individual judge enjoyed.83Buenger, supra note 52, at 1014.

But the reform efforts changed this. As Robert Tobin and Michael Buenger have shown, what emerged is an institutional identity of state judiciaries.84See generally Tobin, supra note 38, at 119–53 (tracing the relevant history); Buenger, supra note 52, at 1016 (“Perhaps the greatest impact brought by the modern institutionalization of the judiciary is an alteration of how courts view themselves.”); see also Kagan, Evolution, supra note 80, at 975–80. As noted above, the modern court reform movement came on the heels of broader state-level governmental changes.85See Tarr, supra note 72, chs. 4 & 5. Those structural changes included experimenting with various methods of judicial selection, like popular elections and various formulations of merit selection, that would ensure greater independence of state court judges wielding this enhanced policymaking power.86See, e.g., Tarr, supra note 82, at 79–81.

Within these broader changes were the more specific judicial reforms discussed above. Relevant here, unification centralized more responsibilities in state judiciaries by assigning control over more programs and social services, vesting administrative and operational control in the judiciary itself —including budgetary decisions—and enhancing the scope of available judicial power to manage this construct.87See supra notes 46–71 and accompanying text. As a result, the influence of state courts relative to coordinate branches grew tremendously.88See Buenger, supra note 52, at 1015–19. Whereas in the past, state judiciaries posed a modest political threat to other branches, their elevation as a coordinate, unified branch thrust state courts deep into the political thicket. Their increased power and influence posed potential threats to the prerogatives and interests of other, now coordinate, branches.89Id. at 1019 (noting that the changes brought about by the court reform movement “altered traditional relationships within the judiciary and among the judiciary and the coordinate branches, especially the legislature,” which “have created a climate ripe for conflicts over the breadth and limits of the judiciary’s institutional independence”).

The reform movement thus imposed more responsibilities for non-adjudicative services onto judiciaries, made them more publicly accountable, and increased the level of inter-branch friction. These changes reestablished a baseline assumption of both supreme courts’ role and authority.90See id. at 1018–19 (“These same changes also altered traditional relationships within the judiciary and among the judiciary and the coordinate branches, especially the legislature.”); Tobin, supra note 38, at 119–34 (noting that state courts of the twentieth century were unrecognizable compared to prior centuries). These assumptions tracked the central themes of Pound and the other reformers, including the necessity that high courts wield a broad supervisory power to operate the newly established judicial branch.91See Tobin, supra note 38, at 23 (“Underlying these reforms was the unspoken premise that unless top judicial leaders actually have and use the authority to put the judicial house in order, then the judiciary does not deserve to be called a third branch of government”); Ashman & Parness, supra note 46, at 30–32; Frank V. Williams III, Reinventing the Courts: The Frontiers of Judicial Activism in the State Courts, 29 Campbell L. Rev. 591, 611–14 (2007). Further, the changes incentivized courts to develop identities that accounted for both their institutional interests as an independent branch of government, as well as the interests of the public, the primary source of accountability. It is in this institutional context that state high courts wield their supervisory power.

II. The Supervisory Power IN the U.S. and State Supreme Courts

Part I explored the source of the supervisory power by highlighting its constitutional basis in all fifty state charters. It further examined the historical context behind these state judicial articles and the broader institutional development that prompted them. At the center of that discussion is the growth of state judiciaries as meaningfully coequal branches, the expansion of the judicial role in state government, and the enhancement of supreme court power. That story provides helpful context for understanding the broader applications of the supervisory power at the heart of this Article.

This Part takes up the question of application by synthesizing the nature of the supervisory power and the ways state high courts use it. It provides a taxonomy that organizes the vast supervisory practice and distills the power’s hallmark features. To deepen our understanding of this aspect of state court practice, this Part considers the U.S. Supreme Court’s supervisory power, as well. That comparison further illustrates the breadth and scope of the state power and raises normative implications taken up in Part III.

A. State Supreme Court Supervisory Power

This Section provides an overview of the nature of the supervisory power as well as the ways state supreme courts use it. It draws on a survey of all fifty state high courts. The survey began with a review of judiciary articles in state constitutions as well as statutory codes to derive a set of keywords. Westlaw searches were then conducted for each state.92See, e.g., Zachary D. Clopton, Power and Politics in Original Jurisdiction, 91 U. Chi. L. Rev. 83, 106 (2024) (relying on similar methods to study original jurisdiction in state high courts). Since documents germane to this study, like administrative orders, are rarely collected by Westlaw, judiciary websites were also searched. Due to the significant limitations on access to state court documents,93See, e.g., Sopko, supra note 19, at 1464–67 (summarizing the transparency gap between state supreme courts and the U.S. Supreme Court and describing the challenges it presents scholars trying to understand state supreme court behavior). As a result of these methodological and technological limitations, the findings may be incomplete. See, e.g., Weinstein-Tull, supra note 19, at 1036–37 (discussing the methodological challenges of studying state courts); Carpenter, supra note 19, at 266–68 (similar). secondary sources were also consulted.

This Article’s primary descriptive contribution is surfacing and typologizing the many in which ways state high courts use their supervisory power beyond its quotidian administrative applications. To name a few, it can expand substantive rights and enhance remedies; facilitate supreme courts’ law development and agenda-setting capacities; and help mediate interbranch frictions. In short, the supervisory power expands state supreme court capacity. It can supplement or enhance other aspects of court authority, as well as serve as a standalone basis for judicial action. It is immune from many of the traditional limits on judicial power (e.g., justiciability) and can be wielded both outside and inside of adjudication. To be sure, this Article’s definition describes a vast landscape of judicial practice. As the first Article to provide a comprehensive review of the supervisory power’s more expansive applications,94Indeed, the two most comprehensive studies of the state supervisory power, see Jeffrey C. Dobbins, The Inherent and Supervisory Power, 54 Ga. L. Rev. 411 (2020); Felix F. Stumpf, Inherent Powers of the Courts: Sword and Shield of the Judiciary (1994), are offered as a universal description of the practice in both state and federal judiciaries. But as this Part shows, the power is meaningfully different at the state level. As such, this Article is the first comprehensive review of the phenomenon at the state level. Cf. supra note 17–19 and accompanying text (urging scholars to study state courts on their own terms rather than presuming both federal and state systems share common assumptions). greater explication is needed to understand the concept. This Part takes up that task by sketching the many uses for which state high courts rely on the supervisory power.95See infra Section II.A.1. It then provides a holistic account of the nature of the power.96See infra Section II.A.2.

  1. Uses

Uses of the supervisory power by state supreme courts are nuanced and varied. To demonstrate that breadth and complexity, this Section includes applications that are both representative and illustrative of state high court practice. This Section also provides a taxonomy to further conceptualize the power and its institutional implications.

One important descriptive insight this Article offers is that state court use of the supervisory power is not limited to the litigation context. Thus, this Section distinguishes between adjudicative and non-adjudicative uses.

a. Adjudicative

First consider the ways courts use their supervisory power in the course of adjudicating disputes.

i. Rights and Remedies

State supreme courts frequently rely on their supervisory power to reinforce constitutional and statutory rights. This most often comes in the form of ad hoc procedural rules or frameworks that enhance underlying substantive rights, like due process or protections against unreasonable searches. Courts also rely on the power to enhance or expand ordinary remedies. Some have even used their supervisory authority to craft substantive protections from outside their constitution’s bill of rights.

As to ad hoc rules and additional procedures, some state high courts have fashioned rules and procedures that exceed substantive protections under both the state and federal constitutions. For example, courts have enhanced the showing required for criminal defendants to waive counsel; strengthened protections for effective assistance of counsel; and extended the provision of assigned counsel to municipal court proceedings—all under the supervisory power.97See, e.g., State v. Connor, 973 A.2d 627 (Conn. 2009) (competence for waiver); Johnson v. State, 948 N.E.2d 331 (Ind. 2011) (effective assistance of counsel); Rodriguez v. Rosenblatt, 277 A.2d 216 (N.J. 1971) (extending provision of assigned counsel to municipal court proceedings). Such applications are common among state high courts and, as discussed below, this aspect of state supervisory practice is distinguishable from the U.S. Supreme Court’s narrower approach.98Green, supra note 12, at 257.

While less common, some state supreme courts have used their supervisory power to craft sub-constitutional substantive rights. Here, courts are announcing a rule under the supervisory power (rather than, e.g., the Speedy Trial Clause or Free Speech Clause) but drawing on constitutional values and principles for its content. New York’s high court, for instance, has developed a privacy right based on the “spirit of the Constitution,” and the Michigan Supreme Court has crafted substantive protections for certain grand jury indictees.99See People v. De Bour, 352 N.E.2d 562 (N.Y. 1976); People v. Duncan, 201 N.W.2d 629 (Mich. 1972). See also People v. Glass, 627 N.W.2d 261, 264 (Mich. 2001) (overruling Duncan as an impermissible use of the supervisory power by “creating a substantive right”). These decisions resemble common-law-like reasoning and center both on an abstract value (e.g., fairness) as well as the proper functioning of the legal system. Indeed, the New Jersey Supreme Court’s “fairness and rightness doctrine,” a body of law that includes several sub-constitutional substantive and procedural rights, is the product of its supervisory authority.100See generally Bruce D. Greenberg, New Jersey’s “Fairness and Rightness” Doctrine, 15 Rutgers L.J. 927 (1984). See also Judith S. Kaye, Foreword: The Common Law and State Constitutional Law as Full Partners in the Protection of Individual Rights, 23 Rutgers L.J. 727, 747 n.109, 747–48 (1992) (situating New Jersey’s fairness doctrine in the broader context of state constitutionalism and the development of state law as an alternative form of protection); Adam B. Sopko, Catalyzing Judicial Federalism, 109 Va. L. Rev. Online 144 (2023) (similar). One view of the New Jersey Supreme Court’s more recent fairness and rightness doctrine decisions—a product of its supervisory power conferred by the state constitution—is that the court has conflated a purely state-law doctrine with “fundamental fairness” doctrine—a strand of due process doctrine that flows from the Fourteenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. E.g., State v. Ramseur, 524 A.2d 188, 442 (N.J. 1987) (Handler, J., dissenting); Doe v. Poritz, 662 A.2d 367 (N.J. 1995); State v. Njango, 255 A.3d 1164, 1173 (N.J. 2021). Another view is cross-pollination—a feature of the supervisory power. See infra notes 127–130. Whether the court is intentionally developing doctrine across parallel paths or has mistakenly conflated these distinct doctrines is not clear.

Beyond rights, courts also rely on the power to enhance remedies. Specifically, courts use their authority to fashion extraordinary remedies for violations of constitutional and statutory rights and obligations.101See, e.g., Farmer v. Admin. Dir. of the Ct., 11 P.3d 457, 466 (Haw. 2000); State v. McKinney, 756 N.W.2d 678 (Iowa 2008). Along these lines, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court’s order discussed in the introduction illustrates how some courts use their supervisory power as a way to provide broad, systemic relief.102See supra note 9 and accompanying text. It is also used to fashion remedies for conduct that is not prohibited by statute or constitution but nevertheless violates notions of “justice,” “fairness,” and the “proper administration” of the criminal justice system.103See, e.g., In re Yasiel R., 120 A.3d 1188, 1190–91 (Conn. 2015); State v. Moore, 730 N.W.2d 563 (Neb. 2007); Comm. for Pub. Couns. Servs. v. Chief Just. of Trial Ct., 142 N.E.3d 525 (Mass. 2020); St. Joseph Med. Ctr., Inc. v. Turnbull, 68 A.3d 823 (Md. 2013). The key insight here is that courts understand the supervisory power as sufficiently flexible to remedy the variety of forms unfairness and threats to the proper administration of justice may take.104See, e.g., State v. Cook, 847 A.2d 530 (N.J. 2004) (observing that because “[t]he judiciary bears the ‘responsibility to guarantee the proper administration of justice . . . and, particularly, the administration of criminal justice,’ ” the “courts thus have the ‘independent obligation . . . to take all appropriate measures to ensure the fair and proper administration of a criminal trial’ ”); Comm. for Pub. Couns. Servs., 142 N.E.3d 525.

The uses thus far have focused on systemic applications to address “pervasive” inefficiencies or injustices. But the supervisory power serves as a tool to correct perceived unfairness for individual litigants as well.105State v. Edwards, 102 A.3d 52, 75 (Conn. 2014); see also Howell, supra note 60, at 58–68. As explained in more detail above, this common feature of the supervisory power is a progeny of state high courts’ prerogative writ power.106See supra notes 50–60 and accompanying text. Courts often refer to their supervisory power as a product or consequence of this historical practice.107See, e.g., In re Petition for Writ of Prohibition, 539 A.2d 664, 669 (Md. 1988) (“[W]e may assume that the common law power of the Court of King’s Bench to issue prerogative writs was possessed by the Provincial Court and passed to the General Court. This is consistent with the authorities we have cited and with the notion that the mandamus and prohibition powers ordinarily reside in the highest court of original jurisdiction.”); Ingram v. Oneok, Inc., 775 P.2d 810 (Okla. 1989). In these cases, courts use their power, via original petition, interlocutory motion, or sua sponte, to correct some aspect of a case, often before a final judgment. The purpose behind this aspect of supervisory practice is “to ensure public confidence in the integrity and fairness of the judicial system.”108State v. Elson, 91 A.3d 862, 885 (Conn. 2014). Accordingly, applications vary widely from revising discovery rulings109See, e.g., Howell, supra note 60. and correcting improper sentencing procedures110See, e.g., State v. Elson, 91 A.3d 862 (Conn. 2014); People v. Culbertson, 596 P.2d 1200, 1201 (Colo. 1979). to modifying the scope of lower-court rulings111See, e.g., State v. Lee, 328 P.3d 424 (Idaho 2014). and addressing explicit judicial bias mid-trial.112See, e.g., Joseph v. Scranton Times L.P., 987 A.2d 633 (Pa. 2009). The representative case among all state judiciaries is where a lower court has erred, with respect to either applying binding law or discretionary decision-making, and where the resulting prejudice cannot be remedied on appeal. However, in some states, high courts have used the supervisory power along these lines where appellate relief was sufficient.113See, e.g., Rivera v. Cataldo, 537 P.3d 1167 (Haw. 2023); Pierce v. Anderson, 912 N.W.2d 291 (N.D. 2018); Smith v. Bd. of Cnty. Comm’rs of Okla. Cnty., 208 P.2d 177 (Okla. 1949).

ii. Law Development

As the courts of last resort in their respective states, supreme courts are tasked with addressing matters of first impression, updating precedents where necessary, and shepherding the state’s common law, among other law development responsibilities.114See Kagan, Evolution, supra note 80; Victor Eugene Flango, State Supreme Court Opinions as Law Development, 11 J. App. Prac. & Process 105 (2010). The supervisory power plays an active part in supporting this duty. It serves as a tool to provide more control over what a high court decides and when it decides it.

First, courts rely on the power to reach the merits in cases—a necessary part of doctrinal development. Courts can sua sponte reach cases not presently before them by transferring suits pending in lower courts,115See, e.g., State v. Davis, 493 N.W.2d 820 (Iowa 1992); Norelli v. Sec’y of State, 292 A.3d 458 (N.H. 2022). as well as reach issues not fully developed or raised by parties once a case reaches their docket.116See, e.g., Unwired Telecom Corp. v. Parish of Calcasieu, 903 So.2d 392 (La. 2005); In re Fortieth Statewide Investigating Grand Jury, 191 A.3d 750, 754 (Pa. 2018); Blumberg Assocs. Worldwide, Inc. v. Brown & Brown of Conn., Inc., 84 A.3d 840 (Conn. 2014). Additionally, the supervisory power overrides many of the conventional limitations on judicial power and party presentation that may limit judicial review and thus limit a court’s ability to guide state law.

For example, supreme courts from Alabama to Hawaii have said traditional standing and mootness rules do not limit the court’s supervisory power, meaning they can resolve an otherwise nonjusticiable case.117Ex parte State ex rel. Ala. Pol’y Inst., 200 So.3d 495, 498 (Ala. 2015), abrogated by Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (2015); Ball v. Chapman, 289 A.3d 1 (Pa. 2023); State v. Moniz, 742 P.2d 373 (Haw. 1987); GHP Horwath, P.C. v. Kazazian, 543 P.3d 1035, 1050 ¶ 65 (Colo. 2024). At least one court has said explicitly that stare decisis does not attach to the court’s supervisory authority;118In re Kading, 235 N.W.2d 409, 414 (Wis. 1975) (“If this power were strictly limited to the situations in which it was previously applied, it would cease to be superintending, since this word definitely contemplates ongoing, continuing supervision in response to changing needs and circumstances.”). others have implied as much.119See, e.g., Mellor v. Parish of Jefferson, 370 So.3d 388 (La. 2023); In re N.J. Rules of Ct., Part VII, Guideline 4 (N.J. Feb. 23, 2024) (order), available at https://www.njcourts.gov/sites/default/files/notices/2024/02/n240226a.pdf?cb=d1e5a648 [https://perma.cc/EJ5E-TX55]. In several states, supreme courts have said their supervisory power exceeds the boundaries of subject-matter jurisdiction.120See, e.g., State v. Milner, 72 A.3d 1068, 1073 (Conn. 2013); People v. Max, 198 P. 150, 152 (Colo. 1921). Despite the traditional rule that “[o]ne who is not a party to an action . . . is not entitled to appeal from the judgment of a lower court,” the supreme courts of Iowa and North Carolina have relied on their supervisory power to review appeals filed by non-parties to the underlying suit.121See, e.g., State v. McKinney, 756 N.W.2d 678 (Iowa 2008); In re Brownlee, 272 S.E.2d 861, 869–71 (N.C. 1981) (allowing appeal by nonparty). The high courts in several states have said filings are not necessary to invoke the supervisory power.122Republican Party of Ark. v. Kilgore, 98 S.W.3d 798, 801 (Ark. 2002); McDunn v. Williams, 620 N.E.2d 385, 414 (Ill. 1993); see also infra notes 192–196. Nor are cases that lack a statutory or constitutional basis for review necessarily beyond a court’s reach.123See, e.g., Max, 198 P. at 152 (noting that the court has the “right” and “duty” to review the case “[i]rrespective of whether [it] is now before us on review or under our original jurisdiction, or neither, . . . by virtue of” the court’s supervisory power); Eichelberger v. Eichelberger, 582 S.W.2d 395, 398 (Tex. 1979) (recognizing the supreme court’s inherent appellate jurisdiction); Eighner v. Tiernan, 184 N.E.3d 194, 202 (Ill. 2021); People v. Salem, 47 N.E.3d 997, 1004 (Ill. 2016); Jordan v. Reed, 544 P.2d 75, 79 (Alaska 1975).

Once a case is before a supreme court, various party presentation requirements, like issue preservation, can narrow the scope of judicial review, limiting the reach of a court’s intervention. However, the supervisory power can override these rules as well.124State v. Hewett, 154 S.E.2d 476, 478 (N.C. 1967); Rivera v. Cataldo, 537 P.3d 1167, 1171 (Haw. 2023) (reaching finality in class action brought by indigenous people); Ex parte State of Ala. Dep’t of Revenue, 993 So. 2d 898, 900-01 (Ala. 2008) (See, J., concurring); Blumberg Assocs. Worldwide, Inc. v. Brown & Brown of Conn., Inc., 84 A.3d 840, 872–78 (Conn. 2014); In re Est. of Funk, 849 N.E.2d 366, 403 (Ill. 2006); State v. Elson, 91 A.3d 862. (Conn. 2014). Moreover, courts suspend customary finality requirements, which often exclude certain cases from appellate review until they have reached some level of resolution, enabling courts to reach the underlying merits sooner than they otherwise would.125Nygaard v. Taylor, 900 N.W.2d 833, 836 (N.D. 2017) (invoking supervisory power to hear appeal of interlocutory order otherwise not appealable by statute because it “is an issue of vital concern regarding matters of important public interest”); Ex parte Averyt, 487 So. 2d 912, 913–14 (Ala. 1986). The supervisory power can also override standards of review, a more subtle

feature of judicial review, like applying a plain error standard but not requiring a showing of prejudice.126In re Carl S., 510 P.3d 486, 488 (Alaska 2022).

Second, courts use their supervisory authority to develop the underlying substance of the law. Supervisory decisions not only presage state constitutional decisions; they set an analytical foundation to help frame the underlying right or value. For example, over a series of decisions, Alaska’s Supreme Court used its supervisory power to sketch a variety of procedures to protect witnesses who are compelled to testify.127Surina v. Buckalew, 629 P.2d 969 (Alaska 1981); State v. Serdahely, 635 P.2d 1182 (Alaska 1981) (per curiam). In the cases, the court balanced the state’s prosecutorial interests with the risk that compelled testimony may expose the witness to criminal liability. In a third case, the court held that a subsequently enacted statute providing a form of compelled testimony violated the state constitution’s Fifth Amendment analogue, reasoning it exceeded the prior boundaries set out by the court’s supervisory power.128See State v. Gonzalez, 853 P.2d 526 (Alaska 1993). The court “piece[d] together” its prior supervisory decisions to provide the “scope” of the state constitution’s right against self-incrimination.129Id. at 530. In these cases, courts draw on the rules, frameworks, values, and policies developed under the supervisory power to, as Chief Judge Judith Kaye put it, “nourish” the state constitution.130See, e.g., Grinols v. State, 74 P.3d 889, 894 (Alaska 2003). Cf. Judith S. Kaye, Foreword: The Common Law and State Constitutional Law as Full Partners in the Protection of Individual Rights, 23 Rutgers L.J. 727, 743 (1992) (discussing the interplay between state constitutions and the common law). This law development feature extends outside the courtroom. In some instances, supervisory decisions are codified into formal court rules, legislation, or constitutional amendments. For example, across multiple cases and several years, Connecticut’s high court relied on its supervisory authority to reduce the effects of racial bias in the use of peremptory strikes. See, e.g., State v. Rigual, 771 A.2d 939 (Conn. 2001); State v. Patterson, 645 A.2d 535 (Conn. 1994); State v. Holloway, 553 A.2d 166 (Conn. 1989). See also Frampton & Osowski, supra note 9, at 14; Rigual, 771 A.2d at 943 (extending Holloway to apply to all peremptory strikes, which arguably eliminated peremptory strikes in practice). The accumulation of these decisions served as the foundation for the court’s ultimate decision to convene a task force to recommend reforms to the judiciary’s peremptory rule, which were ultimately codified in a court rule by the state’s judicial council. See Connecticut Practice Book § 5–12 (2025). See also Connecticut Judicial Branch, Report of the Jury Selection Task Force to Chief Justice Richard A. Robinson (2020), https://jud.ct.gov/Committees/jury_taskforce/ReportJurySelectionTaskForce.pdf [https://perma.cc/DJZ7-83Z3].

Finally, the supervisory power can help supreme courts assert more control over how they decide an issue. Specifically, its highly flexible nature and lack of traditional limitations allow courts to resolve issues temporarily, until internal or external factors provide the basis for a more permanent resting place, like a constitutional decision, amendment, or statute. For example, in cases raising novel questions of federal constitutional rights, courts have recognized that the U.S. Supreme Court has not yet decided the issue and instead used their supervisory power to address the challenged conduct until the U.S. Supreme Court reaches it.131See, e.g., State v. Medrano, 65 A.3d 503, 532 (Conn. 2013) (recognizing a “nationwide split” among lower federal courts over a question concerning the Fifth Amendment and instead addressing the issue via the supervisory power); Commonwealth v. Phelps, 301 A.2d 678, 679 (Pa. 1973) (addressing a question of federal due process via the supervisory power after noting that the U.S. Supreme Court has not yet had a chance to address it); State v. Deatore, 358 A.2d 163, 170 (N.J. 1976) (noting that the U.S. Supreme Court has not yet reached the issue and the lower federal courts are in “disarray”); State v. Hartley, 511 A.2d 80, 97–98 (N.J. 1986) (similar). In instances where legislation is pending or would be preferred, supervisory authority can act as a placeholder until a relevant statute or regulation is enacted.132See, e.g., People v. Lemcke, 486 P.3d 1077, 1095 (Cal. 2021) (addressing a flaw in jury instructions via supervisory power but referring the question to the Judicial Council and its Advisory Committee on Criminal Jury Instructions—a policymaking body “comprised of jurists, scholars and practitioners specializing in criminal law”—for a permanent fix); State v. Skipwith, 165 A.3d 1211, 1222 (Conn. 2017) (McDonald, J., concurring) (arguing the court should have relied on its supervisory authority to fashion a temporary procedure to implement state constitution’s victims’ rights provisions until the legislature issued its own version via statute).

This feature of the supervisory authority has an intersystemic aspect as well. The power can provide stability for state law in the face of federal doctrinal churn. For instance, when a line of U.S. Supreme Court case law is less than clear, state high courts may develop a variety of interpretations before the U.S. Supreme Court finally clarifies the underlying rules. That clarification may reveal that a state’s interpretation was wrong, requiring a change in the law on the books in that state.133See, e.g., People v. Jimenez, 580 P.2d 672, 679 (Cal. 1978), overruled on other grounds by People v. Cahill, 853 P.2d 1037 (Cal. 1993). In these instances, some courts have chosen to retain their interpretation but as a matter of their supervisory authority rather than the relevant provision of the U.S. Constitution.134Jimenez, 580 P.2d at 679 (relying on the supervisory power to ensure the “continuity . . . [of state] law on this issue”). Alternatively, where a state high court has lockstepped the state constitution and the U.S. Supreme Court has “repudiate[d]” the underlying federal rule, some state courts have chosen to resolve the issue temporarily under the supervisory power to decide at a later date whether they wish to retain the old rule under the state constitution or re-yoke it to the U.S. Supreme Court’s new one.135See, e.g., State v. Polanco, 61 A.3d 1084, 1087 (Conn. 2013).

iii.  Interbranch Engagement

Some state supreme courts rely on the supervisory power to facilitate another institutional responsibility—engaging with other branches. This includes both collaboration and resistance. In both circumstances, the supervisory power serves as a flexible tool for courts to combine the expertise and interests of each branch and to more easily navigate inevitable frictions.

When collaborating with other branches, courts often develop policies that affect both the judiciary and the state’s legal system writ large.136See, e.g., Hans A. Linde, Observations of a State Court Judge, in Judges and Legislators: Toward Institutional Comity 117–22 (Robert A. Katzmann ed., 1988) (offering perspectives on inter-branch relations as a justice of the Oregon Supreme Court). The supervisory power’s open-ended nature helpfully provides a way to adapt and implement the interests, expertise, and views of the branches to the situation.137See Ellen A. Peters, Capacity and Respect: A Perspective on the Historic Role of the State Courts in the Federal System, 73 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1065, 1071 (1998) (noting as Connecticut’s chief justice, that “[g]oing the route of supervisory authority leaves more flexibility for further input from all the interested constituencies”). For example, the Arkansas Supreme Court’s supervisory power was central to its collaboration with the other branches in revising the state’s criminal code.138In re Ark. Crim. Code Revision Comm’n, 530 S.W.2d 672 (Ark. 1975) (per curiam). It relied on the authority to enact a revised set of procedural rules based on input from a commission consisting of representatives from all three branches, the bar, academy, and activists.139Id.

Collaboration might include operationalizing a broad policy objective announced by another branch as well. For example, during the COVID-19 pandemic, New Jersey’s governor issued an executive order allowing certain prisoners to apply for early release in light of certain health risks.140In re Request to Modify Prison Sentences, 231 A.3d 667, 673 (N.J. 2020). The issue came to the court via original petition from the public defender’s office and ACLU. Id. Invoking its supervisory power to implement the policy, the court crafted a “framework” and expedited procedure that marshalled judicial resources to effectuate the order while balancing due process considerations.141Id. at 672.

The power can also help courts navigate interbranch tension, especially when it implicates the courts themselves. As with examples of cooperation, the supervisory power’s flexibility enables courts to tailor context-specific rules. For example, in response to a series of decisions from executive agencies perceived as coercive to the court system, the Delaware Supreme Court relied on its supervisory authority to hold that executive agencies do not have jurisdiction over judicial branch labor disputes (unlike public employee unions in other branches).142Super. Ct. v. State, Pub. Emp. Rels. Bd., 988 A.2d 429, 431 (Del. 2010). For more on the role of the supervisory power in inter-branch labor disputes, see Stumpf, supra note 94, at 54. Following a gubernatorial veto of judicial salary increases some considered necessary, Illinois’s high court used its supervisory power to invalidate the executive action and set aside procedural defects to enforce a lower court’s order requiring an increase in appropriations.143See Weems v. App. Ct., 992 N.E.2d 1228 (Ill. 2012); Jorgensen v. Blagojevich, 811 N.E.2d 652 (Ill. 2004).

iv. Oversight

Finally, all state supreme courts, through individual justices, the chief justice, or an administrative office, are responsible for administering the judicial branch.144See Buenger & De Muniz, supra note 48, at 169. Though this Article is focused on uses of the supervisory power beyond its quotidian administrative applications, some courts have taken notably expansive views of their oversight responsibilities and their judiciary’s overall workload that are worth considering.

For example, the Arkansas Supreme Court has relied on its supervisory power to appoint an “independent consultant” to audit and recommend solutions to address chronic backlog in lower court districts.145In re Phillips Cnty., 2013 Ark. 55 (2013). In response to a constitutional amendment providing California’s lower courts with “unlimited” habeas corpus jurisdiction, the California Supreme Court promulgated a filing procedure to avoid confusion stemming from overlapping jurisdiction that would ensure an efficient and “equitable” case flow.146In re Roberts, 115 P.3d 1121, 1132 (Cal. 2005), modified (Aug. 24, 2005). While these examples may seem routine on their face, the courts’ explanations for their choices center “important considerations of public policy” and other normative values. In that sense, these brief examples illustrate additional ways state high courts use their supervisory power to operationalize notions of the general welfare within the proper administration of justice.

Complex litigation is another example where supreme courts rely on their supervisory power to manage systemwide workload and where choice and values can enter the decision. These uses of the power often resemble federal multidistrict litigation practice but are ad hoc and based purely on a supreme court’s discretionary evaluation of what is best in a particular situation for the judiciary, litigants, and public.147See, e.g., In re Okla. Breast Implant Cases, 847 P.2d 772 (Okla. 1993); In re Att’y Gen. L. Enf’t Directive Nos. 2020-5 & 2020-6, 252 A.3d 135 (N.J. 2021). See also Zachary D. Clopton & D. Theodore Rave, MDL in the States, 115 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1649, 1660–62 (2021) (collecting other examples).

Here, too, supreme courts have used this oversight aspect of the supervisory power to achieve normative ends through the active management of such mass litigation. For example, at a time when Philadelphia’s trial courts had among the largest asbestos dockets in the country, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court used its supervisory power to consolidate almost 2,000 cases and order all pending matters to proceed immediately to a nonjury trial.148Pittsburgh Corning Corp. v. Bradley, 453 A.2d 314 (Pa. 1982). At the heart of the court’s decision was its emphasis on achieving “timely justice.”149Id. at 317. Similarly, Colorado’s high court coordinated a spate of water law cases in a single trial court and promulgated an ad hoc procedure to resolve them as efficiently as possible.150Se. Colo. Water Conservancy Dist. v. Huston, 593 P.2d 1347 (Colo. 1979). Cf. Pamela K. Bookman & David L. Noll, Ad Hoc Procedure, 92 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 767, 826–45 (2017) (recognizing the virtue of ad hoc procedure when used as a means of addressing unforeseeable procedural problems in pursuit of substantively just outcomes). Animating the court’s order was its recognition that it is an integral part of the state’s lawmaking apparatus and that the complex cases could frustrate its ability to contribute to state water policy by overloading judicial resources.151See Huston, 593 P.2d at 1350–51.

Beyond control over courts and global workload, the oversight function of the supervisory power includes control over judges, too. This use of the supervisory power is distinct from formal disciplinary proceedings.152See, e.g., In re Merlo, 17 A.3d 869, 871 (Pa. 2011) (elaborating on the distinction). Supreme courts rely on the power to ensure individual members of the judiciary are properly “administ[ering] justice” and comporting themselves with the high court’s conception of fairness and equality.153See, e.g., Horn v. Rincker, 417 N.E.2d 1329, 1334 (Ill. 1981); Robinson v. Robinson, 237 S.W.2d 20, 22 (Ark. 1951). Thus, race-conscious jury assignments that violate notions of equality, wielding judicial power in a way that is “oppressive and improper,” and presiding over cases in ways that fail to meet the supreme court’s quality standards are the kinds of conduct supreme courts rein in with their supervisory power.154See, e.g., People v. Burgener, 62 P.3d 1, 23 (Cal. 2003), modified (Apr. 9, 2003); In re Judges of Mun. Ct. of City of Cedar Rapids, 130 N.W.2d 553 (Iowa 1964); Williams v. City of Valdez, 603 P.2d 483, 491–92 (Alaska 1979); Robinson, 237 S.W.2d at 22.

b. Non-adjudicative

As judges and commentators have long observed of the federal courts, they are “reactive” institutions that lack a “self-starter,” meaning the judicial power requires “someone outside of the judicial system” to initiate it.155Walter F. Murphy & Joseph Tanenhaus, The Study of Public Law 65–66 (1972) (quoting Justice Robert H. Jackson); Marc Galanter, The Radiating Effects of Courts, in Empirical Theories About Courts 117, 122 (Keith O. Boyum & Lynn Mather eds., 1983).

To be sure, the U.S. Supreme Court can and does set its own agenda by signaling an appetite for certain kinds of cases to external actors, selecting cases that advance their interests, and defining the questions presented to help ensure particular outcomes.156The literature on this point is voluminous. See, e.g., Lawrence Baum, Case Selection and Decisionmaking in the U.S. Supreme Court, 27 L. & Soc’y Rev. 443 (1993); Tonja Jacobi, The Judicial Signaling Game: How Judges Shape Their Dockets, 16 Sup. Ct. Econ. Rev. 1 (2008). These instances of judicial choice constitute a form of policymaking but nevertheless are still limited by the Court’s reactive design.157See Tom R. Tyler & Gregory Mitchell, Legitimacy and the Empowerment of Discretionary Legal Authority: The United States Supreme Court and Abortion Rights, 43 Duke L.J. 703, 732 n.98 (1994). Indeed, as Martin Shapiro and Alec Stone Sweet put it, “litigants activate” the Court, which, in turn, defines the “parameters” for how it impacts law and policy.158Martin Shapiro & Alec Stone Sweet, On Law, Politics, And Judicialization 293 (2002).

Along these lines, state supreme courts operate very differently. Relevant to this Article, wielding their supervisory power is not necessarily contingent on a litigant invoking the judicial machinery. Rather, state supreme courts can and do proactively use their supervisory power to craft policy, contribute to state governance, engage with other branches, protect their institutional prerogatives, and promote their own conception of the general welfare. It is this proactive nature of the supervisory power that enables state supreme courts to serve as more than a passive policymaker, as with their federal counterpart, but instead an active agent in state governance.159While this claim shares some thematic overlap with Jerry Dickinson’s theory of “judicial laboratories,” they are distinguishable on a conceptual level. See Gerald S. Dickinson, Judicial Laboratories, 27 U. Pa. J. Const. L. 75 (2025) He borrows from Justice Brandeis’s famous metaphor casting state legislatures as laboratories. Dickinson’s illuminating account seems to suggest we reframe state high courts as more like legislatures than federal courts. See, e.g., id. at 108 (“[S]tate courts have a ‘democratic pedigree’ that federal courts do not, and thus have fundamentally different roles and purposes that appear more akin to legislators than federal judges”); see also id. at 81–128 (arguing “state courts should be understood and recognized as ‘judicial laboratories of democracy’ that primarily serve and function as political, policymaking and democratic agents akin to state legislatures”). This account perhaps unnecessarily cedes conceptual ground to the federal judiciary. In contrast, at the core of this Article is the notion that state supreme courts are distinctive from their federal counterpart and yet still best understood as courts, thus advancing a more pluralist conception of the institution. Indeed, as discussed in the Introduction, this Article is in service of a broader project to understand state courts on their own terms. See supra notes 18–21 and accompanying text; see also Sopko, supra note 100, at 161. In this way, the Article’s framing of state high courts as agents of governance is based on an account of state high courts as such.

i. Policymaking for the General Welfare

In addition to the reactive applications above, supreme courts can and do use their supervisory authority as a proactive policymaking mechanism. Specifically, it serves as a source of power that enables courts to advance particular normative ideals and contribute to a state’s general welfare based on its evaluation of what is necessary. Consider some recent examples.

Fines and fees. The supervisory power played an important role in reducing or eliminating the imposition of fees and fines. While the issue is not new, the pernicious effects and racial disparities caused by over-reliance on such penalties and obligations attracted renewed attention in 2014 after a police officer killed Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.160Jane S. Schacter, Glimpses of Representation-Reinforcement in State Courts, 36 Const. Comment. 349, 367 (2021). The U.S. Department of Justice’s subsequent investigation and report drew a national spotlight on the ways in which some courts and local governments use fees and fines as revenue generators.161See Civ. Rights Div., U.S. Dep’t of Just., Investigation of the Ferguson Police Department (2015). https://www.justice.gov/sites/default/files/opa/press-releases/attachments/2015/03/04/ferguson_police_department_report.pdf [https://perma.cc/Y3R3-XNST]. In response to evidence showing the race and class implications of such policies, several state supreme courts used their supervisory powers to rethink the role of these penalties, with a more just judiciary serving as their North Star.162See Schacter, supra note 160, at 367–76; Christopher D. Hampson, Note, State Bans on Debtors’ Prisons and Criminal Justice Debt, 129 Harv. L. Rev. 1024, 1030 (2016).

For example, after reviewing a report from a committee tasked with studying the impacts of court fees, the New Jersey Supreme Court invoked its supervisory authority to dismiss nearly 900,000 outstanding municipal cases and over $7 million in fines.163Nat. Ctr. for State Cts., Reforms to Criminal Fines and Fees Case Study: New Jersey (2024), https://www.ncsc.org/__data/assets/pdf_file/0033/99690/FFP-Case-Study-New-Jersey-Final.pdf [https://perma.cc/G3LC-V9NJ]. It also narrowed the circumstances in which judges can impose fees and capped permissible amounts.164See Colleen O’Dea, Municipal Courts too Quick to Levy Fines and Need Major Reforms — Report, N.J. Spotlight News (July 18, 2018), https://www.njspotlightnews.org/2018/07/18-07-17-municipal-courts-too-quick-to-levy-fines-need-other-reforms-report [https://perma.cc/ZQC2-BVDC]. The court’s actions were driven by its conception of a just court system: one that does not allow local governments to use the judiciary as a means of extraction.165See, e.g., Kala Kachmar, NJ Chief Justice: Stop Turning Municipal Courts into Moneymakers, Asbury Park Press (Apr. 18, 2018), https://www.app.com/story/news/investigations/watchdog/investigations/2018/04/17/nj-chief-justice-acknowledges-money-making-municipal-court-practices/525400002/#:~:text=More%20than%20a%20year%20after,disturbing%22%20and%20%22troubling.%22 [https://perma.cc/V2AU-BG3U]. New Jersey was not alone—high courts in Illinois, Kentucky, Michigan, and Virginia, used their supervisory power to make similar changes to their respective court systems.166See Schacter, supra note 160, at 373.

Housing moratoria. Another recent example arose during the COVID-19 pandemic, which, in addition to the public health crisis, prompted significant social and economic instability nationwide.167See generally, e.g., Vicente Javier Clemente-Suárez, Eduardo Navarro-Jiménez, Libertad Moreno-Luna, María Concepción Saavedra-Serrano, Manuel Jimenez, Juan Antonio Simón & Jose Francisco Tornero-Aguilera, The Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic on Social, Health, and Economy, 13 Sustainability (2021). Among the myriad effects of these shocks was housing security. Indeed, a policy challenge that government at all levels faced during the pandemic was how to balance the public health impacts of mass displacement with the economic considerations flowing from the significant job and wage losses across the country.168See, e.g., Emily A. Benfer, Robert Koehler, Alyx Mark, Valerie Nazzaro, Anne Kat Alexander, Peter Hepburn, Danya E. Keene & Matthew Desmond, COVID-19 Housing Policy: State and Federal Eviction Moratoria and Supportive Measures in the United States During the Pandemic, 33 Housing Pol’y Debate 1390, 1392–93 (2022). During this period, state actors enacted a “largely unprecedented” set of housing policies to try and manage the crisis.169Id. at 1391. State supreme courts, it turns out, played a proactive role, using their supervisory authority to initiate and shape these policies.170See, e.g., Anne Kat Alexander, Residential Eviction and Public Housing: Covid-19 and Beyond, 18 Ind. Health L. Rev. 243, 255–56 (2021).

The most common form of housing policy interventions were eviction moratoria, where supreme courts would severely limit, or prohibit entirely, court-ordered evictions. As with most state-level policy responses, interventions varied. Court-imposed moratoria differed in duration, scope, and reach.171See Benfer et al., supra note 168, at 1399–1404. Courts also framed the underlying issue differently in their orders—a feature of the supervisory power. For some, their order defined the issue as eviction itself, whereas for others, courts saw themselves as wielding their supervisory power to help limit larger social issues, like homelessness and the continued spread of COVID-19.172Compare, e.g., In re Fifth Order Modifying and Extending Declaration of Judicial Emergency in Response to COVID-19 Emergency, https://www.vacourts.gov/news/items/covid/2020_0608_scv_amendment_to_fifth_order.pdf, and Order Declaring Statewide Judicial Emergency (Amended), GA. SUP. CT. (Mar. 14, 2020), https://www.gasupreme.us/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/CJ-Melton-amended-Statewide-Jud-Emergency-order.pdf with, e.g., S.C., Statewide Evictions and Foreclosures, 2020-03-18-01 (Mar. 18, 2020), https://www.sccourts.org/courtOrders/displayOrder.cfm?orderNo=2020-03-18-01%5Bhttps://perma.cc/6UZA-TM66%5D, and Tennessee, Eviction Lab, https://evictionlab.org/covid-policy-scorecard/tn/ (last visited Aug. 1, 2024). For example, the South Carolina Supreme Court suspended all pending and future evictions for a period of months in recognition of the “difficulties,” like “housing insecurity and homelessness,” the pandemic would cause “individuals.”173Statewide Evictions and Foreclosures, supra note 176. Tennessee’s high court prohibited all judiciary personnel from “tak[ing] any action to effectuate an eviction . . . based upon the failure to make a rent, loan, or other

similar payment,” due to “the increasing economic issues caused by this pandemic.”174See Tennessee, supra note 176.

In addition to moratoria, supreme courts also crafted policies and procedures that modified or supplemented their existing eviction processes. Supreme courts in Michigan and New Jersey, for instance, instituted diversionary policies requiring landlords and tenants to attempt settlement before an eviction action could be filed.175See Karen Merrill Tjapkes & Ashley Lowe, COVID-19 Eviction Crisis: Large-Scale Development of Eviction Diversion Programs in Michigan, Mich. Bar J. (Nov. 2021), https://www.michbar.org/journal/Details/COVID-19-eviction-crisis-Large-scale-development-of-eviction-diversion-programs-in-Michigan?ArticleID=4268#:~:text=Legal%20services%20programs%2C%20recognizing%20the,the%20money%20owed%20to%20them [https://perma.cc/M4UG-B8W9]; New Jersey Launches Eviction Diversion and Legal Services Program for Low-Income Households at Risk of Eviction, Nat. Low Income Housing Coat. (July 10, 2023) https://nlihc.org/resource/new-jersey-launches-eviction-diversion-and-legal-services-program-low-income-households#:~:text=The%20Eviction%20Diversion%20Initiative%2C%20which,to%20cover%20past%20due%20rental [https://perma.cc/7L5T-MME4] (discussing the supreme court’s creation of a diversion program during the pandemic). Notably, the courts here were not reactively deciding disputes between parties, but were instead proactively issuing policies to try and limit the perceived social and economic effects of a crisis affecting the state.176To be sure, this discussion is not to suggest that these interventions were successful or a net benefit to the populace. In fact, preliminary research suggests the results were mixed. See, e.g., Lauren Sudeall, Elora Lee Raymond & Philip M. E. Garboden, Disaster Discordance: Local Court Implementation of State and Federal Eviction Prevention Policies During the Covid-19 Pandemic, 30 Geo. J. on Poverty L. & Pol’y 545, 558–60 (2023). Instead, these examples are offered to highlight the ways in which state high courts wield their power and the institutional insights we can draw from that practice.

Problem-solving courts. The instances above are more recent examples of the ways through which state supreme courts have affirmatively used their supervisory power to contribute to state governance. Another use along these lines, perhaps with a longer pedigree, is the creation of problem-solving courts.177Recognizing the literature draws distinctions between specialty, problem-solving, and “status” courts, I refer to them collectively here as problem-solving courts, as supreme courts can create all three under their supervisory authority. See generally Erin R. Collins, Status Courts, 105 Geo. L.J. 1481 (2017) (discussing the distinctions). Supreme courts use their supervisory authority to create specialized dockets, procedures to manage them, and groups of judges to

hear the cases, all within the existing judicial infrastructure.178See, e.g., Judith S. Kaye, Delivering Justice Today: A Problem-Solving Approach, 22 Yale L. & Pol’y Rev. 125, 151 (2004); Candace McCoy, Commentary, The Politics of Problem-Solving: An Overview of the Origins and Development of Therapeutic Courts, 40 Am. Crim. L. Rev. 1513, 1513–17 (2003). These choices are made “outside the crucible of litigation.”179Michael C. Pollack, Courts Beyond Judging, 46 BYU L. Rev. 719, 728 (2021); Judith S. Kaye, Problem-Solving Courts: Keynote Address, 29 Fordham Urb. L.J. 1925, 1928 (2002) (“Problem-solving courts are a significant departure from our traditional adversarial model for case dispositions.”).

Like the examples above, specialty courts are another way supreme courts are addressing issues they perceive as important and using their supervisory power to fashion responses.180See Collins, supra note 181, at 1488–89. Indeed, specialty courts originated as a judicial policy solution to increasing rates of recidivism among drug offenders and spikes in incarceration rates from a turn to tough-on-crime politics. As a former Chief Judge of New York’s judiciary explained, these courts enable judiciaries to affect a “quiet revolution” to give victims and communities “enhanced safety and a greater voice” and a way for the judiciary to meaningfully contribute to society without “simply proliferating legal process.”181Kaye, supra note 183, at 1928. Supreme courts across the country have created and manage specialty courts that touch on a range of issues, from homelessness to guns, to mental health and opioids. It is not the existence of these courts that makes them notable, but the discretion available to state supreme courts to conceptualize and experiment with solutions to address issues they foresee as necessitating interventions to benefit the state’s health, safety, and general welfare.182See Jessica K. Steinberg, A Theory of Civil Problem-Solving Courts, 93 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1579, 1584 (2018) (offering a theory of problem-solving courts as “as proactive institutions responsible for the pursuit of socially beneficial outcomes”); cf. supra note 180 and accompanying text.

ii. Interbranch Engagement

In addition to serving as a source of affirmative policymaking, the supervisory power provides a way for supreme courts to engage with other actors outside of litigation. Here, it provides a tool for courts to advance desirable policies and pursue institutional interests.

A common application along these lines was discussed above—courts craft ad hoc rules and procedures that influence the investigative and prosecutorial discretion of state executive branch officers.183See supra notes 98–104 and accompanying text. But as we know, state courts operate in a federal system, and so we should expect interactions with the federal government as well. Indeed, some courts have

relied on their supervisory power to affect the scope of federal executive authority.

For example, during the Trump administration, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (“ICE”) officers significantly increased their presence in state courthouses, arresting people coming to court as defendants or witnesses in cases unrelated to immigration.184See Douglas Keith, States Push Back Against ICE Courthouse Arrests, Brennan Ctr. for Just. (Nov. 22, 2019), https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/states-push-back-against-ice-courthouse-arrests [https://perma.cc/6NHE-TTVP]. Relevant here, ICE typically relies on “administrative” warrants, which are not reviewed by a neutral party to determine if it is based on probable cause.185See Lindsay Nash, Deportation Arrest Warrants, 73 Stan. L. Rev. 433, 436 n.2, 437 (2021). Contemporaneous studies of this dramatic change in federal policy showed the increased threat of immigration enforcement had a chilling effect on state legal systems, preventing “immigrants from reporting crimes and participating in court proceedings.”186Press Release, New ACLU Report Shows Fear of Deportation is Deterring Immigrants from Reporting Crimes, ACLU (May 3, 2018 11:45 AM), https://www.aclu.org/press-releases/new-aclu-report-shows-fear-deportation-deterring-immigrants-reporting-crimes [https://perma.cc/H8T2-BA2A]; Am. Civ. Liberties Union, Freezing Out Justice: How Immigration Arrests At Courthouses Are Undermining The Justice System (2018), https://www.aclu.org/publications/freezing-out-justice [https://perma.cc/2LSJ-RYZY]; Immigrant Def. Project, Safeguarding the Integrity of Our Courts: The Impact of ICE Courthouse Operations in New York State (2019), https://www.immigrantdefenseproject.org/wp-content/uploads/Safeguarding-the-Integrity-of-Our-Courts-Final-Report.pdf.

Several state supreme courts, particularly in blue states, responded by enacting new policies pursuant to their oversight of their state’s court system. For example, the Oregon Supreme Court promulgated a rule that required a heightened showing from ICE in order to make an arrest within or around Oregon courthouses. The high courts in Connecticut, New York, and Washington enacted similar policies for their respective court systems.187N.Y. Unified Ct. Sys. Off. of the Chief Admin. Judge, Directive 1-2019 (Apr. 3, 2019), https://www.immigrantdefenseproject.org/wp-content/uploads/OCA-ICE-Directive.pdf.

Moving beyond the executive branch, high courts can and do use their supervisory authority as a defense against perceived incursions from the legislature or to assert their prerogatives over the coordinate branch.

Consider letters of address. These are formal letters issued by state high courts to coordinate branches that provide legal analysis of pending legislation or possible executive action.188These letters are typically included in case reporters as published decisions as well. See, e.g., In re 1976 PA 267, 255 N.W.2d 635 (Mich. 1977); In re 42 Pa.C.S. § 1703, 394 A.2d 444 (1978). In some sense, they are like advisory opinions. However, they differ in at least one important respect—advisory opinions typically require a request from another branch, whereas letters of address are issued sua sponte. For example, the Michigan Supreme Court has sent several letters to coordinate branches, as far back as the nineteenth century, noting that pending or recently enacted legislation was unlawful.189In re 1976 PA 267, 255 N.W.2d 635 (Mich. 1977); In re Court of Appeals, 125 N.W.2d 719, 719-20 (Mich. 1964); Matter of Head Notes to Opinions, 8 N.W. 552 (Mich. 1881). Pennsylvania’s Supreme Court issued a similar letter intended to “mak[e] [their] views known” that the state constitution prohibited application of state public records laws to supreme court rulemaking procedures.190In re 42 Pa.C.S. § 1703, 394 A.2d 444, 446 (Pa. 1978). Notably, a “member of the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania” sought a writ of mandamus from the U.S. Supreme Court ordering the state high court to vacate its letter because it violated the Fourteenth Amendment. Petition for a Writ of Mandamus, Kubert v. Supreme Ct. of Pa., 440 U.S. 905, (1979) (No. 78-1038), https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/DW0109869485/SCRB?u=wisc_madison&sid=bookmark-SCRB&xid=84fd7f02&pg=4. Petitioner’s theory was that the state court violated due process in sua sponte issuing a decision that invalidated a statute. His theory turned on the assumption that the judicial power does not extend beyond “adjudicate[ion].” Id. at 5–6 (citing Marbury v. Madison, 1 Cranch 137 (1803)). The U.S. Supreme Court denied the petition without elaboration. Kubert, 440 U.S. 905. Maine’s Supreme Judicial Court provided advice that pending legislation purporting to require cameras in courtrooms was unlawful.191In re Chapter 515, Pub. Laws of 1985, 12 Media L. Rep. 2067 (Me. 1986). And Massachusetts’s Supreme Judicial Court issued guidance sua sponte concluding various statutes reclassifying certain members of judiciary staff as part of the executive branch were constitutional.192First Just. of Bristol Div. of Juv. Ct. Dep’t v. Clerk-Magistrate of Bristol Div. of Juv. Ct. Dep’t, 780 N.E.2d 908, 912 n.3 (Mass. 2003).

These examples illustrate ways supreme courts can use their supervisory authority to affirmatively engage with other branches, but the key insight is that the supervisory power enhances their ability to act affirmatively. This feature has two notable benefits. It increases their independence, since courts need not wait for a proper case challenging a coordinate branch’s actions that threatens judicial prerogatives. And it can minimize the “risk [of] creating and prolonging unnecessary tension between [the] branches of government.”193See, e.g., First Just. of Bristol, 780 N.E.2d at 912; In re 42 Pa. C. S. § 1703, 394 A.2d at 446. This feature may be especially useful where the underlying intrusion does not incentivize or readily warrant litigation from parties but nevertheless creates separation-of-powers concerns. See Jeffrey A. Parness, Correspondence, Public Process and State-Court Rulemaking, 88 Yale L.J. 1319 (1979). However, such actions can raise political costs for the judiciary. See, e.g., Dan Packel, Pa. Justices Won’t Force Legislature to Fund Court System, Law360 (Sept. 26, 2012, 7:59 PM), https://www.law360.com/articles/381962/pa-justices-won-t-force-legislature-to-fund-court-system [https://perma.cc/M286-F6L6].

But it is the supervisory power that creates opportunities for supreme courts to consider and weigh these factors against their institutional interests and possibly act free from the confines of litigation.194See, e.g., In re Sunshine L., 255 N.W.2d at 636 (“It is our opinion that 1976 PA 267 is an impermissible intrusion into the most basic day-to-day exercise of the constitutionally derived judicial powers.”); In re 42 Pa. C. S. § 1703, 394 A.2d at 449–51.

  1. Attributes

The prior Section explored various ways in which state courts rely on their supervisory power. Turning from the how to the what, the discussion below examines the nature of the supervisory power by reviewing its key attributes.

a. Freestanding

The supervisory power functions as a freestanding source of judicial authority.195See, e.g., In re Avellino, 690 A.2d 1138, 1140 (Pa. 1997); State ex rel. CityDeck Landing LLC v. Circuit Ct. for Brown Cnty., 922 N.W.2d 832, 842–43 (Wis. 2019); Ingram v. Oneok, Inc., 775 P.2d 810, 812 (Okla. 1989); Archer v. State, 859 A.2d 210, 229 (Md. 2004). See also Pfander, supra note 12, at 1524–25. It is distinct from conventional aspects of state judicial power, like judicial review and common lawmaking, as well as more distinctive manifestations, like attorney discipline. This has implications on the scope and availability of a court’s authority.

First, because supervision spans a court’s adjudicative and non-adjudicative authority, the power is not limited by a supreme court’s jurisdiction.196See supra note 125 (collecting cases). In other words, when a court’s administrative or operational interests are implicated, their power is not constrained by the various jurisdictional or procedural defects that might otherwise foreclose review.197See supra notes 187–198 and accompanying text. This includes doctrines like stare decisis, justiciability, waiver, and so on. See supra note 114–135 and accompanying text. Many of these doctrines can be waived or suspended when courts are resolving issues that implicate the public interest, as well. See, e.g., Miriam Seifter & Adam B. Sopko, Standing for Elections in State Court, 2024 U. Ill. L. Rev. 1571, 1586 n.147 (discussing the public-interest exception to standing in state courts). Second, because the power is freestanding and constitutionally based, it means the supervisory power cannot be narrowed by statute.198See, e.g., Ex parte State ex rel. Alabama Pol’y Inst., 200 So. 3d 495, 498 (Ala. 2015); Super. Ct. v. State, Pub. Emp. Rels. Bd., 988 A.2d 429, 431 (Del. 2010); Order re Guideline IV, supra note 119. This claim warrants some additional qualifications. As discussed in detail above, supra Section I.A, forty-seven states have located their supervisory power in their state constitution. In those states, the relationship between the legislative and supervisory powers is relatively straight forward—when they conflict, the latter prevails. The remaining three states are less clear on this question. However, even in Massachusetts, for example, where the high court seemingly leans most heavily on a statutory source for its supervisory power, the Supreme Judicial Court has suggested in dicta that in at least some instances its supervisory authority is superior to legislative action. See, e.g., First Just. of Bristol Div. of Juv. Ct. Dep’t v. Clerk-Magistrate of Bristol Div. of Juv. Ct. Dep’t, 780 N.E.2d 908, 916 (Mass. 2003). Courts have signaled a general interest in approaching such conflicts on a case-by-case basis, especially in states where the high court has yet to definitively sketch the exact source and contours of the power, like in Massachusetts, North Dakota, and Oregon. See, e.g., State ex rel N. Dakota Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs. v. State, 5 N.W.3d 547, 549 (N.D. 2024), reh’g denied (Apr. 24, 2024). As I explain in detail below, this question implicates the supervisory power’s operative boundaries, which I term the “zone of supervision.” See infra Section III.A1. As a result, while the supervisory power is generally superior to conflicting legislation, it depends on the metes and bounds of a court’s zone of supervision. But see Bruce Ledewitz, What’s Really Wrong with the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, 32 Duq. L. Rev. 409, 421 (1994) (offering a somewhat contradictory account of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court’s supervisory power).

b. Lower Showing Needed

In some states, supreme courts have has conditioned supervisory relief on a certain showing of prejudice, not unlike ordinary judicial review.199See supra notes 201–205 and accompanying text. But see State v. Larrabee, 321 P.3d 1136, 1154 n.12 (Utah 2013) (Lee, J., dissenting) (arguing that the court’s supervisory power “falls outside the bounds of adversary proceedings” and thus is “disconnected from [the court’s] judicial power to decide cases”). However, because it is a separate power, some courts have required litigants to make a showing to warrant relief that is correspondingly different from that needed to prevail on a constitutional or statutory claim.200See, e.g., State v. Ceballos, 832 A.2d 14, 42–43 (Conn. 2003); Galauska v. State, 532 P.2d 1017, 1019 (Alaska 1975) (Boochever, J., dissenting).

   [1].     See, e.g., Ceballos, 832 A.2d at 42–43; State v. Mattatall, 219 A.3d 1288, 1293–94 (R.I. 2019); State v. Clark, 752 S.E.2d 907, 922–23 (W.Va. 2013).
When invoking their supervisory power, the interests implicated go beyond just the rights of the individual litigant but encompass the court system’s prerogatives, as well.201See infra notes 288–294. Additionally, unlike a constitutional claim, courts often use the supervisory power to modify or create new procedures or policies rather than invalidate statutes, further altering the institutional interests at stake in litigation.202See, e.g., Galauska, 532 P.2d at 1019 (Boochever, J., dissenting).

c. Discretionary

The power is also entirely discretionary.203See, e.g., Dobbins, supra note 94 at 417 (describing the power as “an almost pure expression of a court’s exercise of discretion”). To be sure, some courts have devised standards that purport to cabin its availability, but such decisions are purely a product of choice. For example, they ask whether the underlying issue presents an “extraordinary circumstance,”204Strawn v. Merchants Mortg. & Tr. Corp., 605 P.2d 51, 53 (Colo. 1980). is “sufficiently compelling,”205Commonwealth v. Carman, 455 S.W.3d 916, 924 (Ky. 2015). or “serves the interests of judicial economy.”206Mellor v. Parish of Jefferson, 370 So.3d 388, 391 (La. 2023). Others lack a standard along these lines but instead describe use of the power as rare or infrequent to suggest there’s a presumption against its use.207See, e.g., Sopko, supra note 19, at 1479–81 (collecting citations). But these standards are judicially imposed and courts rarely explain why a given case rises or fails to meet these thresholds.208See, e.g., State v. Marquez, 967 A.2d 56, 84 (Conn. 2009); Averhart v. State, 614 N.E.2d 924, 934 (Ind. 1993). Additionally, some courts have significantly increased their use of the supervisory power, notwithstanding

continued adherence to such presumptions, as in Connecticut, Illinois, and Montana.209See, e.g., In re Yasiel R., 120 A.3d 1188, 1208 (Conn. 2015) (Espinosa, J., dissenting) (“Today’s decision exemplifies the routine manner in which this court invokes its supervisory authority of late.”); Wauconda Fire Prot. Dist. v. Stonewall Orchards, 828 N.E.2d 216, 233 (Ill. 2005) (“It is true that we have previously issued opinions pursuant to our supervisory authority. However, until today, this step has only been taken in the most extraordinary circumstances requiring our supervision over the court system.” (citation and emphasis omitted)); Howell, supra note 60, at 58–71 (describing the Montana Supreme Court’s expansion of its supervisory power).

More often, courts decline to provide any kind of standard governing their supervisory power or explicitly refer to it as a choice.210See, e.g., State ex rel. Universal Processing Servs. of Wis., LLC v. Circuit Ct. of Milwaukee Cnty., 892 N.W.2d 267, 279 (Wis. 2017). The structural guardrails that ordinarily cabin discretion are similarly absent. Considerations like text, precedent, and parties’ arguments that generally impose some guidance—even if minimal—on courts in the adjudicative context are not implicated.211Cf. Amy Coney Barrett, Procedural Common Law, 94 Va. L. Rev. 813, 823 (2008). The discretionary nature of the power is especially acute in the non-adjudicative context, as courts need not wait for a party or litigant to initiate it, thus removing one of the strongest limits on judicial power.212See, e.g., Galanter, supra note 155, at 117, 122; Shapiro & Stone Sweet, supra note 158, at 293.

d. Flexible

In addition to its discretionary nature, a hallmark of the supervisory power is its flexibility.213See, e.g., Unwired Telecom Corp. v. Parish of Calcasieu, 903 So.2d 392, 400 (La. 2005). This manifests in two respects. First, rather than a fixed set of applications or possible contexts in which the power might apply, courts typically see it as open ended. The supervisory power is primarily a tool that enables the supreme court to address whatever needs arise in its responsibilities overseeing the judiciary. Those needs often result from unpredictable external factors, like a once-in-a-generation pandemic or a national recession.214See, e.g., supra notes 171–180 and accompanying text; Ted Z. Robertson & Christa Brown, Judiciary’s Inherent Power to Compel Funding: A Tale of Heating Stoves and Air Conditioners, 20 St. Mary’s L.J. 863, 868–73 (1989). Thus, the power must necessarily be sufficiently adaptable. Relatedly, the supervisory authority maintains the integrity of a court system and ensures the proper administration of justice. This objective similarly requires a certain level of flexibility, as injustice can come in many forms.215Cf. Dobbins, supra note 94, at 455.

Second, the underlying doctrine generated by the supervisory power is supple.216See, e.g., In Int. of M.D., 921 N.W.2d 229, 246 (Iowa 2018), as amended (Mar. 5, 2019) (Christensen, J., concurring). Conventional constitutional analysis is generally quite rigid; the permanence of constitutional rules, additional factors like precedent and methodological commitments, and the specter of U.S. Supreme Court review can lead to quite wooden forms of decision-making.217See Shirley S. Abrahamson, Criminal Law and State Constitutions: The Emergence of State Constitutional Law, 63 Tex. L. Rev. 1141, 1165 (1985) (contrasting the strictures imposed by a constitutional decision with a comparable decision under a supreme court’s supervisory power). Supervisory decisions, in contrast, are explicitly understood by state high courts as closer to generic understandings of policymaking than mechanical application of existing law to fact.218See, e.g., State v. Gordon, 913 P.2d 350, 353 (Utah 1996); In re Jerrell C.J., 699 N.W.2d 110, 120 (Wis. 2005); State v. Ledbetter, 881 A.2d 290 (Conn. 2005). Justices have confirmed as much publicly, see, e.g., Abrahamson, supra note 217, at 1165; Peters, supra note 137, at 1071, as well as in private conversations I had with current and former members of several high courts in the course of researching this project. They explicitly consist of interest balancing and weighing various considerations, some of which may be absent from the underlying case.219See, e.g., State v. Pouncey, 699 A.2d 901, 907–09 (Conn. 1997); State v. Pineda, 13 A.3d 623, 638–40 (R.I. 2011); Roman v. State, 570 P.2d 1235, 1242–44 (Alaska 1977); Hess v. State, 536 P.2d 366, 368 (Okla. Crim. App. 1975). Further, these decisions are often—though not always220See, e.g., In re Yasiel R., 120 A.3d 1188, 1197–1202 (Conn. 2015); State v. Garcia, 29 P.3d 919, 923, 933 (Hawaii 2001).—applied prospectively, which further blunts the force of precedent, minimizes the cost of overruling, and offers courts the lawmaking latitude “comparable to that of legislatures.”221Garcia, 29 P.3d at 927.

However, despite its highly flexible nature, the supervisory power is not without bite. Though the U.S. Supreme Court has never invalidated a statute under its supervisory power,222See Barrett, supra note 12, at 373. such a result is not uncommon among state supreme courts.223See, e.g., In re Bell, 344 S.W.3d 304, 314 (Tenn. 2011); Kremer v. State Ethics Comm’n, 469 A.2d 593 (Pa. 1983); State v. Duncan, 264 S.E.2d 421, 423 (S.C. 1980); Idaho Jud. Council v. Becker, 834 P.2d 290, 293 (Idaho 1992); Charles Toutant, ‘Not Losing Sleep’: Judges Won’t Enforce This Law in Their Courtrooms, N.J. L.J. (Feb. 21, 2024, 3:15 PM), https://www.law.com/njlawjournal/2024/02/21/not-losing-sleep-judges-wont-enforce-this-law-in-their-courtrooms [https://perma.cc/4ZTJ-N8AZ]; see also Super. Ct. v. State, Pub. Emp. Rels. Bd., 988 A.2d 429, 431 (Del. 2010); supra notes 193–198. This is not inconsistent with the claim made above concerning legislative override of the power, see supra note 205 and accompanying text, which referred to statutes narrowing the supervisory power. The discussion here concerns high courts affirmatively invalidating statutes as inconsistent with their supervisory authority. Additionally, not only have state high courts narrowed the discretion of executive and legislative actors; they have also forced state actors to take discretionary action, like ordering the legislature to appropriate a specific amount of funding.224See, e.g., Allegheny Cnty. v. Commonwealth, 534 A.2d 760, 765 (Pa. 1987). This stands in contrast to a writ of mandamus, which orders government actors to take ministerial—i.e., non-discretionary—action. E.g., Doherty v. Caisley, 470 N.E.2d 319, 323 (Ill. 1984) (discussing the differences). As such, the open-ended nature of the power does not necessarily dilute its potency.

e. Normative in Nature

Orders and decisions issued under a supreme court’s supervisory authority are explicitly subjective in their content. To be sure, this is not to say they are arbitrary. Quite the opposite—decisions are often highly evaluative of the underlying needs of the judiciary, the state’s larger legal system, and, in some instances, the population writ large. Courts may draw on various sources of facts, policy, science, and so on, to inform their decision.225See, e.g., State v. Green, 216 A.3d 104, 114 (N.J. 2019). But paired with its highly discretionary nature and few formal constraints, it is in this sense that the supervisory power is predominantly a means for courts to operationalize normative or subjective views of the state’s law and policy. The underlying premise of decision-making pursuant to the supervisory power is not what a prior case, statute, or other sources provide to address a given issue. Instead, courts start from a place that’s closer to first principles and ask what they “should” do.226State v. Ramseur, 524 A.2d 188, 295 (N.J. 1987) (O’Hern, J., concurring); Roman v. State, 570 P.2d 1235, 1243–44 (Alaska 1977); People v. Coleman, 533 P.2d 1024, 1041–47 (Cal. 1975); State v. Shaw, 227 A.3d 279, 289-90 (N.J. 2020); Pleasant Grove City v. Terry, 478 P.3d 1026, 1040–42 (Utah 2020); Lavallee v. Justs. in Hampden Super. Ct., 812 N.E.2d 895, 906–12 (Mass. 2004).

  ***

The discussion thus far has shown that the state supervisory power came as a result of broader state-level governmental reforms that elevated the political status of state judiciaries, expanded their role in governance, and enhanced their power. This Part has demonstrated that the power is a discretionary, flexible, standalone form of judicial authority that increases the capacity of courts and overrides many of the traditional limits on their power. Courts have used their supervisory power beyond the day-to-day management of the judiciary to enhance remedies, strengthen rights, and navigate interbranch relations.

To expand our understanding of the state supervisory power, we should also consider its federal counterpart. That comparison shows that the state supervisory authority is more expansive, potent, and legitimate. It raises important normative implications for how we evaluate this aspect of state

judicial practice and challenges some institutional assumptions concerning state high courts. I elaborate on these implications in Part IV.

B. U.S. Supreme Court Supervisory Power

Similar to state courts, the U.S. Supreme Court’s supervisory authority refers to powers that enable it to oversee the federal judiciary’s operations “in order to preserve the integrity of judicial processes.”227Matthew E. Brady, A Separation of Powers Approach to the Supervisory Power of the Federal Courts, 34 Stan. L. Rev. 427, 427 n.2 (1982). However, as shown below, the federal high court’s supervisory power is narrower, significantly more limited, and generally considered an illegitimate feature of federal practice. Thus, the key takeaway from this brief comparison is that while state and federal supervisory powers share common elements, the former is a distinctive feature of state court practice.

  1. Comparison

Looking at the Court’s use of the power as a whole, it largely falls along two tracks—ad hoc rulemaking and remedial enhancement.228One additional feature bears mention here. While the Court did invoke its supervisory power in civil cases, the overwhelming majority of its applications were in criminal matters. See, e.g., Beale, supra note 12, at 1433. This is one additional feature that distinguishes it from state high courts, which are less substantively limited in using the power.

Cases fall along the first track when relevant procedural, statutory, or constitutional sources come up short.229The Court’s decision in Castro v. United States, 540 U.S. 375 (2003), demonstrates this point. There, it recognized no statute nor constitutional right required district court judges to inform litigants as to the effects of recharacterizing an improperly filed motion as a habeas petition but still held as much under its supervisory power based on notions of proper administration and existing practice among most federal circuits. Id. at 382–83. When the Court perceives an omission in relevant statutes or rules of procedure that affects the “quality” or proper functioning of federal litigation, it uses its supervisory power to address it.230See Alfred Hill, The Bill of Rights and the Supervisory Power, 69 Colum. L. Rev. 181, 195–96 (1969). On the second track, the Court uses its supervisory power as an auxiliary form of remedial authority to execute statutory and constitutional policies. In these cases, the Court perceives that the existing enforcement mechanism fails to sufficiently implement a statute’s underlying objective or constitutional right’s core values, then uses the supervisory power to span the remedial gap. These features of the Court’s supervisory power are similar to the applications discussed in Part II.A—state high courts use their own authority along the same lines.231See supra Section II.A.

The federal supervisory power is also flexible, consisting largely of balancing by the justices. Some scholars have described it as “procedural common law” or “procedural lawmaking.”232Barrett, supra note 12, at 332; Hill, supra note 235, at 194. Others have referred to supervisory decisions as “essentially legislative” in that the Court’s reasoning is more akin to policymaking than legal analysis.233Hill, supra note 235, at 214; see also, e.g., Young v. United States ex rel. Vuitton Et Fils S.A., 481 U.S. 787, 803–09 (1987) (plurality opinion); Roviaro v. United States, 353 U.S. 53, 60–61 (1957); Jencks v. United States, 353 U.S. 657, 666–72 (1957). This, too, parallels the state supervisory power.234See supra Section II.A.2.

Despite these similarities, there are significant differences between state and federal supervisory powers. Notably, the Court’s own power is limited to adjudication, unlike its state counterparts. Further, when it crafts ad hoc rules, the protections they afford litigants rarely exceed existing Constitutional limits—i.e., federal supervisory rules seldom offer more protection than the Constitution.235Arguably the Court’s highwater mark was Elkins v. United States, 364 U.S. 206 (1960), where the Court broke with decades of precedent upholding the silver-platter doctrine and prohibited the use of evidence in federal courts that was obtained by state officials in violation of the Fourth Amendment. Elkins presaged the Court’s decision in Mapp v. Ohio just one year later, where it incorporated the exclusionary rule against the states through the Fourteenth Amendment. Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U.S. 643, 656–57 (1961). Indeed, “[a] number of the supervisory power decisions had constitutional overtones, and several of the decisions later anticipated constitutional rulings.” Beale, supra note 12, at 1451. Mapp is largely considered to be the starting point of the Warren Court’s criminal procedure “revolution.” See generally, e.g., Yale Kamisar, Mapp v. Ohio: The First Shot Fired in the Warren Court’s Criminal Procedure ‘Revolution’, in Criminal Procedure Stories 46 (Steiker ed., 2006); Michael Vitiello, Introducing the Warren Court’s Criminal Procedure Revolution: A 50-Year Retrospective, 51 U. Pac. L. Rev. 621, 621 (2020); Dr. Donald F. Tibbs, The Start of a Revolution: Mapp v. Ohio and The Warren Court’s Fourth Amendment Case That Almost Wasn’t, 49 Stetson L. Rev. 499, 500 (2020). This is notable because the Court’s significant expansion of constitutional rights during this period is understood to have capped its development of the supervisory power. Green, supra note 12, at 257. And the Court has never invalidated a statute with its supervisory power. In these ways, it is fair to say that the U.S. Supreme Court’s supervisory authority is narrower and less potent than its state-level alternative.

  1. Judicial Administration and Constitutional Structure

The differences between the state and federal powers can primarily be explained by structural features of the state and Federal Constitutions and their respective judiciaries.

As discussed in Part I, state court systems evolved into a unified model, placing the supreme court as the administrative head of the courts and centralizing in the high court operational powers and responsibilities. The federal courts followed a different path. Federal court reformers, like William Taft, pursued a decentralized design. While the Supreme Court is the highest court of the judiciary, administrative and operational responsibility is diffused across a vast network of judicial agencies.236Jonathan Petkun & Joseph Schottenfeld, The Judicial Administrative Power, 93 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 349, 353 (2025). To be sure, state judiciaries have developed their own internal administrative apparatuses and attendant practices and processes—a development some scholars have termed the “managerial turn” in state judicial administration. See David Freeman Engstrom, David Marcus & Elliot Setzer, Managerial Courts, 135 Yale L.J. (forthcoming 2025) (manuscript on file with author). Even with such developments, though, supreme courts or chief justices generally retain ultimate decisional power over administration, even if they choose to delegate some of that authority to subsidiary or external entity (e.g., bar associaton). See generally Alyx Mark, Courts Unmasked Civil Legal System Reform and COVID-19 (2025) (studying such delegations during and after the pandemic).

For example, the Judicial Panel on Multidistrict Litigation both consolidates complex civil cases in a single trial court for pretrial proceedings and fashions rules that govern relevant procedures.237See 28 U.S.C. § 1407. The Administrative Office for the federal courts oversees the judiciary’s pretrial supervision and probation services for criminal defendants.238Probation and Pretrial Services History, U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/services-forms/probation-and-pretrial-services/probation-and-pretrial-services-history [https://perma.cc/ZQ8R-ALEG]. The Judicial Conference serves as the courts’ primary policymaking arm, developing policies to implement the myriad statutes governing the federal courts, as well as advising Congress on the federal judiciary’s needs and interests.239Judith Resnik & Lane Dilg, Responding to a Democratic Deficit: Limiting the Powers and the Term of the Chief Justice of the United States, 154 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1575, 1599–1608 (2006). Together, they create a constellation of supervision. Thus, whereas supreme courts administer state judiciaries, the federal court system is administered by the federal judiciary.240Compare, e.g., supra Section I.B, with, e.g., supra notes 244–247 and accompanying text. To be sure, some have suggested the Supreme Court’s shadow docket can operate as an extension of its supervisory practice. Andrew Hammond, The D.C. Circuit as a Conseil d’Etat, 61 Harv. J. Legis. 81, 129–31 (2024). To the extent the shadow docket is functionally an extension of the Court’s supervisory authority, a prior study on its state-level counterpart has shown the scope and reach of state high court shadow dockets are sufficiently more expansive as to differ in kind from the U.S. Supreme Court’s. See generally Sopko, supra note 22.

Further, unlike state courts, the administrative power of the federal courts is almost entirely statutory.241Petkun & Schottenfeld, supra note 236, at 356–63 (discussing Congress’s role in crafting the federal judicial power); supra Section I.A.3. This structural distinction raises institutional considerations as to the scope of the power courts wield and the source of the prerogatives behind it. Since the various judicial agencies are creatures of statute, many of the first-order policy choices are made by Congress rather than the Supreme Court.242See Petkun & Schottenfeld, supra note 236, at 374 (describing Congress’s delegation of pretrial detention and probation services to the federal courts); Judith Resnik, Trial As Error, Jurisdiction As Injury: Transforming the Meaning of Article III, 113 Harv. L. Rev. 924, 1011–15 (2000). Contra supra note 236. Even where Congress delegates broad discretion to the judiciary, it is wielded by a vast bureaucratic apparatus, rather than a single decision-making institution.243Petkun & Schottenfeld, supra note 236, at 353. To be sure, the Chief Justice wields a significant amount of influence over this system, but the underlying structure is sufficiently decentralized as to allow for inter-agency conflicts and even for agencies to countermand the Chief Justice’s own prerogatives.244See, e.g., Robert Schmidt, A Turf War Over Training Judges, Legal Times, Sept. 29, 1997, at 1 (describing a “turf” battle between the Federal Judicial Center and the Administrative Office); Linda Greenhouse, Vote Is a Rebuff for Chief Justice, N.Y. Times (Mar. 15, 1990) at A16, https://www.nytimes.com/1990/03/15/us/vote-is-a-rebuff-for-chief-justice.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20150525200242/https://www.nytimes.com/1990/03/15/us/vote-is-a-rebuff-for-chief-justice.html] (reporting that the Judicial Conference modified proposals originally drafted at the Chief Justice’s direction to undermine his primary policy goal of limiting habeas corpus). In these ways, the structural distinctions between how state and federal courts are administered plays a substantial part in the scope of the supervisory authority available to the respective high courts.

Constitutional structure similarly contributes to the differences between the state and federal supervisory powers. The source of the federal supervisory power is contested in the literature,245Charles M. Yablon, Inherent Judicial Authority: A Study in Creative Ambiguity, 43 Cardozo L. Rev. 1035, 1094 (2022) (suggesting the power is inherent); Pfander, Marbury, supra note 12, at 1602–03 (arguing it necessarily flows from the Court’s position as the highest court in the federal system); Pushaw, supra note 12, at 866 (same); see also Benjamin H. Barton, An Article I Theory of the Inherent Powers of the Federal Courts, 61 Cath. U. L. Rev. 1, 32–38 (2012) (locating the supervisory power in both statutory grants of authority as well as its place on the judicial hierarchy). But see Beale, supra note 12, at 1477–78 (rejecting statutory sources). but the federal government can only exercise those powers provided for by the Constitution, and scholars generally agree, whatever its source, that Article III significantly limits its scope.246See, e.g., Pushaw, supra note 12, at 844; Beale, supra note 12, at 1465–73. Broad uses of the supervisory power is said to exceed these limits by providing the justices with a “freestanding” source of policymaking authority that enables them to resolve disputes based on normative assessments of justice and fairness, rather than a statute or constitutional provision. In other words, sketching public policy, crafting the suite of remedies available for violations, and determining the methods of enforcement are all issues that fall to nonjudicial branches. State constitutions, in contrast, limit and distribute powers rather than grant them, and as discussed in Part I, modern government reform allocated greater policymaking responsibilities to supreme courts and created the supervisory power as one of their primary tools to do so.

In sum, the U.S. Supreme Court has a supervisory power that shares several features with its state counterpart. It is flexible and has largely served as a source of policymaking power to craft ad hoc procedural rules and enhance remedies. However, the two differ meaningfully. The federal power is both rarely used and narrower in scope.247Gershman, supra note 20, at 47; supra Section II.B.1. It is limited to adjudication, rarely afforded parties the level of relief seen in state courts, and never served as the basis to invalidate a statute. These distinctions are largely products of the fact that state constitutions generally allocate more administrative policymaking power to state courts than their federal counterpart and that power is centralized in state supreme courts whereas in the federal judiciary it’s diffused across a host of actors.

III.  Boundaries and Limits

The discussion thus far has described the supervisory power of state supreme courts and connected this feature of state court practice to the institutional development of modern state judicial systems. That analysis defends the broader uses of the power reviewed in Part II as both institutionally and constitutionally grounded. But this Article’s thesis is a qualified rather than wholesale defense of the practice. This Part thus considers the supervisory power’s limitations. As Part II showed, the supervisory authority’s applications are vast and the power itself quite discretionary. To account for this breadth and ambiguity, this Part proposes a model it terms the zone of supervision to sketch the supervisory power’s boundaries. It then discusses how state constitutional structure provides tools to sanction courts when they cross them.

A. Boundaries

This Section sketches the supervisory power’s metes and bounds through a model that both explains prior uses of the power and helps frame how courts might use it in the future.

The model relies on two variables drawn from the descriptive and institutional accounts above: the legalness of the underlying issue and its proximity to judiciary interests. Together, the variables create a two-dimensional space this Article refers to as the zone of supervision, which represents the idealized conception of the supervisory power. This perimeter demarcates the scope of a court’s supervisory power. Uses that fall outside the scope should be viewed with skepticism. Section III.B explores the various sanctions available when a court does wield its power beyond its zone of supervision. But first, this Section unpacks the model by exploring its two variables.

  1. Legalness

Legalness here refers to the nature of the underlying issue or intended application.248I borrow this term from the extensive literature on norms and the nature of rules. See, e.g., M.P. Golding, The Morality of Law by Lon L. Fuller, 76 Ethics 225, 226 (1966) (reviewing Lon L. Fuller, The Morality of Law (1964)) (referring to “legalness” as determined by the context in which a rule is made based on a system’s various sources of law-making); Robert E. Scott, The Limits of Behavioral Theories of Law and Social Norms, 86 Va. L. Rev. 1603, 1630 n.59 (2000) (describing “legal-ness” as capturing a rule’s underlying nature, source, and force); cf. Frederick Schauer, Institutions and the Concept of Law: A Reply to Ronald Dworkin (With Some Help From Neil MacCormick) 11 (Univ. Va. L. Sch. Pub. L. & L. Theory Working Paper Series, Working Paper No. 129, 2009) (referring to the legal properties of an institution’s identity as its “legal-ness”). Based on this attribute, supreme courts may consider the supervisory power to be appropriate or ill-suited to addressing the question. In this context, legalness falls along a spectrum. The spectrum turns on the informal nature of the supervisory power and the fact that it overlaps with other forms of judicial authority. On the one end are applications of the power that are insufficiently legal or too policy-like. At the other end are applications that are too legal.

State high courts consider applications of the supervisory power as too policy-like when they implicate a multitude of competing interests and lack a basis to weigh them, or have multiple potential resolutions without clear criterion to evaluate them. For example, when asked to impose a requirement that jurors in a criminal proceeding identify their race before voir dire, the Connecticut Supreme Court declined, explaining that the central issue—the interaction between the ways jurors self-identify with the perceptions of prosecutors—was too complex.249State v. Raynor, 221 A.3d 401 (Conn. 2019). Iowa’s high court similarly refused to craft a rule under its supervisory power to require certain probation proceedings precede related criminal trials, explaining that such a rule implicates sufficiently complex questions of public safety best left to the legislature.250State v. Wahlert, 379 N.W.2d 10, 14 (Iowa 1985). See also supra notes 160–182 and accompanying text.

At the other end of the spectrum are applications that are too “legal,” meaning courts decline to exercise their supervisory power because the issue calls for a more formal or durable source of power.251See, e.g., Reynolds v. Super. Ct., 528 P.2d 45 (Cal. 1974) (declining to craft a prohibition on reciprocal discovery under the supervisory power because it implicates too many constitutional rights, both state and federal, and is best reviewed as such); State v. Higgins, 826 A.2d 1126, 1144 (Conn. 2003) (refusing to hold the supervisory power bars application of transferred intent to support conviction of crime more serious than the one intended because that is a “substantive” question). For example, North Carolina’s supreme court declined to use the supervisory power to reach the merits of an as-applied challenge to a statute in a consolidated case because it was appealed before any record development in the individual actions.252State ex rel. Edminsten v. Tucker, 323 S.E.2d 294 (N.C. 1984). And Kansas’s high court refused to use its supervisory power to issue ad hoc relief, reasoning the precise remedy sought already existed in a statute.253State v. Gray, 403 P.3d 1220, 1227 (Kan. 2017) (noting that the court “need not consider” suppression under the supervisory authority because it was provided for by state statute); accord Bauguess v. Paine, 586 P.2d 942 (Cal. 1978) (reaching a similar conclusion but in the context of attorneys’ fees policies).

  1. Proximity to the Judiciary

The supervisory authority’s purpose as a power supreme courts wield to oversee and manage the judicial branch serves as a boundary as well. Application of the supervisory power is sensitive to its relative proximity to the judiciary and its responsibility overseeing a state’s justice system.254See, e.g., Gershman, supra note 20, at 64–97. That is not to say the supervisory power is limited to contexts that only concern the judiciary, but it is to suggest that there must be a sufficient nexus between the policy or relief sought pursuant to the supervisory authority and judiciary operations and its interests.255See, e.g., Dobbins, supra note 94, at 422–29.

On one end is high proximity to the judiciary. While comparatively rare, there may be some contexts where supreme courts might see their intervention as unwarranted or inappropriate. This arises in areas where lower court discretion is typically expected, like decisions related to appointing counsel, courtroom management, contempt orders, and so on.256Of course, this is not a hard-and-fast description. Any given exercise of discretion by a trial court could necessitate intervention for abuse or violation of certain rights. Instead, what I am referring to here is the use of supervisory power in a categorical fashion. See, e.g., Dobbins v. State, 845 N.W.2d 148, 156 (Minn. 2013) (declining to create a freestanding “prophylactic requirement” concerning trial court process for appointing counsel because such requirement would intrude on a matter committed “to the discretion of the trial court”). But for the most part, situations with a significant nexus to judicial operations or interests will warrant use of the supervisory power.257See, e.g., In re Domitrovich, 257 A.3d 702, 715 (Pa. 2021) (invoking supervisory power sua sponte because the underlying operational issue was central to the judiciary’s integrity); Idaho Jud. Council v. Becker, 834 P.2d 290 (Idaho 1992) (similar); see also Joseph v. Scranton Times L.P., 987 A.2d 633 (Pa. 2009); Travelers Indem. Co. v. Bd. of Trustees of Univ. Ark., 646 S.W.3d 361, 366 (Ark. 2022) (invoking supervisory power to review an issue not properly presented because it turned on a local trial court’s COVID-19 vaccination policy); GHP Horwath, P.C. v. Kazazian, 543 P.3d 1035, 1050–53 (Colo. 2024) (crafting a pro se filing rules based on judiciary workload); Horn v. Rincker, 417 N.E.2d 1329 (Ill. 1981) (transferring and consolidating cases based on considerations of fairness and judiciary workload).

On the other end are issues that are too remote from the judiciary’s interests or administration. As the relationship between the judiciary’s interest in the proper administration of justice and responsibility for operations and the sought-after relief grows more attenuated, supervisory power is considered less appropriate. For example, crafting evidentiary rules or rules of criminal procedure is closer to the judiciary than announcing a rule under the supervisory power that would directly control law enforcement conduct.258See, e.g., Commonwealth v. Thomas, 68 N.E.3d 1161, 1168 (Mass. 2017) (declining to use the supervisory authority to craft a new process for eyewitness identification procedures because the power “does not extend to law enforcement agencies”); State v. Marquez, 967 A.2d 56, 84 (Conn. 2009) (similar). And sketching rules concerning public access to internal records for a component of the judiciary differs materially from an agency that is constitutionally separate.259Compare, e.g., Comm’n on Jud. Discipline & Disability v. Digby, 792 S.W.2d 594 (Ark. 1990) (declining to exercise supervisory power over the Commission on Judicial Discipline & Disability because it is constitutionally separate from the judiciary), with, e.g., In re Bennett, 871 S.E.2d 445(Va. 2022) (noting that the supervisory power reaches questions of records within the judiciary).

As noted, both variables—legalness and proximity to the judiciary—exist on spectrums. Bringing them together, we can see a sweet spot where the supervisory power is best suited or most appropriate. This Article terms the area the zone of supervision. It is in this space that courts should wield their supervisory power. Applications that fall outside its contours should presumptively be viewed as overreach. Figure 2 below serves as an illustration.

Two points of clarification are warranted. First, this model is not based on fixed points. In fact, the variables are contingent. As discussed in Part II, the power is highly discretionary and flexible. This adaptability allows courts to frame applications of the power in different ways that may place it within or beyond the zone of supervision.

Figure 2.  Zone of Supervision

For example, consider again the pandemic eviction moratoria. Suppose two courts issue moratoria that are identical in every way except the reasons for them. Court A says it is invoking its supervisory power because it feels that the potential harms to unhoused people during a historic pandemic outweigh the economic harms to landlords. Court B explains that due to social distancing requirements, the number of cases the judiciary can process is significantly reduced and that it must prioritize criminal cases, custody disputes, and domestic violence hearings over eviction proceedings due to speedy trial requirements and liberty interests. The outcomes under either framing are essentially the same—no eviction proceedings—but one might reasonably think Court B’s moratorium is closer to the heart of its zone of supervision.

These choices reflect a linkage between how courts frame applications of the power and their understanding of the specific contours of their zone of supervision. To a certain extent, this is to be expected, as the contextual

nature of a given supreme court’s power is well documented in the literature.260See, e.g., Mary Cornelia Aldis Porter & G. Alan Tarr, State Supreme Courts in State and Nation 60–63 (1990); Harry P. Stumpf & John H. Culver, The Politics of State Courts 6–8 (David J. Estrin ed, 1992); Laura Langer, Judicial Review in State Supreme Courts: A Comparative Study 40 (2002); Buenger & De Muniz, supra note 48, at 9–19. Indeed, interstate variation is not uncommon.

For example, consider how state high courts divided over a rule requiring law enforcement to record custodial interviews. Several courts considered the issue under state and Federal Constitutions as well as the supervisory power and split on the question.

The high courts in Minnesota, New Hampshire, New Jersey, and Wisconsin, for instance, understood the question to be well within the bounds of their supervisory powers’ zone of supervision, as it implicated their duty “to take all appropriate measures to ensure the fair and proper administration of a criminal trial.”261State v. Scales, 518 N.W.2d 587, 592 (Minn. 1994); State v. Barnett, 789 A.2d 629, 632 (N.H. 2001); State v. Cook, 847 A.2d 530 (N.J. 2004); In re Jerrell C.J., 699 N.W.2d 110, 121 (Wis. 2005). For the supreme courts of Connecticut, Kentucky, Maryland, and Vermont, though, the issue neither raised a constitutional question nor was it appropriate for supervisory relief and was thus best suited for the legislature.262See State v. Lockhart, 4 A.3d 1176, 1199–1200 (Conn. 2010) (“Although we do have supervisory authority over the administration of justice, . . . we believe that the legislature is better suited to gather and assess the facts necessary to establishing a recording requirement, [thus] we defer to this branch.”); Brashars v. Com., 25 S.W.3d 58, 63 (Ky. 2000) (similar); Baynor v. State, 736 A.2d 325, 332 (Md. 1999) (similar); State v. Gorton, 548 A.2d 419, 422 (Vt. 1988) (“The most appropriate means of prescribing rules to augment citizens’ due process rights is through legislation.”). There are other examples,263Consider other examples,such as the propriety of allowing testimony from a parole revocation hearing at trial for the charges that prompted the revocation. Iowa’s supreme court noted neither the state nor federal constitutions were implicated, and the issue was ill-suited to the supervisory power due to the complex interests implicated by such a rule and that it was best left to the legislature. State v. Wahlert, 379 N.W.2d 10, 14 (Iowa 1985). But for several other states, the issue fell squarely in the zone of supervision, as it implicated the fairness and integrity of the judicial system and necessitated a careful balancing of interests, as the courts feared permitting convictions where the state used the revocation hearing purely as an investigatory tool to prove its case in the subsequent trial. See, e.g., McCracken v. Corey, 612 P.2d 990 (Alaska 1980); People v. Coleman, People v. Coleman, 533 P.2d 1024, 1024 (Cal. 1975); State v. Hass, 268 N.W.2d 456, 460 (N.D. 1978); State v. DeLomba, 370 A.2d 1273 (R.I. 1977); State v. Evans, 252 N.W.2d 664 (Wis. 1977). We have seen a similar dynamic with eyewitness identification procedures. According to Connecticut’s high court, “[t]he circumstances surrounding the various identification procedures present too many variables” for the supervisory power and is best suited to legislative revision. State v. Marquez, 967 A.2d 56, 84 (Conn. 2009). But for the supreme courts in Alaska and New Jersey, the issue was one of admissibility of evidence and whether current rules properly protected defendants’ rights and supported a fair criminal justice system and thus was well-suited to their supervisory role over criminal trials. See Young v. State, 374 P.3d 395, 412–13 (Alaska 2016); State v. Henderson, 27 A.3d 872, 909 (N.J. 2011). and they

each illustrate how the variables within the model sketched above are not fixed across states but, due to the nature of the doctrine, are quite fluid.

Second, when an application of the supervisory power falls outside of the zone of supervision, it does not mean such a use of judicial power is inappropriate or illegitimate. Developing a rule or framework may be well within the court’s power—but just not its supervisory authority. For example, a court may determine requiring custodial interrogation of juvenile suspects is outside its zone of supervision, but it is required by the state constitution’s due process clause or a provision of a relevant statute.264See, e.g., State v. Zuffante, No. SCWC-23-0000376, 2025 WL 2659155 (Haw. Sept. 17, 2025) (holding that interrogation is required under the state constitution’s due process guarantee); id. at *25–*27 (Ginoza, J., dissenting) (arguing that the court should have resolved the case under its supervisory power to allow for stakeholder input before crafting a more permanent rule); id. at *17 (Recktenwald, C.J., concurring in part and dissenting in part) (agreeing with Justice Ginoza’s supervisory approach). The supervisory authority is a standalone power and can thus supplement other forms of judicial power as well as serve as an alternative basis for a court to act.

  1. Limits

A court’s zone of supervision is subject to both internal and external factors that police its boundaries. But both factors implicate the state’s political environment.

Internally, as multimember bodies, a supreme court’s composition is crucial to how and when it wields power.265See, e.g., Paul Brace, Laura Langer & Melinda Gann Hall, Measuring the Preferences of State Supreme Court Judges, 62 J. Pol. 387 (2000); Nicholas W. Waterbury & Alan J. Simmons, The Impact of Judicial Selection Method on State Supreme Court Justice Ideology, 53 Am. Pol. Rsch. 209 (2024). The supervisory authority is no exception. Thus, changes in a court’s composition can influence whether a given application of the supervisory power falls within the zone of supervision or should instead be seen as exceeding authority. For example, in the early 2000s, the Michigan Supreme Court experienced “deep divisions” along these lines.266See Cynthia Person & Susan Jezewski Evans, Constitutional Law, 52 Wayne L. Rev. 435, 436 (2006); Helen Hershkoff, The Michigan Constitution, Judicial Rulemaking, and Erie-Effects on State Governance, 60 Wayne L. Rev. 117, 119 (2014). After decades construing the supervisory power broadly,267See, e.g., Abrahamson, supra note 217, at 1164 (pointing to the Michigan Supreme Court’s broad use of its supervisory power as an innovative example of how state supreme courts can use their authority outside of traditional judicial review). a new majority of the court took a narrower view of its zone of supervision.268See Hershkoff, supra note 266, at 119. Of course, this can cut the other way, too, where a change in court composition produces a more expansive concept of the supervisory power. See, e.g., In re Yasiel R., 120 A.3d 1188, 1208 (Conn. 2015) (Espinosa, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part); Weems v. App. Ct., 992 N.E.2d 1228, 1230 (Ill. 2012) (Kilbride, J., dissenting).

While these internal factors can limit the supervisory power, the primary checks are external. Indeed, state constitutions “prioritize[] external checks on government more than internal checks.”269Jonathan L. Marshfield, America’s Other Separation of Powers Tradition, 73 Duke L.J. 545, 561 (2023). Following the “first wave” of state constitutions at the founding, subsequent charters from California to Connecticut emphasized control of government through novel structural innovations, like single-subject rules, statewide gubernatorial elections (versus legislative selection), and the creation of referendum, initiative, and recall processes.270See Robert F. Williams & Lawrence Friedman, The Law of American State Constitutions 247–48 (2d ed. 2023); Tarr, supra note 72, at 107–25, 150–62; Marshfield, supra note 269, at 570 (“[T]he state constitutional tradition has long recognized that liberal constitutional amendment processes can have a chilling effect on courts.”). It is these unique structural features that offer legal and political tools to constrain government authority.271See, e.g., G. Alan Tarr, State Constitutional Politics: An Historical Perspective, in Constitutional Politics in the States: Contemporary Controversies and Historical Patterns 3, 4–18 (G. Alan Tarr ed. 1996). Thus, the most consequential check on state judicial power is the state’s political processes, as defined by a state’s particular constitutional structure, norms, and history.272Neal Devins, How State Supreme Courts Take Consequences into Account: Toward A State-Centered Understanding of State Constitutionalism, 62 Stan. L. Rev. 1629, 1675–85 (2010).

Consider some of the relevant structural features common to state constitutions. The vast majority of justices stand for some kind of election. And even in the states that rely on a different method of selection, those mechanisms are not distorted by structures like the Electoral College. These features offer some level of majoritarian control over who is wielding judicial power. Further, with one exception, all state constitutions impose mandatory retirement, term limits, or both, which help facilitate churn as to court personnel. And the meaningful availability of popular initiative and amendment can similarly serve as a form of judicial sanction.273See generally John Dinan, State Constitutional Politics: Governing by Amendment in the American States (2018) (discussing the history and politics of state constitutional amendment). Taken together, these and other structural considerations play, as Laura Langer has shown, “defin[ing]” roles as to the contours of a supreme court’s power.274Langer, supra note 295, at 39–41; see also Devins, supra note 272, at 1676–79.

The coordinate branches similarly channel a state’s politics to influence the shape of a court’s power and what judges consider overreach or lack of compliance. As Meghan Leonard has observed, the coordinate branches of state government “have increased ability to fight back” against state supreme courts, relative to their federal counterparts.275Meghan E. Leonard, State Legislatures, State High Courts, and Judicial Independence: An Examination of Court-Curbing Legislation in the States, 37 Just. Sys. J. 53, 54 (2016).

Both branches have constitutional and political tools that can narrow and check courts. In state’s that rely on executive appointment, for instance, governors have used this authority to reconfigure courts they think of as activist, a tack Govenor Chris Christie attempted in New Jersey.276See, e.g., Robert P. George, In Replacing Supreme Court Justice John Wallace, NJ Gov. Chris Christie Made Good on His Promise, N.J.com (May 09, 2010, 10:14 AM), https://www.nj.com/njv_guest_blog/2010/05/in_replacing_supreme_court_jus.html [https://perma.cc/8BZY-5XW7] (quoting Gov. Christie as saying “I will remake the court and I will remake it on this one simple principle. If you (want to) legislate, (then) run for the Legislature, don’t put on a black robe and go to the Supreme Court . . . (T)here won’t be any justices that I either reappoint or put on that court that do that.”). Executives have also used their fiscal powers to slash court budgets or offer lower court judges raises in exchange for support of measures that check supreme court power.277See, e.g., Lincoln Caplan, The Political War Against the Kansas Supreme Court, New Yorker (Feb. 5, 2016), https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/the-political-war-against-the-kansas-supreme-court [https://perma.cc/5T7V-EUZ6]. As leaders with a statewide base, governors have also successfully galvanized popular support via direct democracy to bypass the legislature and override or countermand the courts.278See, e.g., Glenn Smith & Brendan Bailey, Legislative Reform of California’s Direct Democracy: A Field Guild to Recent Efforts, 47 Cal. W. L. Rev. 259, 282–83 (2011).

State constitutional structure and politics similarly afford legislatures several tools to meaningfully check judicial power. In the states where legislatures play a role in reconfirming or retaining justices, Thomas Gray has suggested the availability of such a sanction can and does chill potential abuses of judicial power.279See Thomas Gray, The Influence of Legislative Reappointment on State Supreme Court Decision-Making, 17(3) State Pol. & Pol’y Q. 275 (2016). Legislatures can also use their impeachment power as a way to threaten or check judicial overreach.280See Langer, supra note 295, at 38–39 (discussing examples). Similarly, there is a growing literature exploring the effects of court-curbing legislation at the state level that shows it can limit court power through direct (modifying substantive or procedural features) and indirect (galvanizing public support against the court) means.281See, e.g., Meghan E. Leonard, State High Courts and Horizontal Constraints, in Research Handbook on Judicial Politics 204–06 (Michael P. Fix & Matthew D. Montgomery eds., 2024).

State constitutions also provide the possibility of constitutional amendment, which can check judicial power and modify its undesirable applications. Studies of the constraining role of such measures suggest that using amendments to keep statutory and constitutional texts brief and detailed through frequent revision can “limit . . . the judiciary’s capacity to shape public policy” by narrowing their interpretive discretion and “minimiz[ing] the need for ongoing judicial determinations in the development of evolving public policies.”282Emily Zackin & Mila Versteeg, De-Judicialization Strategies, 133 Yale L.J. F. 228, 232 (2023).

As a result of many of these structural features, most state high courts operate in closer proximity to their state’s political thicket than their federal counterparts.283See Marshfield, supra note 269, at 570 (noting that “state courts are intentionally tied to politics in ways that have no federal analog”). As discussed in Part I, this was an intentional design choice as part of court unification efforts. That said, not all courts and chief justices are equally adept at the judicial statesmanship aspect of their jobs.284See Tobin, supra note 38, at 48–55. In this way, a court’s political savvy can (perhaps subtly) influence the boundaries of a court’s power and thus its zone of supervision as well.285See id. (discussing examples of the “more active and sophisticated political involvement of the judicial branch”); Langer, supra note 295, at 39–41.

In sum, the distinctive vision for government that elevated supreme courts to truly coordinate branches and produced the supervisory power was also responsible for the constitutional features that limit it. These structural considerations produce internal and external political factors that can genuinely sanction and check court power. Indeed, the state public law literature has long recognized state courts are subject to political forces to a degree “unknown in the federal system.”286Christine M. Durham, The Judicial Branch in State Government: Parables of Law, Politics, and Power, 76 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1601, 1613 (2001); Hans A. Linde, Judges, Critics, and the Realist Tradition, 82 Yale L.J. 227, 248–51 (1972); Ellen A. Peters, Getting Away from the Federal Paradigm: Separation of Powers in State Courts, 81 Minn. L. Rev. 1543, 1561 (1997); Shirley S. Abrahamson & Robert L. Hughes, Shall We Dance? Steps for Legislators and Judges in Statutory Interpretation, 75 Minn. L. Rev. 1045, 1081 (1991). The accumulation of these elements produces a governance structure capable of “absorb[ing]” broad applications of judicial power “much more constructively than the federal system.”287Jonathan L. Marshfield, Rethinking Structural Injunctions in State Constitutional Litigation, 85 La. L. Rev. 491, 519–20 (2025).

With these boundaries and limits in mind, the next Part considers what to make of the supervisory power, as well as its broader implications.

IV. Implications

During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, states from Alaska to Maine revised and redefined the structure of their governments through a flurry of constitutional conventions and amendments.288See generally Dinan, supra note 273, at 7–63 (offering a historical account of this period of state constitutional change); John Dinan, Explaining the Prevalence of State Constitutional Conventions in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, 34 J. Pol’y Hist. 297 (2022) (similar). Among other things, these changes elevated state judiciaries to equal status with other branches, made them more independent vis-à-vis the other branches, reconceptualized the role of state high courts by expanding their responsibilities, made them more accountable to the public, and, importantly, deliberately increased their power.289See supra Part I.

The increase in power and political status gave high courts more tools to control their operations and advance their interests. The supervisory power is one such tool and, as Part II shows, courts have used it beyond its routine administrative applications to make and shape policy across a range of contexts. This policymaking dimension of the supervisory power implicates a host of theoretical and normative questions.

This Part works through the major threads of those analyses. Conceptually, this Article’s account of the supervisory power suggests a more active role for courts within the state policymaking apparatus in which they operate as equal partners with the other branches to advance the state’s general welfare.290See supra Section I.B. The supervisory power provides high courts with a more precise and flexible tool to contribute to a state’s ongoing governance project. To be sure, this account of a supreme court’s role raises normative questions related to the legitimacy of judicial policymaking. While a comprehensive theory of interbranch relations is outside the scope of this Article, Part IV.B engages with some of the primary critiques of judicial lawmaking. In brief, the institutional assumptions that animate these important arguments do not map so easily onto the separation-of-powers principles at the heart of state constitutions, nor the institutional assumptions that underlie how state judicial power is allocated.

A. Theoretical Implications

At a basic level, the supervisory power provides an additional tool for supreme courts to actively participate in state governance, within adjudication and outside of it. While the power can perform that function across a range of applications, its capacity to provide signaling, facilitating, and coordinating functions is especially important.291Cf. Aileen Kavanagh, The Collaborative Constitution (David Dyzenhaus & Thomas Poole eds., 2024).

As a signaling device, supreme courts can call on the other branches to take action or they can share their perspectives on the underlying legal or policy issues outside of the strictures of ordinary constitutional litigation. For example, by enhancing constitutional values via procedural rules,292See supra Section II.A. courts can share concerns regarding law enforcement tactics without barring the behavior entirely as an “unreasonable search” or “cruel and unusual punishment.” Similarly, an area of law or policy might benefit from the unique tools and institutional capabilities of the legislature, but various exigencies or other factors may necessitate a temporary solution. Here, too, courts can signal the policy gap for the legislature and offer an initial solution that reflects the judiciary’s perspective and expertise.293See, e.g., State v. Skipwith, 165 A.3d 1211 (Conn. 2017).

The supervisory power similarly enables courts to operationalize and facilitate policies crafted by other branches. The decision by New Jersey’s high court to fashion a framework implementing the governor’s prisoner release policy during the pandemic is illustrative.294See supra notes 140–141 and accompanying text. There, and in similar examples, high courts invoke the supervisory power to effectuate the policy choices other branches have codified.295See, e.g., Tyler v. State, 903 N.E.2d 463 (Ind. 2009); Griggs v. Super. Ct., 546 P.2d 727 (Cal. 1976); Bennett v. Auto. Ins. Co. of Hartford, 646 A.2d 806 (Conn. 1994); In re Individuals in Custody of State, No. SCPW-21-0000483, 2021 WL 4762901 (Haw. Oct. 12, 2021).

Supreme courts can also coordinate actions between and among the branches towards effective governance. Consider again the Arkansas Supreme Court’s decision to bring the branches together to redraft the state’s criminal code from the ground up, or consider the California Supreme Court’s Collaboration on Mental Health Issues that resulted in related legislation.296See Jud. Council Cal., Admin. Office Cts., Task Force for Criminal Justice Collaboration on Mental Health Issues: Final Report 29 (2011), http://courts.ca.gov/documents/Mental_Health_Task_Force_Report_042011.pdf; Cal. Comm. Rep., Ca A.B. 2190 (NS), 2013–2014 Reg. Sess. (2014). High courts across the country have similarly relied on their supervisory power to engage the other branches and channel their collective roles towards a specific policy goal.297See, e.g., Sopko, supra note 19, at 1506–08 (collecting examples). These examples demonstrate how the supervisory power enables courts to help harness the state’s full policy capacity towards a shared objective, or at least provide a venue to align on what those shared objectives are.298Criminal justice reform provides several examples along these lines, especially in the context of pretrial detention, jury reform, and sentencing. See, e.g., Frampton & Osowski, supra note 9; Thomas Zambito, NJ Supreme Court Committee Urges Historic Changes to State’s Bail System, NJ.com (Mar. 20, 2014, 3:09 PM), https://www.nj.com/news/2014/03/chief_justices_committee_urges_historic_changes_in_njs_bail_system.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20240609020232/https://www.nj.com/news/2014/03/chief_justices_committee_urges_historic_changes_in_njs_bail_system.html].

These features illustrate some of the ways in which the supervisory authority empowers courts to contribute to state governance by engaging with other branches. Part II illustrated how supreme courts can make policy directly, in adjudication and beyond it. Together, we see how the supervisory power expands a supreme court’s policymaking capacity beyond the binary means afforded by judicial review. These applications of the supervisory power highlight a distinctive role for high courts in state governance, thus raising broader implications for allocation of powers and interbranch dynamics.

Some recent work on state separation-of-powers principles suggests that a core commitment at the heart of state constitutions is effective government. Scholarly accounts have observed that state constitutional structure favors practical over theoretical conceptions of institutional relations.299See, e.g., Jonathan Zasloff, Taking Politics Seriously: A Theory of California’s Separation of Powers, 51 UCLA L. Rev. 1079, 1130–31 (2004); Miriam Seifter, State Legislative Vetoes and State Constitutionalism, 99 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 2017, 2040–47 (2025); Marshfield, supra note 269, at 627–29. John Devlin, for instance, has argued that the distinctively mixed design of state government also suggests state constitutional structure prioritizes pragmatism and practice over political theory.300John Devlin, Toward a State Constitutional Analysis of Allocation of Powers: Legislators and Legislative Appointees Performing Administrative Functions, 66 Temp. L. Rev. 1205, 1266 (1993). This work rejects generic notions of government structure and institutional assumptions based on the Federal Constitution. Instead, scholars have elaborated on the significance of the unique structural arrangements and deliberate design choices in state charters.

This work frames state interbranch relations almost exclusively around conflict and contestation.301No doubt, such interactions are crucial to understanding how state power is distributed, but they are not fully representative of interbranch relations and thus limit the explanatory value of such theories. But as Jonathan Marshfield has shown, a Madisonian theory of separation of powers finds little purchase in state constitutions.302Marshfield, supra note 269, at 583–615. In other words, the notion that “ambition can be made to counteract ambition” between the branches is not the organizing principle behind state institutional structure. Rather, Dan Rodriguez has suggested that the core commitment that animated modern state constitutional development is good government.303See generally Daniel B. Rodriguez, Good Governing: The Police Power in the American States (2024) (suggesting state constitutions are organized around a structural logic that prioritizes good governance over other values like inter-branch competition). People prioritized a structural regime that is “pragmatic” and can provide for their general welfare.304Id. at 179. Part I explored this reorientation in the specific context of court reform—it was a catalyst for the

supervisory power—but Rodriguez shows it applies across the entire constitutional structure.

Developing conceptions of interbranch relations that prioritize conflict or minimize collaboration leaves this core aspect of state constitutional structure undertheorized. To be sure, friction and “showdowns” are inevitable (and perhaps desirable).305Cf. Eric A. Posner & Adrian Vermeule, Constitutional Showdowns, 156 U. Pa. L. Rev. 991 (2008). But developing conceptions of interbranch relations that focus on contestation limits the explanatory value of such theories and points towards a parochial conception of state constitutional structure.306See, e.g., James A. Gardner, The Positivist Revolution That Wasn’t: Constitutional Universalism in the States, 4 Roger Williams Univ. L. Rev. 109, 128–31 (1998). Cf. Kavanagh, supra note 291, at 32–50, 76–85.

This Article’s account of the supervisory power helps widen our lens accordingly and lays the groundwork for a more fulsome analysis of interbranch relations that elevates the role of cooperation.307Rodriguez, supra note 303, at 193 (noting that “collaboration is essential to realize the aims of good governing”). It demonstrates some of the ways the supervisory power can serve as a tool for courts to contribute to the governance process through expanded policymaking,308See supra Part II. filtered through the judiciary’s institutional expertise and distinctive political incentives (i.e., their zone of supervision).309See supra Part III.

B. Normative Implications

With this conceptual analysis in mind, we might ask then what we should make of the supervisory power. As discussed above, and noted throughout the Article, the supervisory power implicates foundational questions of state judicial power and role. Absent a comprehensive theory of state courts, though, we cannot fully evaluate the supervisory power’s normative implications. Thus, in working through the primary themes of that analysis, this Section’s discussion is accordingly tentative and brief.

We might fairly describe the supervisory authority as a judicial policymaking tool. As noted in Part II, the power plays a direct (e.g., ad hoc procedural rulemaking) and indirect (e.g., reaching a constitutional issue no party raised) part in enhancing a court’s capacity to make and influence state policy. To evaluate such aspects of judicial power, the courts’ literature often inquires as to whether courts are wielding the proper power and whether they are using it appropriately.310See, e.g., Bruce G. Peabody, Legislating from the Bench: A Definition and A Defense, 11 Lewis & Clark L. Rev. 185, 197–208 (2007). This is a vast literature that spans disciplines from law to social science, but two variables common to analysis along these lines are legitimacy and a court’s proper role.

It is fairly uncontroversial to say that American constitutional governance entails some level of judicial policymaking.311See, e.g., Jeb Barnes, Bringing the Courts Back In: Interbranch Perspectives on the Role of Courts in American Politics and Policy Making, 10 Ann. Rev. Pol. Sci. 25, 27 (2007). What is typically contested is how much is too much. Robert Kagan famously offered an institutional frame he termed “adversarial legalism” to help critique what he saw as an overreliance on courts as policymakers.312See Robert A. Kagan, Adversarial Legalism: The American Way of Law (2d ed. 2019) Kagan’s work sparked an entire literature on adversarial legalism that has expanded the concept. E.g., Jeb Barnes & Thomas F. Burke, Untangling the Concept of Adversarial Legalism, 16 Ann. Rev. L. & Soc. Sci. 473, 473 (2020). My discussion here is largely focused on Kagan’s own claims rather than those of his subsequent interlocutors. The thrust of Kagan’s nuanced argument against a broader vision of judicial policymaking is that American litigation is overly formal and participatory, which narrows the inputs and available tools for courts, creates higher political and economic costs, and as a result is generally less desirable than less court-driven alternatives.313See Kagan, supra note 312, at 10–14, 30–40.

This critique of judicial policymaking is worth considering. However, I think the account of the supervisory power sketched here, and the broader institutional assumptions it brings with it, undermine or perhaps even obviate some of the concerns Kagan’s theory advances. In brief, Kagan’s critique assumes judicial policymaking comes exclusively through adjudication—indeed it is in the very name of his concept (adversarial). But as discussed in detail in Part II, that is not the case with the supervisory power. It can and does operate outside of the confines of adjudication.

In this way, the supervisory power pushes court authority closer to what Kagan sees as an idealized notion of “bureaucratic legalism.”314See id. at 11–13. In this non-adjudicative context, many of the formalities associated with adjudication—rules of evidence, civil procedure, etc.—are not applicable. Instead, the process is substantially less formal, bringing judicial interventions closer to what Kagan sees as a normatively desirable government concept he terms “political and expert judgment.”315See id. at 11–12.

And yet, even when courts do rely on the power in the course of resolving a dispute, it can overcome many of what Kagan sees as the problems with making policy through adjudication. Specifically, the structure of adjudication and corresponding formality of procedural rules results in parties seeking broad policy outcomes under the guise of narrow, highly technical legal questions. Here, too, this Article’s account of the supervisory power can address some of these critiques of judicial policymaking. For example, high courts can and do rely on the authority to reframe or expand the questions presented, override otherwise rigid procedural rules, and other features that might narrow judicial inputs. Further, courts can convene commissions or task forces to operate as enhanced evidence-gatherers to supplement a lone appellate record and better inform their decision-making.

As discussed above, the supervisory power helps illuminate the institutional posture of state high courts and the ways that they challenge some of the background assumptions we typically assign to “courts.”316See supra Section III.C.1. Kagan’s critique further sharpens that point: generic concepts of what courts do do not map so easily on to state courts; and, with that, nor do some of the normative arguments against robust judicial policymaking roles in governance.

The supervisory power may also have normative consequences for a high court’s legitimacy.317To be clear, here I am referring to normative legitimacy. Whether the supervisory power is descriptively legitimate is largely an empirical question that is outside the scope of this Article. The legitimacy of judicial policymaking is the subject of rich literature, but scholars’ central theses generally focus on the concept of unaccountable institutions wielding purely discretionary power to issue sweeping, final rulings on consequential issues of social policy.318See, e.g., Colleen F. Shanahan, Jessica K. Steinberg, Alyx Mark & Anna E. Carpenter, The Institutional Mismatch of State Civil Courts, 122 Colum. L. Rev. 1471, 1522–23 (2022) (synthesizing relevant literature). In short, the legitimacy considerations turn on institutional aspects of courts and the nature of the power they wield.319See, e.g., Peabody, supra note 310, at 197–208.

As to structural factors, policymaking by courts is thought less legitimate because of how power is allocated between and among the branches. As courts wield their power in ways that look less and less like interpretation and adjudication, some scholars suggest we should be increasingly skeptical, since constitutional design is said to leave lawmaking to the other branches.

These are important considerations, but we should consider them in light of state constitutional structure. As Neil Komesar has shown, institutional evaluation does not proceed in a vacuum.320See generally Neil K. Komesar, A Job for the Judges: The Judiciary and the Constitution in a Massive and Complex Society, 86 Mich. L. Rev. 657 (1988) (analyzing institutional competency and capacity of courts in policymaking and suggesting that such analysis is necessarily comparative); Neil K. Komesar, Imperfect Alternatives: Choosing Institutions in Law, Economics, and Public Policy (1994) (elaborating on this claim). In other words, a narrower view of state court power—that is, rejecting the account of supervisory power advanced in this Article as normatively undesirable—will likely result in enhancing legislative and gubernatorial power. Passively redistributing authority this way towards a generic equilibrium would be generally inconsistent with the deep skepticism of policymaking by legislatures and executives that animated modern constitutional development.321See Rodriguez, supra note 303, at 25–28; Tarr, supra note 72, at 118–26. It could disrupt the allocation of policymaking directed to the judiciary. In short, state constitutional structure perhaps invites more judicial policymaking than our generic conceptions of institutional roles allow.

Moreover, the accountability of courts (or lack thereof, as is often the case at the federal level) often provides a basis for evaluating the legitimacy of their power. As discussed above, and well established in the literature, state courts are more democratic, more accountable, and subject to more horizontal checks than their federal counterparts.322See supra notes 271–287 and accompanying text. For these reasons, normative critiques of judicial policymaking generally do not map well onto state courts, as these arguments are generally tailored to federal features (e.g., life tenure) or universal conceptions of courts.

Beyond these structural elements, normative evaluations of judicial policymaking often focus on the nature of the power itself and the content of the decisions it produces. On the latter, tired rhetoric, like “legislating from the bench” is well known. But it speaks to a more serious concern that courts are straying too far from devices we generally think of as providing some limitations on court power—text, interpretive canons, precedent, etc.323See Peabody, supra note 310, at 203–04.

However, these evaluations assume a certain universe of forms of judicial power—largely a binary between constitutional and statutory interpretation. For example, consider the Warren Court’s procedural revolution. The U.S. Supreme Court crafted a host of procedural rules and frameworks that largely enhanced protections for criminal defendants based on its interpretation of the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Eighth Amendments. The critiques of decisions like Miranda and others are that they lack a basis in precedent and their rules cannot reasonably be squared with the underlying text.324See, e.g., Richard H. Fallon, Judicial Legitimacy and The Unwritten Constitution: A Comment on Miranda and Dickerson, 45 N.Y.L. Sch. L. Rev. 119, 121–24 (2000); Thomas Schrock & Robert C. Welsh, Reconsidering the Constitutional Common Law, 91 Harv. L. Rev. 1117, 1127–29 (1978). These cases affected the Court’s legitimacy because for critics, traditional constitutional adjudication required more fidelity to things like text and case law.

The supervisory power, however, is a decidedly different formulation of judicial authority. As discussed in greater detail in Parts I and II, it is ideally situated for the kind of decisional contexts that require more latitude and discretion than might be available under ordinary judicial review. In this way, the power’s very flexibility is what could make it a more legitimate alternative to otherwise conventional methods of power. Indeed, as a distinctive source of authority, the supervisory power offers an additional tool that can serve as an alternative to attempting to craft doctrinal rules or tests based on ill-fitting constitutional text or precedent or engaging in the debates over “lockstepping.”

Further, we might consider judicial policymaking undesirable because the resulting decisions are sweeping and final and often concern consequential issues of social policy. As a general matter, “state judicial review does not have the same finality” as its federal analogue.325Marshfield, supra note 269, at 570. But more specifically, the supervisory power is understood as even less final than ordinary judicial review. Whereas the latter might be thought of as “a big red stop sign” to the other branches,326Cf. Hon. Jeffrey S. Sutton, 21st Century Federalism: A View from the States, 46 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 31, 34 (2023). use of the supervisory power is perhaps better thought of as an invitation to “dance,” as some former chief justices have put it.327Cf. Shirley S. Abrahamson & Robert L. Hughes, supra note 286; Peters, supra note 137, at 1071. Indeed, justices have said implicitly and explicitly that a virtue of the supervisory power is its provisional nature.328See, e.g., State v. Skipwith, 165 A.3d 1211 (Conn. 2017) (McDonald, J., concurring); People v. Lemcke, 486 P.3d 1077, 1089 (Cal. 2021); Peters, supra note 137, at 1071. As Chief Justice Ellen Peters put it, relying on “supervisory authority leaves more flexibility for further input from all the interested constituencies.”329Peters, supra note 137, at 1071. In these ways, use of the supervisory power does not have the same aggrandizing effects as other formulations of judicial power that are said to risk a court’s legitimacy.

In sum, our evaluation of the supervisory power should account for two considerations. First, our evaluation should consider its potential for courts to advance their prerogatives and conflict with other branches, as well as its potential to facilitate their cooperation and coordination. Second, while the power is broad, flexible, and highly discretionary, it is subject to boundaries and rooted in both text and institutional context of state constitutions.330See supra Section III.A. Further, under a closer examination, we see that traditional arguments against judicial policymaking do not readily track the nature of the supervisory power and structure of state constitutions so easily. As a result, our evaluations of the supervisory power should proceed at the retail rather than wholesale levels. In other words, that courts use the supervisory power along the lines sketched in this Article should not per se raise normative problems. Rather, we should take each application on its own terms and consider it in the context of a court’s zone of supervision.

  Conclusion

The state supervisory power enables supreme courts to wield conventional forms of their power with fewer constraints and to assert it in seemingly unconventional ways. This Article offers a descriptive and theoretical account of this important aspect of state supreme court practice—as well as a qualified normative defense of it. It shows that the supervisory power is an essential feature of judicial independence and the broader role of state supreme courts as agents of governance. This feature of state high court practice has been an essential aspect of state constitutional structure, before state high courts’ current moment in the spotlight331See, e.g., Press, supra note 1. and will be after. To overlook this vital feature of state governance comes at our own peril, as state supreme courts are too important—and now more than ever—to overlook.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1543

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*Associate Professor, University of Colorado Law School. Aaron Caplan, Zach Clopton, Adam Crews, Colin Doyle, Marcus Gadson, Tara Grove, Andrew Hammond, Jon Marshfield, Tim Mulvaney, Jim

Pfander, Miriam Seifter, Dan Walters, Bob Williams, Abby Wood, Rob Yablon, Quinn Yeargain, and Adam Zimmerman provided helpful comments. The Article also benefited from discussions at the 2025 Emerging Scholars Conference in Public Law and the Brennan Center’s State Constitutions Lab. I am grateful to Wisconsin law students Mary Berg and Charlotte Gude for terrific research assistance. The editors of the Southern California Law Review provided superb editorial assistance. Thanks also to Sarah Alexander for the constant support and Hunter Sopko for the long weekend naps that made this Article possible.