'Error in judgment' jury instruction properly cuts room for doctor to escape liability for delay of surgery

Ischemic bowel in CT scan
(image by James Heilman, MD, CC BY-SA 3.0)

A doctor did not commit malpractice by awaiting test results before committing a patient to surgery for an ischemic bowel, even if permanent disability resulted from delay, the Massachusetts Appeals Court ruled before Memorial Day weekend.  The jury was properly instructed to allow leeway for error in judgment.

The plaintiff-patient presented at the emergency room at 1 a.m. in severe abdominal pain and with a history of gastric bypass surgery and hernia repair.  The defendant-doctor correctly suspected ischemic bowel, a blood blockage, and, at 3 a.m., sent the patient for a CT scan.  Based on the scan results, the doctor, at 4:23 a.m., ordered the patient to surgery, which commenced by 6:30 a.m.

The court summarized, "The main dispute at trial was whether [the doctor] acted within the standard of care by ordering the CT scan and waiting for the results, or whether he instead should have contacted a surgeon earlier."  On appeal from judgment entered for the doctor, the plaintiff charged that the jury was erroneously instructed to allow for error in the doctor's professional judgment.

Tracking model jury instructions (p. 5), the trial judge had instructed, inter alia:

"If, in retrospect, the physician's judgment was incorrect, it is not, in and of itself, enough to prove medical malpractice or negligence.

"Doctors are allowed a range in the reasonable exercise of professional judgment and they are not liable for mere errors of judgment so long as that judgment does not represent a departure from the standard of care resulting in a failure to do something that the standard of care requires or in doing something that should not be done under the standard of care.

"In other words, a doctor is liable for errors of judgment only if those errors represent a departure from the standard of care."

In affirming for the doctor, the court upheld the instruction.  The court reviewed a range of approaches in other states to "error of judgment" instruction in medical malpractice cases.  Hawaii and Oregon, for example, reject the instruction as posing too great a risk of confusion for the jury.  California accords with the Massachusetts position.  Other states, such as New York, use the instruction "only where there is evidence at trial that the physician chose from one of several medically acceptable alternatives."  In defense of the Massachusetts position, the court reasoned:

If properly formulated, such an instruction focuses the jury's attention on the standard of care, rather than the particular results in a case.  The instruction also recognizes the reality that, like all professionals, medical professionals need to make judgment calls between various acceptable courses of actions and they should not be found liable unless those judgment calls fall outside the standard of care.

The range of approaches demonstrates civil courts' long struggle with hindsight bias, especially in medical malpractice.  Hindsight bias is a natural human tendency to overestimate one's ability to make a decision correctly when viewing the decision as if in the past, ignorant of consequences, but from a perspective in the present, informed, in fact, by subsequently acquired information.  Shankar Vedantam talked about the problem on The Hidden Brain podcast in 2020.

Hindsight bias is not unique to medical malpractice, nor even to tort law.  Psychologists have documented hindsight bias in "accounting and auditing decisions, athletic competition, and political strategy," besides medicine.  As I wrote in a book on legal pedagogy in 2019, the cartoon South Park even invented a character, Captain Hindsight, to make fun of the human foible.  Hindsight bias inevitably contaminates every tort case, and countering it often is an appropriate strategy in legal argument and jury instruction.  For a juror, like any decision maker, it is difficult to reconstruct a past decision to the complete exclusion of undesired consequences.

The problem is exaggerated in the medical context because of the simplicity of the doctor-patient relationship.  A patient sees a doctor for one purpose, exclusively: to get better.  A doctor has one and only one job: to heal.  When healing is not the result that a patient experiences, and the jury has knowledge of that consequence, it is deceptively easy for jurors to confuse the doctor's failure to heal with a departure from the standard of care.  The Massachusetts instruction is designed to clarify the distinction for jurors.

The case is Paiva v. Kaplan, No. 19-P-1789 (Mass. App. Ct. May 28, 2021).  Justice Joseph M. Ditkoff authored the opinion of the unanimous panel that also comprised Justices Vuono and Milkey.  In a former post as general counsel of the District Court, Justice Ditkoff's responsibilities included drafting standardized jury instructions.

Extortion claim survives anti-SLAPP motion because defendants could not show petitioning connection

Haverhill, Mass., on the Merrimack River, 2008
(photo by Fletcher6 CC BY-SA 3.0)

Defendants could not raise an anti-SLAPP law against allegations of extortion, the Massachusetts Appeals court ruled before the Memorial Day weekend, because extortion did not relate plausibly to the defendants' constitutionally protected petitioning.

Plaintiffs Stem Haverhill and owner Caroline Pineau were applicants for zoning ordinance changes to permit a marijuana dispensary, since opened, in the downtown riverfront district of Haverhill, Massachusetts, a city 35 miles north of Boston, on the New Hampshire border.  Defendants Brad Brooks and Lloyd Jennings leased nearby residential and restaurant space and opposed the zoning changes.

Brooks and Jennings had had a scrap over property boundary with the previous owner of the Stem lot and had paid $30,000 to resolve the matter.  According to the complaint, Brooks and Jennings, apparently bitter over the former matter, demanded more than $30,000 from Pineau as the price of their acquiescence to zoning changes, no matter what the proposed use.

Stem and Pineau sued under the broad Massachusetts tort-and-consumer-protection statute, chapter 93A, as well as state civil rights law and common law defamation.  As often occurs in anti-SLAPP suits, both parties claimed the exercise of constitutional rights.  The plaintiffs were petitioning the government for zoning changes.  The defendants invoked anti-SLAPP upon the theory that the plaintiffs' civil charges of extortion were calculated to interfere with defendants' petition of government in opposition to the zoning changes.  (Read more about anti-SLAPP on this blog.)

The Massachusetts anti-SLAPP statute facilitates dismissal in favor of the defense by special motion upon the theory that litigation is being weaponized to chill the defendant's (or counter-defendant's) free exercise of the right to petition.  As construed by the Supreme Judicial Court, and quoted in part in the instant case, "a defendant seeking dismissal must show, at the threshold, that the claims against it 'are based solely on [its] exercise of its [constitutional] right to petition.'"

The extortion allegations did not fit the anti-SLAPP pattern, the court concluded, affirming the trial court on de novo review.  "Here, some of the defendants' statements to the Pineaus cannot reasonably be viewed as relating to the defendants' petitioning activities. As discussed, the defendants' focus was to obtain money from Pineau that the defendants knew Pineau did not owe to them."  Litigation in the Land Court could not produce a financial award, the court observed, thus undermining the defendants' position.  The court further reasoned:

Here the defendants did not merely oppose Pineau's proposed business, nor did they merely seek to negotiate their price.  Rather, the complaint describes a concerted and extended effort to coerce Pineau to pay, "or else"—complete with thinly veiled threats such as that Pineau "doesn't know who she is dealing with." The complaint thus adequately describes extortion—coercion by improper means that is designed to reap an economic reward. Such actions, in the business context, can be actionable under c[hapter] 93A, and given the facts alleged here, the suit is not based solely on petitioning activity as required by the anti-SLAPP cases.

Though the "solely" limitation is not found in the anti-SLAPP statute, the rule appropriately narrows the doctrine to its roots in protecting the right to petition.  Had the case proceeded in the Massachusetts anti-SLAPP process, the plaintiff would have been afforded an opportunity in rebuttal, also, to articulate a purpose apart from chilling the right to petition.  As the Appeals Court observed, "The Supreme Judicial Court has construed the statute several times, and has provided a framework, which has evolved over time, for analyzing whether an anti-SLAPP motion to dismiss should be allowed."

The case is Haverhill Stem LLC v. Jennings, No. 20-P-537 (Mass. App. Ct. May 26, 2021).  Justice John Englander authored the opinion for a unanimous panel that also comprised Chief Justice Green and Justice Kinder.

Brood X cicadas taste terrible, but teach life lessons

A Brood X cicada that emerged early, in 2017
(Flickr by Katja Schulz CC BY 2.0)

If you're like me, the emergence of Brood X cicadas on the mid-Atlantic American seaboard induces more anxiety than is healthy.

I met Brood X face to face only once, when I was a teenager in Baltimore, Md., in 1987.  Every 17 years, the big red-eyed bugs realize that heaven is a place on earth, not under it, and they rise up with a screeching rhythm that's gonna get you.  Unlike locusts, cicadas are clumsy fliers and seem oblivious to humans as a threat.  So simply going outside invites cicadas to crash into your nicest denim jacket.

This time, the cicadas have failed to anticipate a new human threat.  People are popping cicadas onto the grill for purportedly finger-licking-worthy indulgence.  

Fried cicadas in China, 2013
(Flickr by Sharon Hahn Darlin, who didn't eat them, CC BY 2.0)

The appeal escapes me.  Persons of ordinary sensibilities are horrified by cicadas.  CBS News aptly labeled a story on Brood X, "Warning: Graphic images."  Haley Weiss is a normal person.  She wrote for The Atlantic:

Nowhere was that shellfish flavor more evident than in the oven-roasted cicada, though I was quickly distracted from that thought by the realization that the bug had exploded in my mouth like a Gusher. My tongue awash in bug guts, I reconsidered all the choices I’d made in my life that had brought me to that moment.

Oh, heads up, the FDA warns not to eat cicadas if you're allergic to shrimp.  Because that makes sense.

Well, another voice in the inexplicable camp of cicada supporters is my uncle, Tom Peri, a Baltimore biology teacher with a new video series about Brood X.  In four short installments, Buggin' Out with Mr. Peri is now available on Facebook from Notre Dame Preparatory School (NDP).  Each short installment teaches us, as Mr. Peri puts it, that cicadas "aren't the monsters you think they're going to be."  In episode 1, Mr. Peri promises us life lessons to be learned from the humble cicada, such as, "you're at your best when you're rising from a low point." 

Give Buggin' Out a try (ep. 1, 2, 3, 4), and especially share it with kids.  Maybe we can condition young minds to think differently from mine.  Then, in 2038, our only anxiety will be over which cicada food truck to choose.

An NDP upper-level science teacher with decades of classroom experience, Tom Peri won a prestigious Lead. Learn. Proclaim. Award from the National Catholic Educational Association in 2018.  He is a former headmaster of St. John’s Prospect Hall and Towson Catholic High School.

First Amendment advocate counsels caution, but doesn't rebuff, American right to be forgotten

Gene Policinski, Freedom Forum Senior Fellow for the First Amendment, published an op-ed last week for the "First Five" blog in which he counseled caution, but did not gainsay, newsroom "fresh start," or "right to be forgotten" (RTBF), programs.

Motivated in part by European notions of personal data protection, or informational privacy, especially RTBF, fresh start programs give persons covered in past news an opportunity to apply for the erasure of their coverage from online archives.  For NPR in February, David Folkenflik and Claire Miller reported on trending fresh start programs at major U.S. news outlets, such as The Boston Globe, "Revisiting the Past for a Better Future."  The NPR stories observed that these programs have come about in part because of European legal norms, even for newspapers beyond the reach of European legal jurisdiction.

In 2013, I wrote in a law review article that Americans' expectations of privacy, including RTBF, are in fact consonant with evolving European norms, but American law has been slow to keep pace.  The twin notions of finite punishment for past wrongs and of a second chance for persons who have paid their dues are quintessentially American, I wrote in a Washington Post op-ed in 2014.  Those values are reflected, for example, in Eighth Amendment jurisprudence and the Ban the Box campaign.

A prohibitive challenge to RTBF norms in the United States has been the First Amendment, which generally prohibits regulation of the republication of lawfully obtained and truthful information.  Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse, the free-speech absolutist bent of the First Amendment contrasts with a more flexible European approach to rights balancing.  Nothing about the First Amendment, however, precludes a private journalistic enterprise, such as the Globe, from erasing content voluntarily.

Like RTBF itself, fresh start programs have been criticized by free speech and mass communication scholars.  They remind us that journalism is the "first rough draft of history."  Tinkering with archives therefore vests private actors with a weighty, not to mention expensive, responsibility on behalf of the public.  Fresh start advocates point out that this work is not dissimilar to the exercise of news judgment in the first instance.  But the perspective problem is not eliminated by time.  There is no way to be sure that our present-day second-guessing of the historical record is more fair and objective than the original judgment, nor sufficiently preservationist for the future.

Old Slave Mart Museum, Charleston, S.C.
(RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Just last week, I visited the Old Slave Mart Museum and other historical sites in Charleston, S.C.  To my eyes, the casual treatment of persons as property in the content of news media in times of slavery, as well as racism evident in later media during Jim Crow, is evidence of horrific injustice and a powerful reminder not to take for granted that one's present vision is free of bias.  What if that record had been erased, rather than preserved?  Could Henry Louis Gates Jr.'s "Finding Your Roots" have identified Ben Affleck's slave-owning ancestor (NPR) if history were redacted?

At the same time, I am an advocate for RTBF in some form, just as I support Ban the Box.  I am devoted to the First Amendment.  But digital media, that is, an internet that "never forgets," confronts our society with a new and qualitatively different challenge from any we have faced before.  Viktor Mayer-Schönberger well described in his 2011 book, Delete: The Virtue of Forgetting in the Digital Age, how forgetting, in addition to remembering, is an essential and well evolved part of human social culture.  A failure to forget is an existential threat.

Journalist and academic Deborah L. Dwyer has developed a useful and thought-provoking set of fresh start resources for journalists at her website, Unpublishing the News, cited by Policisnki.  I don't pretend to know whether fresh start, or European RTBF, or some other approach is the best solution, nor whether any of these models will stand the test of time.  I do believe that feeling our way forward is fascinating and necessary.

The op-ed is Gene Policinski, Perspective: News Outlets Need Caution in Offering a "Fresh Start," Freedom Forum (May 26, 2021).

Library podcast sights bike path highs in Rhode Island

Today is World Bicycle Day.

In tandem with National Bicycle Month in May, podcast Rhody Radio published a poignant episode featuring the East Bay Bike Path, a 14-mile paved trail running between Providence and Bristol, Rhode Island.

East Bay Bike Path, Bristol, R.I., June 2020
(RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

I run, walk, or bike on the path almost every day that I'm home.  I contributed a segment to the podcast (cue 7:30, about two and a half minutes), remembering walks with my late dog, Rocky.

Rhody Radio is a statewide collaborative library project.  Now ongoing, the podcast was launched to keep communities engaged with their local libraries during the pandemic.  This exemplary episode was organized and hosted by energetic Project Lead Jessica D'Avanza, who has served as community engagement librarian for the Barrington (R.I.) Public Library since 2013.

The podcast is episode 43, Libraries, Bicycles, & Storytelling from the East Bay Bike Path, Rhody Radio (May 25, 2021).

Arts school awards BFA to creative talent in film, TV; 'Schitt's Creek' creator Levy says, 'follow through'

Last week, my daughter was awarded a well earned bachelor of fine arts degree by the film and television program at the Savannah College of Art and Design.  Look forward to shameless promotion of her future projects on this blog.

Dan Levy
(Vogue Taiwan CC BY 3.0)

The commencement speaker was Schitt's Creek creator Dan Levy.  He told graduates:

[F]ollow through. That’s the greatest advice I could give because so few people actually do it....  If you’re a writer and you want to write a book, or a book of poetry, or a television show, or a movie and it gets a bit daunting and intimidating and you get that writer’s block, don’t give up on it. Because at the end of that experience, you will have something....  Ninety-nine percent of the people out there have all the ideas in the world but never follow through on it. So if you are that person, that can walk into a room with something, some expression of your creativity that you have completed, you are so far ahead of a lot of people.

I always wanted to have a blog.

Boosted twice by war, then by economic catastrophe, paper money tells the story of America

Notaphilist, historian, and my uncle, Armand Shank yesterday gave a fascinating talk on the history of banking and paper currency in Maryland for the Historical Society of Baltimore County.

From Shank's collection: Currency issued in Baltimore
by the Continental Congress, 1777

The history of money is, of course, the history of America.  The British initially held strict control over currency in the colonies, Shank explained, and, lo and behold, British banking rates and policies seemed never to inure to the benefit of colonists.  Local currency, besides federal "IOUs," sometimes appeared of necessity and represented resistance.  Benjamin Franklin Bache, grandson of Benjamin Franklin, was a publisher of money and used samples his grandfather brought back from Europe as models.  Shank showed one of Bache's products.

Late in the 18th century, the Continental government issued national currency to raise millions of dollars for the Revolution.  Acceptance of the currency was expected, Shank said, for refusing it would brand one a traitor.  After independence, the First Bank of the United States was chartered in 1791, but lasted only until 1811, a casualty of Jefferson's state-centric vision of federation prevailing over Hamilton's wish for a strong central government.  State and local money came back on the scene in a big way, notwithstanding the ultimately decisive U.S. Supreme Court approval of the Second Bank of the United States in McCulloch v. Maryland, the 1819 staple of the modern constitutional law class.  Shank shared images of money from Baltimore County in the early 19th century.  Counterfeits proliferated.

Shank's first acquisition

In the 1860s, it was the need to raise money for war that again prompted the assertion and mass issue of federal currency.  The National Banking Acts of 1863 and 1864 strengthened and standardized national currency and, by 1865, phased out currency issued by state banks.  Local banks continued to issue currency, but only with the imprimatur of a national charter system.  Financial crises early in the 20th century led to reforms such as the first Federal Reserve Act, in 1913.  Federal reserve notes as we recognize them today emerged from a more vigorous standardization policy at the start of the Great Depression in 1929.

Quonset-style home in 1948
(Ed Yourdon CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Shank shared images from his collection of notes issued by the National Bank of Cockeysville, the town in northern Baltimore County where Shank grew up.  A $20 note of the bank was the first in Shank's collection, coming into his possession when he was a boy.  Circa 1950, Shank's father, Armand Shank, Sr., took Armand, Jr., to see Alexander D. Brooks, a cashier whose name appeared on the currency and who lived still in Cockeysville.  Alas, Shank said, Brooks, then in his 80s, had little recollection of his work for the bank.  Brooks died in 1956.

I have fond memories of being a kid in the 1970s, playing with cousins in the backyard of Armand Shank, Sr.'s home, where Armand, Jr., grew up, in Cockeysville.  The home, built in 1950 and still standing, was of a quonset-hut style, unusual today.  Many such homes were once built in this cost-effective style to meet the demand for housing after World War II: the homestead of the Baby Boom.  I didn't know that at the time, of course; I was more interested in the vast volume of lightning bugs that populated the yard.  I remember the smell of the place, fresh cut grass with a not unpleasant hint of motor oil.  It charms me now to think of another boy in that same environment, a generation earlier, one day awakening to a passion for American history told through the lineaments of banknotes.

Armand Shank is a member of the Board of Directors of the Historical Society of Baltimore County.   He is co-author of Money and Banking in Maryland: A Brief History of Commercial Banking in the Old Line State (1996).  He has a new article forthcoming on the subject for History Trails, a publication of the society.

Transparencia, acceso a información se imponen como normas frágiles en acuerdo ambiental de Escazú

Parque Nacional Marino Ballena, Costa Rica
(2014 foto por RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

(English.) En el Día de la Madre Tierra en abril, entró en vigor un acuerdo internacional clave sobre ambientalismo y sostenibilidad.  El acuerdo es innovador en transparencia, pero enfrenta resistencia en su implementación.

El Acuerdo Regional sobre Acceso a la Información, la Participación Pública y el Acceso a la Justicia en Asuntos Ambientales en América Latina y el Caribe se adoptó en Escazú, Costa Rica, en marzo de 2018.  El acuerdo ha sido firmado por 24 países de América Latina y el Caribe, y ratificado por 12, incluidos México y Argentina en enero.  Pero la vitalidad del acuerdo está en duda ya que algunos principales actores, incluidos Chile y Perú, han dejado en suspenso su apoyo.

El acuerdo tiene dos artículos que tratan específicamente del acceso a la información. El artículo 5 se refiere al acceso de los ciudadanos al gobierno, y el artículo 6 se refiere a la difusión afirmativa de información en manos del gobierno.  Según "el principio de máxima publicidad," el artículo 5 establece un sistema de acceso típico a la información que incluye una neutralidad de motivos, el derecho a respuesta en 30 dias, y apelar, reenvío de solicitudes en busca de información, elección de formato, limitación de costos razonables, acceso parcial a información no exenta, y el derecho a una explicación de la denegación por escrito.

La denegación de acceso debe basarse en razones establecidas en la ley de antemano y debe interpretarse estrictamente con la carga de la prueba en el gobierno. Cuando la ley no dispone lo contrario, se permite la denegación solo por riesgo para la vida o la seguridad, seguridad nacional, protección del medio ambiente o una probable amenaza de daño sustancial a las fuerzas del orden. Los supuestos intereses públicos en la denegación del acceso deben sopesarse con los beneficios públicos en la divulgación "sobre la base de elementos de idoneidad, necesidad y proporcionalidad."  El artículo 5 también demanda la creación de un organismo de supervisión independiente.

Si el artículo 5 detalla una medida bienvenida de transparencia ambiental, ninguno es radical.  El gobierno de México reconoció que las obligaciones de transparencia eran consistentes con la ley nacional de libertad de información. Las obligaciones afirmativas del artículo 6 son más rigurosas.

El artículo 6 requiere que las autoridades públicas "generen, recopilen, pongan a disposición del público y difundan la información ambiental relevante para sus funciones de manera sistemática, proactiva, oportuna, regular, accesible y comprensible, y que actualicen periódicamente esta información y alienten la desagregación y descentralización de la información ambiental a nivel subnacional y local."

Una lista de información requerida para estar disponible públicamente incluye zonas contaminadas, "fuentes relativas a cambio climático," y "residuos por tipo y, cuando sea posible, desagregado por volumen, localización y año."  Además, las autoridades deben establecer "un registro de emisiones y transferencia de contaminantes al aire, agua, suelo y subsuelo," y, "en caso de amenaza inminente a la salud pública o al medio ambiente, ... divulgar[ar] de forma inmediata y por los medios más efectivos toda la información relevante que se encuentre en su poder y que permita al público tomar medidas para prevenir o limitar eventuales daños."

Sin embargo, a pesar de todas esas expectativas, el verdadero escollo político podría encontrarse al final del artículo 6.  El problema surge cuando el estado va a morder la mano que lo alimenta.  El artículo 6 insta a las partes del acuerdo a promover la transparencia ambiental en la contratación pública.  Y los dos últimos párrafos del artículo 6 establecen:

Cada Parte adoptará las medidas necesarias, a través de marcos legales y administrativos, entre otros, para promover el acceso a la información ambiental que esté en manos de entidades privadas, en particular la relativa a sus operaciones y los posibles riesgos y efectos en la salud humana y el medio ambiente.

Cada Parte incentivará, de acuerdo con sus capacidades, la elaboración de informes de sostenibilidad de empresas públicas y privadas, en particular de grandes empresas, que reflejen su desempeño social y ambiental.

Si bien México consideró que el acuerdo es compatible con la ley de transparencia, según un comentario del bufete de abogados internacional Garrigues, con sede en Madrid, Perú se resiste al acuerdo específicamente porque su ley de transparencia ya funciona.  Perú también lamentó "pérdida de soberanía del Estado ... en el manejo de sus recursos naturales," si la ejecución puede ser sometida a la Corte Internacional de Justicia. Además, Garrigues explicó:

[T]ambién se sostuvo que el Acuerdo de Escazú representaría un peligro para los derechos adquiridos a través de concesiones, contratos, convenios o autorizaciones otorgadas, así como a la propiedad privada, en tanto se dispone el acceso a la información ambiental sin expresión de causa, lo cual podría ocasionar la paralización de las inversiones, además de imponer obligaciones que no deberían soportar las entidades privadas.

Laguna Cejas, Salar de Atacama, Chile
(2015 foto por RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Chile, que había sido un actor clave en las negociaciones junto con Costa Rica, como proponente del acuerdo, citó de manera similar, entre sus muchas razones para retirar su apoyo al acuerdo, ambigüedad sobre "el tipo de información ambiental ni otros aspectos de la obligación que se impone a las 'entidades privadas' de generar y divulgar."

La importancia de la transparencia para la responsabilidad ambiental está bien establecida. El acuerdo de Escazú en sí se inició como producto de la Declaración de Río sobre el medio ambiente y el desarrollo, en 1992. El acceso a la información ha sido parte de otras iniciativas ambientales importantes, a saber, la Convención de Aarhus sobre el acceso a la información, la participación pública en la toma de decisiones, y acceso a la justicia en materia ambiental, que entró en vigor en 2001, y el Protocolo de Cartagena sobre bioseguridad del convenio sobre la diversidad biológica, que entró en vigor en 2003.

Incluso en los Estados Unidos, donde el acceso a la información por estatuto ha variado desde la famosa innovación en la década de 1960 hasta la infame torpeza (quiero decir "clunkiness" en inglés) de hoy, el desastre de Bhopal, y una emergencia doméstica, precipitaron leyes de transparencia en 1986 y en 1990 y dieron como resultado un registro público de emisiones tóxicas mantenido por la Agencia de Protección Ambiental.  Los Estados Unidos también requieren una transparencia sectorial limitada en el sector privado con respecto a la salud pública. En una historia reciente, On the Media informó sobre la transparencia de la investigación médica requerida por la ley federal, si bien junto con una alarmante falta de cumplimiento.

En 2018, escribí sobre una doctrina de acceso a la información en Sudáfrica empleada para obtener información suelta de corporaciones privadas sobre riesgos y daños ambientales. Gigantes agroquímicos como Monsanto, ahora parte de Bayer, intervinieron en litigio sudafricano para evitar el acceso a información sobre modificaciones genéticas patentadas.  Ciertamente, América Latina no es ajena a la explotación por parte de los agronegocios, y la transparencia, especialmente en el sector privado, es una herramienta vital para proteger la salud pública ahora en el futuro.

Países latinoamericanos han avanzado en áreas como la protección de datos y la regulación alimentaria que avergüenzan a Estados Unidos. Pero la batalla contra la corrupción es interminable. El destino del Acuerdo de Escazú lo dirá.

Court thins line between hate speech, free speech, while deepening European continental divide

Mural in Sofia, Bulgaria
(2019 photo by RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

A politician's racist hate speech and Holocaust denial were too readily protected by the freedom of speech in Bulgaria, the European Court of Human Rights opined in a February decision that challenges free expression and deepens tension between western and eastern Europe.

In litigation by Citizens Against Hatred and allied NGOs, plaintiffs sued in Sofia for harassment and incitement to discrimination.  Their target was Volen Siderov, a far right-wing politician, founder of the "Attack" party, who beat the drum of Bulgarian nationalism in two books and a speech to Parliament.  Siderov perpetuated denigrating stereotypes including that Jews manufactured the Holocaust as a scheme for financial extortion and that Roma people are "prone to crime and depravity."  His hate speech also targeted Turks, Catholics, and LGBTQ persons. 

Siderov's speech did not target individuals, nor call for any specific act of discrimination or violence.  The Sofia court ultimately dismissed the claims, unable to find that any one person had suffered injury or loss as a result of Siderov's vitriol.  The Sofia City Court and the Bulgarian Supreme Court of Cassation affirmed, holding, with reference to European jurisprudence, that Siderov's speech was protected by the freedom of expression.

In Strasbourg, the European Court of Human Rights held that the claimants had been denied a fair hearing in Bulgarian courts, a violation of their rights of dignity and freedom from discrimination under articles 8 and 14 of the European Convention on Human Rights.  Maybe Siderov's speech was protected expression under article 10 of the European Convention.  But the Bulgarian courts had been too quickly dismissive of the plaintiffs' claims.

"Expression on matters of public interest is in principle entitled to strong protection under Article 10 of the Convention, whereas expression that promotes or justifies violence, hatred, xenophobia or another form of intolerance cannot normally claim protection," the court explained.  "[I]t may be justified to impose even serious criminal-law sanctions on journalists or politicians in cases of hate speech or incitement to violence."

Volen Siderov
(Flickr by Nedko Ivanov CC BY 2.0)

The Bulgarian courts had not drawn an appropriate balance.  "Although the courts acknowledged the vehemence of the statements, they downplayed their capacity to stigmatise Jews as a group and arouse hatred and prejudice against them, and apparently saw them as no more than part of a legitimate debate on matters of public concern."

The decision strikes a note of discord in both westerly and easterly directions.  As a matter of free speech absolutism, American courts have been consistently resistant to regulation of hate speech.  Academics have twisted themselves into knots to reconcile the civil-rights-era First Amendment with a 1952 Supreme Court decision that momentarily sanctioned criminal libel based on race, color, creed, or religion.  Meanwhile, the First Amendment continues to be a perplexing problem for would-be regulators who link disinformation with populist nationalism of Siderov's ilk.

At the same time, the European Court decision is bound to aggravate a burgeoning resistance in Bulgaria, and throughout the east, to perceived western European cultural imperialism.  Bulgarian courts in 2018 ruled unconstitutional, and the Bulgarian Parliament was prepared to vote down, the Council of Europe convention on preventing and combating violence against women, "the Istanbul Convention" (Euractiv).  The politicization of an issue so seemingly uncontroversial is a story revealing of a deeper continental divide, and the court's strike against Siderov plays right into perceived grievances.

The case is Behar & Gutman v. Bulgaria, No. 29335/13 (Eur. Ct. Hum. Rts. Feb. 16, 2021) (LawEuro).

So you wanna teach law school? Good luck with that. Or, 'A Clerkship Story'

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Professor Howard M. Wasserman at FIU Law, author of the superb Understanding Civil Rights Litigation, has published in Judicature a thought-provoking study, Academic Feeder Judges: Are Clerkships the Key to Academia? (spring 2021).

Yes is the short answer.  There is clear correlation between clerking and later teaching.  Wasserman explained, "Two or three generations ago, the clerkship was the essential credential, and a call from the judge or justice to the law-school dean was the ticket to the teaching job. Louis Brandeis favored clerks whom he believed would become law teachers."

But the correlation, and probable causation, is diminishing, and "[t]he Great Recession of 2008 appears to have exacerbated the disconnect between clerkship and teaching," Wasserman wrote.  He chalks up the change to a number of factors.  Teaching fellowship programs, "sexy" niche appellate practices, and more programs for advanced degrees in law have generated a pool of promising candidates on alternative tracks to fewer positions.

Though I don't think any of that will change the status quo.  Legal academics remains largely the province of an elite, including too many by inherited opportunity, especially at top schools.  Even these newly minted access tracks only reinforce exclusion.

I didn't clerk.  I've been fortunate to land two jobs in academics at schools where a clerkship was not a sine qua non.  But in my job searches, I know that I was excluded at some schools—once, only about a dozen years ago, I was told so plainly—for lack of a clerkship.  As I don't think I'm too bad at being a law professor, that's a disappointing result.  While Wasserman might purport to describe a preference of "two or three generations ago," people who were hired two generations ago are still doing hiring now.

And there is resistance to change.  For all the bluster about equality of access to opportunity uttered by the nation's overwhelmingly liberal law professors, the vast majority in the end succumb to the beguiling predilection to replicate themselves and their experiences.

Considering why students, me included, don't clerk illustrates the inequality of access to opportunity in the academy, not to mention many other career tracks.

To start with, judges, many of whom also fall prey to the predilection to replicate themselves, tend to recruit only from select law schools.  UMass Law, for example, a "fourth-tier law school," has seen only modest success at placing students in clerkships, then only at the state level, and only through concerted, all-hands-on-deck efforts by students, faculty, and staff.  

Federal judges don't recruit at UMass.  They did recruit at "first tier" Duke Law School when I was a student there in the 1990s.  But they weren't recruiting me.  The career services office groomed students with a 3.5 GPA for interviews, and my 3.4 didn't make the cut.

I think I would have made a good clerk.  Having come to law from journalism, I was a decent writer and editor.  To my observation, my classmates who excelled at law school and attained those top grades with less effort were as often as not children of lawyers and professionals.  I was not.  They seemed to understand the 1L game in a way that was opaque to me.  I figured it out and turned out A+s by the time I graduated, but that was too late to open some doors.  From where I sit today, as a professor, it's no wonder to see that my students who are the first in their families to attempt graduate school, or even university, face the steepest learning curves.

I was determined, though.  Whatever this clerkship thing was about, telling me I could not have something just supercharged my desire for it.  A full-tuition-paying Duke client, I demanded access to clerkships.  Career services pointed me to a binder of judges' names and addresses.  I was welcome to apply on my own, without Duke's help.

I remember the feel of the thin plastic cover of the binder in my hands.  I remember turning the looseleaf pages and copying the information into my notebook with a pen.  I remember feeling ashamed and angry doing this while, feet behind my back, in the career services office, other students sat, sharply dressed, waiting nervously for clerkship interviews to which they had been invited.

I did apply on my own for clerkships: 23 years old and no clue what I was doing.  Unsurprisingly, I had no bites from the federal bench.  Surprisingly, I did score an interview with a state supreme court judge.  I traveled to the state on my own dime, donned my best (only) suit, and interviewed.  The interview seemed to go well.

The judge telephoned me a couple of weeks later.  I was his first choice, he said.  My pulse quickened and face flushed.  But, he said sheepishly, haltingly, he was, unfortunately, obliged to hire his second choice, because she was the daughter of a colleague.  Surely I could understand his predicament.  This is how things are.  He was sorry.  Felt he owed me the explanation.  My heart sank.

Don't feel sorry for me.  I went right into law practice at a large, prestigious firm in a major city.  I didn't have whatever it took to get a clerkship.  But I had an opportunity out of Duke that almost none of my UMass students can get still today.  It's all relative.

The lesson still is, or should be, a painful one.  The changes that Wasserman cited do little to change the reality of access to opportunity in legal academics.  Teaching fellowships are typically reserved for diverse candidates.  Because diversity doesn't refer to socioeconomics, nor family immigration history, most of my students, like me, would not qualify.

A top-end practice experience did give me an advantage in my applications to the academy.  But for even the very best of my students—who, if it matters, might have chosen UMass for reasons of economic, geographic, or other necessity, not a function of choosing the highest ranking school one can get into, which is what I did—a job at a "white shoe" law firm is a pipe dream.

And more advanced education is not feasible for students who, like me, financed legal education wholly through debt.  My wife and I just paid off our own educational debt last year, right after we started borrowing to pay for our daughter's college education.  We were lucky; neither of us had undergrad debt, thanks to scholarships and the military.  I turned down two full scholarships to lower ranked law schools.  Some of my law students have twice the debt we had and will be lucky to have a quarter of the job prospects. 

One of my students graduating now would make a superb teacher, and he is so inclined.  He asked me about it.  What can I say?  He lacks the demographic endowments requisite for a diversity fellowship.  One of my own faculty colleagues said at a hiring meeting just last week that "we don't need more white" at UMass.  She was applauded.  This student will never score a Boston law firm job.  A UMass valedictorian was told at a Boston law firm just a few years ago that his interview was a professional courtesy to the dean, but the firm would never hire from a public school.  And this student is swimming in debt.  Should I tell him to dig deeper and get a "corrective LL.M." at full price from one of the elite law schools he probably should have chosen to begin with?

The change that Wasserman reported is good news, but I don't think will effect improvement in true diversity in the legal academy in my lifetime—taking into account lived experience, more than just boxes checked for skin color, gender identity, and sexual preference.  Even new avenues of access are limited to narrowly defined classes of people and favor the advantaged insiders of the socioeconomic elite.

And the real kicker about clerkships is that you never get a second chance.  Perversely, one is qualified for a clerkship only once, precisely when one is not qualified for a clerkship: as a graduating law student.  My students who cannot, for a variety of reasons beyond their control, clerk after law school will never clerk.  I would love to clerk, still today, but I can never be 23 again.  When I apply to lateral now in academics, the omission of a clerkship a quarter century ago still stains my résumé.

The stains of access denied last for life.  That's how access to opportunity works in many sectors of the American job market: hallways of doors that are closed to ordinary people.  The liberal legal academy is no exception.