Happy Year of the Wood Dragon

Happy lunar new year, and welcome, the Year of the Wood Dragon.

Read more about the symbolism of the wood dragon at South China Morning Post. 

This treasure of mine (pictured) is made in Indonesia, though I bought it at Camden Town in London.

Culp's critical perspectives endure in Chang lecture

Prof. Chang
Seattle Law

Professor Robert S. Chang delivered the inaugural Jerome M. Culp, Jr. Critical Theory Lecture at Duke Law School February 1.

Chang is professor of law and executive director of the Fred T. Korematsu Center for Law and Equality at Seattle University School of Law. He spoke on, "How Do We Come to Participate in the Struggles of Those Who Are Not Us?" The lecture is posted at Panopto and on YouTube (embedded below, at bottom).

Chang traced contemporary racial differences in American history from the burning of Jamestown, Va., in the 17th century to the Civil War, Chinese exclusion laws, and, ultimately, the legal battle over affirmative action. Born in Korea, Chang's work emerges from ethnic perspective and personal experience growing up in small-town America.

My alma mater, Duke Law doesn't need me to do public relations. I mention the Chang lecture because of Professor Culp, for whom the lecture series is named. Culp was the first person of color to earn tenure at Duke Law, where he taught from 1985 until his death in 2004. He was, as Duke recounted, an internationally acclaimed critical theorist.

Culp also was my torts professor. As I tell students today, at that time, I didn't well understand Culp's MO. I suffered the common 1L affliction of wanting to know just what I needed to know. I yet saw law as learnable vocation, not profession, law school as mere trade school, not intellectual engagement with law and society. Culp didn't seem to be doing his part to make me a billboard attorney who could litigate a car accident.

I got past those hurdles. In time, I had the immeasurable good fortune of knowing Culp as a fellow academic. I came to understand that his 1L pedagogy was a cleverly subtle and seductive inculcation in critical theory. I came to appreciate him as one of my best law professors. His pedagogy powerfully shaped my approach to teaching torts, not to mention thinking about law and society in general. Culp is one of three academics to whom my Tortz textbook is dedicated.

The start of the Chang lecture video (from 2:05 to 7:50 at Panopto; YouTube cued and embedded below) features Professor Culp himself, some 20 years ago, complemented by affecting images, talking about his own life and how it motivated him to study and teach law.

To be clear, I'm not wholly in agreement with Chang on the merits of his talk, even if Culp might have been. Chang concludes that the U.S. Supreme Court decision contra affirmative action in 2023 represents an "intensification" of white racial identity and resurgent white supremacy. Chang's conclusion contains a kernel of concerning merit, but also provocatively overstates the matter.

I rather agree with what Professor Josh Blackman told an ABA program on viewpoint diversity at the Midyear Meeting in Louisville, Ky., last week: there has to be room to express a view of what the Fourteenth Amendment means, even if contra the acceptable "woke" ideology, without being branded "racist." 

Critical theory to me is, let's say, critical for exposing fault lines in our society that run contrary to our values and demand remediation. Accordingly, critical approaches form vital threads in my teaching.

But critical race theory does more harm than good when it muddies the distinction between malevolent racism and systemic inequality. And many adherents to critical theory (not necessarily Chang or Culp) go a dangerous measure further, encouraging generalizations about persons' intentions based on their skin color. I can't sign on to that.

Nevertheless, that some critical perspectives sit poorly with me doesn't mean we should avoid discussing them. Chang's lecture is a superb and coherent survey of race and American history with thought provoking implications for our time.

A nephew of mine (as a matter of fact, a young man who is racially Korean and grew up in small-town America) recently suggested to me that adults of my (13th) generation can sometimes be wrong.

I'm considering the possibility.

Mass. high court nominee brings tort law experience

Justice Wolohojian
Mass.gov

Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey Wednesday announced the nomination of Massachusetts Appeals Court Justice Gabrielle R. Wolohojian to the Supreme Judicial Court. 

UPDATE, Feb. 29: The justice was confirmed

Justice Wolohojian practiced with Big Law on "product liability cases, consumer class actions, false advertising claims, and other business and consumer transactions," according to her official bio. Governor Deval Patrick appointed her to the Appeals Court in 2008. She has a Ph.D. from Oxford and a J.D. from Columbia.

For Law360 (subscription), Julie Manganis reported as well:

Outside her legal work, Justice Wolohojian is ... a violinist who has performed with the Boston Civic Symphony for 35 years, and has served as president of the organization's board. She also serves as an overseer of a radio program called "From the Top," which features children performing classical music.

Justice Wolohojian has authored several Appeals Court opinions that I've featured here on The Savory Tort, all sound.

• Motel not liable for guest's suicide, court rules, despite family warning of risk, asking for room number (Sept. 2, 2022)
• Flawed instruction on 'reasonable alternative design' requires vacatur of tobacco defense judgment (July 20, 2022)
• Gruesome bone-in-burger case: verdict remanded for reconsideration of 'reptile,' 'golden rule' arguments (Nov. 7, 2019)
• Best friend of teen struck, killed by train may claim negligence without physical injury, appeals court rules (Sept. 16, 2019)

There's been a fuss in the media over Justice Wolohojian once having been in a long-term relationship with the Governor. The relationship ended before the Governor was elected, and she is now with another partner. Governor Healey said nothing about the issue in the nomination announcement. Law360 and other media have reported that the bar and executive officials are "shrug[ging] off" the personal relationship as immaterial. I concur; Justice Wolohojian's bona fides are unimpeachable.

UPDATE, Feb. 29: 

Yesterday the justice was confirmed 6-1 by the Governor's Council. For Law360, Julie Manganis reported of the dissenting vote:

The lone member who voted against Justice Wolohojian, District 8 Councilor Tara Jacobs, said she still has "some concerns around the recusal situation," but said she was also troubled by the selection process, calling it "insular."

From an inclusion standpoint, it just felt very exclusionary in that you couldn't have a more insider nominee," said Jacobs, "and so I have concerns about that in terms of how it might dissuade people from applying who are not inside a network like that."

Jacobs also said she had another concern after meeting with Justice Wolohojian.

"My perception is she has breathed rarefied air from the time she was young, [in] her education and through her career, and my perception from that is she intellectualizes the marginalized community's struggle in a way that feels very much like a bubble of privilege and detached from the struggle itself, so I do have a concern whether justice is best represented through that lens," Jacobs said.

Mass. High Court Nominee Who Dated Gov. Confirmed 6-1 (Feb. 28, 2024) (subscription).

Criminal verdict in Mich. school shooting suggests parent vulnerability to civil negligence claims

2018 National School Walkout
Public domain via Rawpixel

The criminal conviction of gun-owning parent Jennifer Crumbley yesterday in the 2021 school shooting in Oxford, Mich., (e.g., USA Today via Courier Journal) got me thinking about parents' exposure to civil liability.

There's no question that parents of a minor-age school shooter can be held liable indirectly for injuries and deaths upon a theory such as negligent storage or entrustment of a firearm. There have been many civil lawsuits arising from school shootings upon analogous negligence theories leveled against school officials, police, gun sellers, and gun manufacturers.

What I do not know is whether there ever has been a civil verdict against a parent. A civil liability theory follows naturally upon a criminal conviction. But criminal prosecution of parents in these cases has been exceedingly rare, Crumbley's being the first such conviction.

Without the beyond-a-reasonable-doubt standard having been proved already in a criminal case, the civil negligence case presents daunting hurdles in duty and proximate causation. It's never easy to hold an earlier-in-time actor liable in negligence for the intentional criminal conduct of a later actor, whom judge and jury are likely to regard as a superseding cause. Such claims are not infrequent, though, and plaintiffs keep bringing them, because intentional criminal actors tend to lack assets that would make a plaintiff whole.

Brendan Pierson for Reuters reported a rundown in 2022 of civil actions in major school shootings: Uvalde, Texas; Columbine, Colo.; Red Lake, Minn.; Blacksburg, Va.; Newtown, Conn.; Parkland, Fla.; and Santa Fe, Texas. Claims that have been resolved so far have ended with settlements or defense verdicts.

Among those cases, Pierson mentioned claims against parents only in the report on the 2018 shooting in Santa Fe, Texas. In 2023, plaintiffs in the Santa Fe case settled with ammunition retailer Luckygunner (AP). The latest report I can find on the case against the parents, from the Daily News of Galveston County, Texas, said in December 2023 that the negligence case against the parents of Dimitrios Pagourtzis remains on the trial court docket.

Please comment here if you know of a civil verdict or settlement against parents in a school shooting case. I would be curious to know also whether homeowner insurers have covered or not covered in such cases.

Baltimore contractor, WWII infantry vet turns 100

© Used with permission.

Pete, a retired Baltimore, Md., contractor, WWII veteran, and my great uncle, turns 100 today, February 7.

Upon graduation from high school in Baltimore City in 1943, Pete was drafted into the 9th Infantry Division of the U.S. Army ("the Notorious Ninth"). He served in Europe for four years, remaining for several months after VE Day. He was awarded a Silver Star and Purple Heart and discharged as a second lieutenant.

Before Pete came home from Europe, he was able to visit family in Italy. About four decades later, he joined me for a trip to visit our cousins there again. In the electronic age, I've served as go-between for trans-Atlantic updates.

© RJ Peltz-Steele

Pete came home from the war to marry my great aunt, Velma, and to build a construction business in Baltimore. They started a family. Throughout their active years, Pete and Velma volunteered vigorously in Baltimore's Italian-American community, raising money for scholarships.

Pete retired to a quiet life of golf, reading, and doting grand-parenting in Baltimore County. We celebrated Sunday.

AI can make law better and more accessible; it won't

Gencraft AI image

Artificial intelligence is changing the legal profession, and the supply of legal services is growing even more disconnected from demand.

The latter proposition is my assessment, but experts agreed at a national bar conference last week that AI will change the face of legal practice for attorneys and clients, as well as law students and professors.

Lexis and Westlaw each recently launched a generative AI product, Lexis+ AI Legal Assistant and AI-Assisted Research on Westlaw Precision. One might fairly expect that these tools will make legal work faster and more efficient, which in turn would make legal services accessible to more people. I fear the opposite will happen.

The endangered first-year associate. The problem boils down to the elimination of entry-level jobs in legal practice. Panelists at The Next Generation and the Future of Business Litigation conference of the Tort Trial Insurance Practice Section (TIPS) of the American Bar Association (ABA) at the ABA Midyear Meeting in Louisville, Kentucky, last week told audience members that AI now performs the work of first- and second-year associates in legal practice.

The change might or might not be revolutionary. Popular wisdom routinely describes generative AI as a turning point on the evolutionary scale. But panelists pointed out that legal research has seen sea change before, and the sky did not fall. Indeed, doomsayers once predicted the end of responsible legal practice upon the very advent of Lexis and Westlaw in displacement of books and paper—a transformation contemporary with my career. Law practice adapted, if not for the better in every respect.

It's in the work of junior attorneys that AI is having the greatest impact now. It can do the background legal research that a senior lawyer might assign to a junior lawyer upon acquisition of a new client or case. AI also can do the grunt work on which new lawyers cut their teeth, such as pleadings, motions, and discovery.

According to (aptly named) Oregon attorney Justice J. Brooks, lawyers are under huge pressure from clients and insurers to use AI, regardless of the opportunity cost in bringing up new attorneys. Fortune 500 companies are demanding that AI be part of a lawyer's services as a condition of retention. The corporate client will not pay for the five hours it takes an associate to draft discovery requests when AI can do it in 1.5.

Observers of law and technology, as well as the courts, have wrung their hands recently amid high-profile reports of AI-using lawyers behaving badly, for example, filing briefs citing sources that do not exist. Brooks said that a lawyer must review with a "critical eye" the research memorandum that AI produces. Insofar as there have been ethical lapses, "we've always had the problem of lawyers not reading cases," Illinois lawyer Jayne R. Reardon observed.

Faster and cheaper, but not always better, AI. There's the rub for newly minted associates: senior lawyers must bring the same scrutiny to bear on AI work that they bring to the toddling memo of the first-year associate. And AI works faster and cheaper.

Meanwhile, AI performs some mundane tasks better than a human lawyer. More than cutting corners, AI sometimes sees a new angle for interrogatories in discovery, Brooks said. Sometimes AI comes up with an inventive compromise for a problem in mediation, Kentucky attorney Stephen Embry said. AI can analyze dialogs to trace points of agreements and disagreement in negotiation, Illinois lawyer Svetlana Gitman reported.

AI does a quick and superb job on the odd request for boilerplate, North Carolina attorney Victoria Alvarez said. For example, "I need a North Carolina contract venue clause." And AI can organize quickly large data sets, she said, generating spreadsheets, tables, and graphics.

What AI cannot yet do well is good jobs news for senior lawyers and professors such as me: AI cannot make complex arguments, Brooks said. In fact, he likes to receive AI-drafted memoranda from legal opponents. They're easily recognizable, he said, and it's easy to pick apart their arguments, which are on par with the sophistication of a college freshman.

Similarly, Brooks said, AI is especially bad at working out solutions to problems in unsettled areas of law. It is confused when its training materials—all of the law and most of the commentary on it—point in different directions. 

In a way, AI is hampered by its own sweeping knowledge. It has so much information that it cannot readily discern what is important and what is not. A lawyer might readily understand, for example, that a trending theory in Ninth Circuit jurisprudence is the peculiar result of concurring philosophical leanings among involved judges and likely will be rejected when the issue arises in the Fifth Circuit, where philosophical leanings tend to the contrary. AI doesn't see that. That's where human insight still marks a peculiar distinction—for now, at least, and until I retire, I hope.

It's that lack of discernment that has caused AI to make up sources, Brandeis Law Professor Susan Tanner said. AI wants to please its user, Oregon lawyer Laura Caldera Loera explained. So if a lawyer queries AI, "Give me a case that says X," AI does what was asked. The questioner presumes the case exists, and the AI follows that lead. If it can't find the case, it extrapolates from known sources. And weirdly, as Tanner explained it, "[AI] wants to convince you that it's right" and is good at doing so.

Client confidences. The panelists discussed other issue with AI in legal practice, such as the importance of protecting client confidences. Information fed into an open AI in asking a question becomes part of the AI's knowledge base. A careless lawyer might reveal confidential information that the AI later discloses in response to someone else's different query.

Some law firms and commercial services are using closed AIs to manage the confidentiality problem. For example, a firm might train a closed AI system on an internal bank of previously drafted transactional documents. Lexis and Westlaw AIs are trained similarly on the full data sets of those proprietary databases, but not, like ChatGPT, on the open internet—Pornhub included, clinical psychologist Dan Jolivet said.

But any limited or closed AI system is then limited correspondingly in its ability to formulate responses. And closed systems still might compromise confidentiality around ethical walls within a firm. Tanner said that a questioner cannot instruct AI simply to disregard some information; such an instruction is fundamentally contrary to how generative AI works.

Law schools in the lurch.  Every panelist who addressed the problem of employment and training for new lawyers insisted that the profession must take responsibility for the gap that AI will create at the entry level. Brooks said he pushes back, if sometimes futilely, on client demands to eliminate people from the service chain. Some panelists echoed the tantalean promise of billing models that will replace the billable hour. But no one could map a path forward in which there would be other than idealistic incentives for law firms to hire and train new lawyers.

And that's a merry-go-round I've been on for decades. For the entirety of my academic career, the bar has bemoaned the lack of "practice ready" lawyers. And where have practitioners placed blame? Not on their bottom-line-driven, profit-making business models, but on law schools and law professors.

And law schools, under the yoke of ABA accreditation, have yielded. The law curriculum today is loaded with practice course requirements, bar prep requirements, field placement requirements, and pro bono requirements. We have as well, of course, dedicated faculty and administrative positions to meet these needs.

That's not bad in of itself, of course. The problem arises, though, in that the curriculum and staffing are zero-sum games. When law students load up on practice-oriented hours, they're not doing things that law students used to do. When finite employment lines are dedicated to practice roles, there are other kinds of teachers absent who used to be there.

No one pauses to ask what we're missing.

My friend and mentor Professor Andrew McClurg, retired from the University of Memphis, famously told students that they should make the most of law school, because for most of them, it would be the last time in their careers that they would be able to think about the law.

Take the elective in the thing that stimulates your mind, McClurg advised students (and I have followed suit as an academic adviser). Explore law with a not-nuts-and-bolts seminar, such as law and literature or international human rights. Embrace the theory and philosophy of law—even in, say, your 1L torts class.

When, like my wife once was, you're a legal services attorney struggling to pay on your educational debt and have a home and a family while trying to maintain some semblance of professional responsibility in managing an impossible load of 70 cases and clients pulling 24/7 in every direction, you're not going to have the luxury of thinking about the law.

Profit machines. What I learned from law's last great leap forward was that the "profession" will not take responsibility for training new lawyers. Lawyer salaries at the top will reach ever more for the heavens, while those same lawyers demand ever more of legal education, and of vastly less well compensated legal educators, to transform and give of themselves to be more trade school and less graduate education.

Tanner put words to what the powers-that-be in practice want for law schools to do with law students today: "Train them so that they're profitable."  In other words, make billing machines, not professionals.

Insofar as that has already happened, the result has been a widening, not narrowing, of the gap between supply and demand for legal services. Wealthy persons and corporations have the resources to secure bespoke legal services. They always will. In an AI world, bespoke legal services means humans capable of discernment and complex argument, "critical eyes." 

Ordinary people have ever less access to legal services. What law schools have to do is expensive, and debt-burdened students cannot afford to work for what ordinary people are able to pay.

A lack of in-practice training and failure of inculcation to law as historic profession rather than workaday trade will mean more lawyers who are minimally, but not more, competent; lawyers who can fill out forms, but not conceive new theories; lawyers who have been trained on simulations and pro bono hours, but were never taught or afforded an opportunity to think about the law. 

These new generations of lawyers will lack discernment. They will not be able to make complex arguments or to pioneer understanding in unsettled areas of law. They will be little different from and no more capable than the AIs that clients pay them to access, little better than a human equivalent to a Staples legal form pack.

These lawyers will be hopelessly outmatched by their bespoke brethren. The ordinary person's lawyer will be employed only because the economically protectionist bar will forbid direct lay access to AI for legal services.

The bar will comprise two tribes: a sparsely populated sect of elite lawyer-professionals, and a mass of lawyer-tradespeople who keep the factory drums of legal education churning out form wills and contracts to keep the rabble at bay.

The haves and the have nots. 

It's a brave new world, and there is nothing new under the sun.

The first ABA TIPS panel comprised Victoria Alvarez, Troutman Pepper, Charlotte, N.C., moderator; Laura Caldera Loera and Amanda Bryan, Bullivant Houser Bailey, Portland, Ore.; Professor Susan Tanner, Louis D. Brandeis School of Law, Louisville, Ky.; and Justice J. Brooks, Foster Garvey, Portland, Ore. The second ABA TIPS panel referenced here comprised Svetlana Gitman, American Arbitration Association-International Center for Dispute Resolution, Chicago, Ill., moderator; Stephen Embry, EmbryLaw LLC and TechLaw Crossroads, Louisville, Ky.; Reginald A. Holmes, arbitrator, mediator, tech entrepreneur, and engineer, Los Angeles, Cal.; and Jayne R. Reardon, Fisher Broyles, Chicago, Ill.

Naming rape suspects may draw criminal charges for journalists under Northern Ireland privacy law

Bernard Goldbach via Flickr CC BY 2.0

In Northern Ireland, it's a crime for a journalist to identify a rape suspect.

The relevant provision of the country's Justice (Sexual Offences and Trafficking Victims) Act 2022. Attorney Fergal McGoldrick of Carson McDowell in Belfast detailed the law for The International Forum for Responsible Media Blog in October 2023, just after the law took effect.

The law applies to a range of sexual offenses including rape. The prohibition expires upon an arrest warrant, criminal charge, or indictment. If prosecution does not expire the prohibition on identification, it remains in force until 25 years after the death of the suspect. The act amended preexisting privacy law to afford comparable anonymity to victims.

I have deep experience with this issue, and it is fraught. Despite my strong preference for transparency in government, especially in policing, the law has merit.

I was a university newspaper editor back in ye olden days of paper and ink. My newspaper reported vigorously on accusations of sexual assault against a student at our university by a student at a nearby university. The accusations and ensuing criminal investigation gripped the campus.

We learned the identity of both suspect and accuser. We reported the former and concealed the latter. Discussing the matter as an editorial board, we were uncomfortable with this disparity. Having the suspect be a member of our own community and the accuser an outsider amplified our sensitivity to a seeming inequity. We did take measures to minimize use of the suspect's name in the reporting.

These were the journalistic norms of our time. Naming the accuser was unthinkable. This was the era of "the blue dot woman," later identified as Patricia Bowman (e.g., Seattle Times). The nation was enthralled by her allegation of rape against American royalty, William Kennedy Smith. In the 1991 televised trial, Bowman, a witness in court, was clumsily concealed by a floating blue dot, the anonymizing technology of the time.

Smith was acquitted. The case was a blockbuster not only for TV news, but for journalism, raising a goldmine of legal and ethical issues around criminal justice reporting and cameras in the courtroom.

There was no anonymity for Smith. I went to a Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) conference around this time, and the issues were discussed in a huge plenary session in a ballroom. The crowd exuded self-loathing for the trauma journalism itself had piled on Bowman. Objectivity be damned, many speakers beat the drums for the pillorying of the acquitted Smith.

The calculation in journalism ethics with regard to Smith, and thus to my editorial board, was that police accountability, knowing whom is being investigated, charged, or detained, and public security, alerting the public to a possible threat, or eliciting from the public exonerating evidence, all outweighed the risk of reputational harm that reporting might cause to the accused. Moreover, ethicists of the time reasoned, it would be paternalistic to assume that the public doesn't understand the difference between a person accused and a person convicted.

Then, in my campus case, the grand jury refused to indict. Our reporting uncovered evidence that the accusation might have been exaggerated or fabricated.

Our editorial hearts sank. Had we protected the wrong person?

My co-editor and I discussed the case countless times in the years that followed. We agonized. It pains me still today. Thirty years later, I find myself still retracing the problem, second-guessing my choices. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure where you feel like you're making the right choice each time you turn the pages, yet your steps lead you inevitably to doom.

Idealistically committed as we were at that age to freedom-of-information absolutism, we were inclined to the anti-paternalistic argument and reasoned that probably we should have named everyone from the start and let the public sort it out.

In our defense, a prior and more absolutist generation of norms in journalism ethics prevailed at the time. I was there at SPJ in the following years as leading scholars worked out a new set of norms, still around today, that accepts the reality of competing priorities and evinces more flexible guidance, such as, "minimize harm." Absolutism yielded to nuance. Meanwhile, the internet became a part of our lives, and both publication and privacy were revolutionized.

So in our present age, maybe the better rule is the Northern Ireland rule: anonymize both sides from the start. 

I recognize that there is a difference in a free society between an ethical norm, by which persons decide not to publish, and a legal norm, which institutes a prior restraint. I do find the Northern Ireland rule troublesomely draconian. The law would run headlong into the First Amendment in the United States. Certainly, I am not prepared to lend my support to the imprisonment of journalists.

Yet the problem with the leave-it-to-ethics approach is that we no longer live in a world in which mass media equate to responsible journalism. From where we sit in the internet era, immersed in the streaming media of our echo chambers, the SPJ Code of Ethics looks ever more a relic hallowed by a moribund belief system.

In Europe, the sophisticated privacy-protective regime of the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is more supportive than the U.S. First Amendment of the Northern Ireland approach. The UK continues to adhere to the GDPR regime since Brexit. The GDPR reflects the recognition in European law of privacy and data protection as human rights, to be held in balance with the freedoms of speech and press. Precisely this balance was at issue in 2022, in Bloomberg LP v. ZXC, in which the UK Supreme Court concluded that Bloomberg media were obligated to consider a suspect's privacy rights before publishing even an official record naming him in a criminal investigation.

McGoldrick wrote "that since Bloomberg most media organisations have, save in exceptional circumstances, elected not to identify suspects pre-charge, thus affording editors the discretion to identify a suspect, if such identification is in the public interest."

Maybe the world isn't the worse for it.