The Interaction of Exhaustion and the General Law: A Reply to Duffy and Hynes

In Statutory Domain and the Commercial Law of Intellectual Property,[1] Professors John Duffy and Richard Hynes argue that exhaustion—the doctrine that limits a patentee’s or copyright holder’s control over goods in the stream of commerce—was created and functions to confine Intellectual Property (“IP”) law within its own domain and prevent it from displacing other laws. Exhaustion, in their description, sets aside a space that other areas of the law, such as contracts and property, are left to regulate.

Like Duffy and Hynes, we believe that the intersection of IP and commercial law is an important topic with serious ramifications that would benefit from more scholarly attention, so we welcome their contribution to the ongoing debate over exhaustion. It is a debate in which the three of us have been deeply engaged, and one in which we rarely find ourselves entirely aligned.[2] However, when it comes to many of Duffy and Hynes’s fundamental insights about the relationship between IP and other areas of law, we not only agree with each other, we also agree with them. And we suspect most scholars engaged in the exhaustion debate would as well. Like Duffy and Hynes, the scholarly consensus acknowledges that other areas of law—most notably contracts—have a role to play in structuring transactions even when exhaustion limits copyright and patent exclusivity. IP law does not and should not exist in a vacuum. It must take into account the rights and obligations established under other bodies of law.

So far so good. But Duffy and Hynes make broader claims about the origins of exhaustion and its relationship to other bodies of law. That is where we part ways. They argue that the desire to confine IP law within its own domain and prevent it from displacing other laws is the exclusive explanation for both the emergence of exhaustion and its current function. In doing so they reject the idea that courts developed exhaustion in light of long-standing common law principles. Acknowledging the common law origins of the doctrine, they suggest, requires courts to wield exhaustion as a bludgeon, pummeling any commercial law doctrine that stands in its way.

In this Essay, we explain why we are not persuaded. We first discuss the role of the common law in shaping the exhaustion doctrine. We show that the evidence Duffy and Hynes offer is inconclusive, incomplete, and at times inaccurate. Close examination of early exhaustion cases paints a more complex picture that cannot be squared with the idea that exhaustion was created independently of common law principles. Next, we explain how Duffy and Hynes mischaracterize the prevailing scholarly understanding of exhaustion and how the approach they advocate would strip exhaustion of any normative content. While we agree that exhaustion draws a line between the domain of IP law and other laws and thus prevents the former from displacing the latter, the placement of that line is far from arbitrary, and has always reflected policy considerations. Finally, we note that Duffy and Hynes’s theory oversimplifies the relationship between IP law and state law, partly because it does not fully consider federal preemption.

I. The Common Law and The Emergence of Exhaustion

Did the common law play a role in the emergence of exhaustion? Duffy and Hynes vigorously argue it did not. But in reaching that conclusion, they largely ignore a line of early exhaustion decisions that invoke common law principles. And they struggle to square their approach with the Supreme Court’s most recent copyright exhaustion decision—in their own words, “one of the most important decisions on the commercial law of [intellectual property]”[3]—that described exhaustion as “a common-law doctrine with an impeccable historic pedigree.”[4]

Duffy and Hynes insist the common law played no part in the creation of exhaustion; the doctrine is a matter of statutory interpretation and nothing else. Our claim is modest by comparison. We argue that the common law did play an important role. But unlike Duffy and Hynes, we don’t see the common law and statutory interpretation as incompatible. Courts are not forced to either faithfully interpret statutes, or alternatively exercise “a free ranging power to create federal common law.”[5] We instead argue that courts rely on existing common law principles in choosing between competing statutory interpretations. Framing the alternative as a power to fabricate federal common law conjures up an activist bogeyman when in fact, the courts that developed the principle of exhaustion followed a well-trodden judicial path of erring on the side of the common law.

As Duffy and Hynes point out, statutory interpretation is not confined to the text alone.[6] Courts must look to—among a range of sources—other bodies of existing law. This is especially true when a statute is enacted against an existing body of common law. When Congress legislates in an area “previously governed by the common law,” courts must start from the assumption “that Congress intended to retain the substance of the common law.”[7] Where the courts have already spoken, “Congress does not write upon a clean slate.”[8] If Congress wants to depart from common law principles, the statute “must ‘speak directly’ to the question.”[9] That canon of construction is as old as Congress itself[10] and is still accepted today.[11]

Bobbs-Merrill Co. v. Straus demonstrates this point.[12] There the Supreme Court had to decide whether the copyright owner’s right to “vend” gave it control over just the first authorized sale or extended to subsequent sales too. The Court limited the right to “vend” to the first sale.[13] Many scholars and subsequent courts explain that choice as at least partly motivated by common law principles—in particular those favoring the free alienability of personal property and reflecting skepticism of servitudes on chattels.[14] We agree with Duffy and Hynes that the text of the opinion does not compel that reading; the Court did not explicitly invoke the common law. But neither did it explain exhaustion as a bulwark against copyright law encroaching upon the “commercial law generally,” as Duffy and Hynes argue.[15]

As such, Bobbs-Merrill does not contradict the consensus view that centuries-old common law principles played an important role in the creation of exhaustion. Bobbs-Merrill might not have made the connection explicit, but when read together with other contemporaneous decisions, the link between the emergence of exhaustion and those common law principles becomes apparent. In this short Essay we cannot explore every contemporaneous opinion that explicitly or implicitly used common law principles in constructing exhaustion, but in the next few paragraphs we would like to point to a few of them.[16]

Consider, for example, Doan v. American Book Co.,[17] one of the decades-long line of copyright exhaustion cases that culminated in Bobbs-Merrill. In that decision the Seventh Circuit held that a purchaser of a book could repair and restore it notwithstanding the copyright holder’s objections. The decision was not rooted in any statutory text, but in the intrinsic nature of personal property rights, as the court explained: “It would be intolerable and odious” to deny that a “right of ownership in the book carries with it and includes the right to maintain” it.[18]

To take another example, the same year the U.S. Supreme Court decided Bobbs-Merrill, the Australian High Court interpreted the term “vend” in that country’s patent statute.[19] The High Court, in light of “the recognized rule that the legislature is not to be taken to have made a change in the fundamental principles of the common law without express and clear words announcing such an intention,” concluded that the right to vend did “not refer to any sale of the article after it has once, without violation of the monopoly, became part of the common stock.”[20] On appeal the Privy Council reversed, focusing on the need to reconcile the apparent inconsistency between the common law principles and the patent statute. The U.S. Supreme Court would rely on this judgment a year later in Henry v. A.B. Dick Co.,[21] and courts continue to cite it, including the Federal Circuit in an important 2016 patent exhaustion decision.[22]

This brings us to the early twentieth century Supreme Court patent exhaustion case law. In 1912, in Henry, the Court held that patentees could impose restraints on downstream purchasers and that “[t]here is no collision between the rule against restrictions upon the alienation or use of chattels not made under the protection of a patent and the right of the patentee through his control over his invention.”[23] Duffy and Hynes describe the disagreement between the majority and dissent in Henry as “primarily about the scope or domain of the patent statute, not about common law policies.”[24] But, read in context, it is clear that the common law baseline, and whether Congress intended to deviate from it, was one of the key points of contention in a rather bitter division among the Justices.

Both the majority and the dissent in this long decision relied heavily not just on the statutory language and existing precedent, but also on general legal principles and on the need to promote public policy goals. Writing for the dissent, Chief Justice White raised concerns regarding the expansive reading of patentees’ rights. His views were partly rooted in the common law. For example, he noted that the various forms in which patentees purported to extend their control “tend to increase monopoly and to burden the public to the exercise of their common rights.”[25] In another place, the dissent chastised the majority for not applying the rule that the Court had set forth a year earlier in Dr. Miles Medical Co. v. John D. Park & Sons Co.[26] In that decision the Court—relying explicitly and extensively on the common law aversion to restraints of trade—held that downstream control of nonpatented goods, in the form of a retail price maintenance scheme, was invalid.[27]

Chief Justice White’s dissenting views prevailed five years later when the Court explicitly reversed Henry.[28] The same day, in Straus v. Victor Talking Machine Co., another patent exhaustion case, the Court offered its most explicit early reference to the common law, stating that “[c]ourts would be perversely blind” if they failed to recognize restrictive patent licenses as an attempt “to sell property for a full price, and yet to place restraints upon its further alienation, such as have been hateful to the law from Lord Coke’s day to ours, because obnoxious to the public interest.”[29] Lord Coke is, of course, Edward Coke, one of the greatest common law jurists, whose opposition to restraints on trade influences exhaustion case law to this day.

A much more recent exhaustion case reinforces the point that even when the Court is undeniably engaged in statutory interpretation, the common law has informed its reasoning. In Kirtsaeng v. John Wiley & Sons, Inc.,[30] the question was whether the first sale doctrine embraced the importation and resale of books manufactured and lawfully sold abroad. Specifically, the case turned on the meaning of the phrase “lawfully made under this title.”[31] Despite the clearly statutory nature of the question, the majority described the first sale doctrine as one “with an impeccable historic pedigree” dating back to “the early 17th century.”[32] The Court relied on the fact that “[t]he common-law doctrine makes no geographical distinctions” to bolster its statutory reading.[33] And it emphasized the policy considerations disfavoring “restraints on the alienation of chattels” and embracing the “importance of leaving buyers of goods free to compete with each other when reselling or otherwise disposing of those goods.”[34] Those considerations, along with “§ 109(a)’s language, its context, and the common-law history of the ‘first sale’ doctrine, taken together, favor a non-geographical interpretation.”[35] The Court thus had no trouble reconciling the common law with statutory interpretation.

The Court’s approach in Kirtsaeng thus strongly reinforces our views and the consensus among scholars that the common law played a role in the development of exhaustion and thus challenges Duffy and Hynes’s rejection of that consensus. In discussing Kirtsaeng, Duffy and Hynes are forced to concede that the court was invoking a “‘canon of statutory interpretation’ disfavoring expansive readings of statutes that ‘invade the common law.’”[36] We are, however, unsure how that acknowledgement squares with their overall rejection of the consensus approach. In other words, we are puzzled by Duffy and Hynes’s failure to consider that other decisions, including those that established the core of IP exhaustion doctrine, were similarly relying on this centuries-old canon of interpretation.[37]

Duffy and Hynes make another claim to support their account of the emergence of exhaustion. They note that a number of early exhaustion decisions “disclaim any attempt to adjudicate the relief plaintiffs might obtain outside of IP law”[38] and argue that “[s]uch agnosticism about ultimate results would be difficult to explain if the Court were engaged in pure policymaking directed toward substantive goals.”[39] For example, in Bobbs-Merrill, the Court noted there was no contract claim before it.[40] Similarly, in Motion Picture Patents Co. v. Universal Film Manufacturing Co., the Court noted that whether the patentee can restrict the buyer “by special contract between the owner of the patent and a purchaser or licensee is a question outside the patent law and with it we are not here concerned.”[41]

We are unpersuaded that the courts were agnostic to the consequences or substance of post-sale restraints, and that their only concern was ensuring the correct legal form and forum for implementing them. We disagree with Duffy and Hynes for two reasons. First, reading the Court’s unsurprising failure to decide an issue that was not properly before it as a disavowal of the common law and other policy considerations is a leap we are unwilling to take. Second, a close examination of contemporaneous decisions reveals statements that are inconsistent with the agnosticism hypothesis. Rather than conveying agnosticism, those courts objected to certain contracts on substantive policy grounds and expressed skepticism as to their enforcement as a matter of general commercial law. For example, Chief Justice White, in his dissent in Henry, recognized that the validity of contractual post-sale restrictions ought to be governed by contract law. However, he noted that if not for the majority opinion, those contracts would be void as against public policy, asking rhetorically: “Who . . . can put a limit upon the extent of monopoly and wrongful restriction which will arise, especially if by such a power a contract which otherwise would be void as against public policy may be successfully maintained?”[42] That majority opinion was, as we already noted, short lived.

In Boston Store of Chicago v. American Graphophone Co., Chief Justice White, now writing for the majority, continued to express skepticism as to whether post-sale restrictions are enforceable under “general law.”[43] He explored the Court’s recent case law and concluded that

                                                                        [a]pplying the cases thus reviewed there can be no doubt that the alleged price-fixing contract disclosed in the certificate was contrary to the general law and void. There can be equally no doubt that the power to make it in derogation of the general law was not within the monopoly conferred by the patent law . . . .[44]

This statement, we believe, plainly indicates that the Court was not agnostic to the possibility of enforcing post-sale restrictions via contracts, as it perceived the contracts at issue as void under general law. Moreover, in relying on its recent case law—which included numerous IP exhaustion cases as well as Dr. Miles, which deals with nonpatented products—to reach this result, the Court indicated that it did not consider the rights under IP law and the rights under general law as completely separated, as Duffy and Hynes argue,[45] but as highly related.[46] As we further discuss below, the interaction between these two bodies of law is indeed complex.

In short, the arguments raised by Duffy and Hynes do not convince us that courts ignored well-established common law principles while developing exhaustion. We remain persuaded that the history of exhaustion shows that those principles played—and continue to play—a role in shaping the doctrine. Likewise, we reject their assertion that the courts showed no interest in public policy and specifically that the courts’ concern about post-sale restraints had nothing to do with the substance of those restraints.

II. The Normative Impact of Statutory Domain

Duffy and Hynes view exhaustion as exclusively a matter of statutory domain. That claim plays a dual role in their analysis. First, it contrasts their theory with what they describe as the prevailing wisdom about exhaustion’s relationship to other areas of law. But as we will describe, in drawing that distinction, Duffy and Hynes mischaracterize much of the prior exhaustion scholarship. Second, it restricts the ability of courts to consider broader policy goals, reducing the judicial function to identifying largely arbitrary triggers for exhaustion and stripping the doctrine of much of its normative content.

The consensus view among modern commentators, Duffy and Hynes suggest, leads to IP doctrine running roughshod over distinct bodies of law like contract and property. Exhaustion, they argue, is required to preserve these other areas of law undisturbed. Modern commentators, they say, hold very different beliefs. Skeptics of exhaustion want “complete freedom to contract around exhaustion.”[47] And exhaustion proponents see the doctrine as a “free ranging power”[48] to “allow or forbid a particular transaction.”[49] Many scholars, they tell us, “want the courts to forbid any circumvention[s]” of exhaustion.[50] Later, they claim that many of those same scholars view leases as “unjustified circumventions of the exhaustion doctrine.”[51] But they fail to cite any scholars who actually espouse these categorical views.

We do not think this characterization reflects the majority of scholarship on exhaustion. It certainly does not reflect our views. We believe that even if exhaustion applies, a valid agreement may often give rise to a claim of breach and contractual remedies.[52] Similarly, we believe that exhaustion does not forbid rights holders from offering products through genuine leases, rentals, or subscriptions.[53] Of course, not all attempts at licensing or contracting around exhaustion will succeed. In some instances they might be preempted or invalid for violating public policy, a decision that might be partly guided by some of the same policies that informed the development of exhaustion. But it is not our position, nor, we believe, the position of most modern commentators, that exhaustion necessarily or routinely undermines general commercial law. The contention that contract and property law can coexist with exhaustion is entirely consistent with the prevailing wisdom.

That is not to say that the argument put forward by Duffy and Hynes is without consequences. If courts adopt the view advocated by Duffy and Hynes, it would significantly limit the tools at their disposal for resolving pressing questions about the scope of exhaustion. Duffy and Hynes claim that exhaustion draws a formal line between what is regulated by IP law and what is not. As they admit, “formalist boundary lines are inherently arbitrary.”[54] As a result, their theory urges courts to ignore the impact of exhaustion on other policy goals. We find this outcome inconsistent with well-established practices, difficult to sustain, and undesirable.

Consider, for example, two contemporary exhaustion questions: the choice between international and national exhaustion and the applicability of the doctrine to digital distribution. As a matter of copyright law, the Supreme Court resolved the first of these questions when it adopted international exhaustion in Quality King Distributors, Inc. v. L’anza Research International, Inc.[55] and Kirtsaeng.[56] Most commentators agree that the text of the Copyright Act provides plausible arguments both for and against international exhaustion. The Court’s choice between them was not limited to a narrow examination of the Act; it also considered broader policy questions, including access to creative works,[57] “com­petition, including freedom to resell,”[58] judicial administrability,[59] and “basic constitutional copyright objectives.”[60]

The Federal Circuit recently provided a different answer to that question when it affirmed national patent exhaustion in Lexmark International, Inc. v. Impression Products, Inc.[61] Granted, both the majority and the dissent partly based their decisions on the language and the structure of the Patent Act, as compared to Kirtsaeng’s interpretation of the Copyright Act. However, both the majority and the dissent extensively addressed policy concerns. They analyzed how national and international exhaustion would affect certainty in the market, allow patentees to recoup their investments through price discrimination, might foster perpetual control over downstream distribution, and more.[62] Therefore, the Lexmark majority and dissent, like the Kirtsaeng majority and dissent, agree with the scholarly consensus that policy considerations play a vital role in interpreting and shaping exhaustion.

Digital distribution provides another example of the difficulty in understanding exhaustion as an “inherently arbitrary” line between IP law and general law, as Duffy and Hynes maintain,[63] because this view limits the ability of courts to adjust the scope of exhaustion over time and in response to changing conditions. The primary reason for the recent attention exhaustion has received is that modern markets are increasingly global and digital. As a result, those markets prompt questions about the ideal scope of IP rights and their exhaustion. The ability to apply long-standing IP doctrines to new technologies and market realities—as courts have done in various contexts[64]—depends on the recognition of broader principles. Those principles cannot flout statutory directives, of course, but they should not be ignored altogether either, when statutes lend themselves to more than one plausible meaning.[65]

Admittedly, Duffy and Hynes might see the elimination of the policy considerations as a feature, not a bug. If technological or market conditions alter the policy implications of exhaustion, they might argue that it is the task of Congress to weigh those concerns and enact a new statute. We agree that Congress could act, as it, from time to time, has acted.[66] And once Congress acts, courts would be bound to interpret the statute as faithfully as they can. But IP law regulates a fast moving technological world, and historically it has been the role of courts to help keep IP law up to speed. Moreover, when it comes to exhaustion, Congress has repeatedly signaled its acceptance of the judicial role in defining the broad contours of the doctrine.[67]

The theory offered by Duffy and Hynes has two primary normative implications. The first—that their theory avoids the trampling of commercial law by IP law—rests on a false premise. The bulk of the cases and commentary reveal that the IP-domination Duffy and Hynes fear is more specter than reality. The second implication—that courts should ignore policy considerations in favor of focusing solely on the statutory text—unnecessarily ties the hands of courts applying the exhaustion doctrine, even when no conflict between IP and commercial law is at stake. Below, we explore a final question left unresolved by Duffy and Hynes’s discussion on the interaction between exhaustion and commercial law—the role of preemption.

III. Exhaustion and State Law: The Preemption Problem

Duffy and Hynes claim that non-IP law was and should be taken into account in developing and applying exhaustion. We agree. In fact, when courts utilized the common law to develop exhaustion, they did just that. When Bobbs-Merrill was decided, more than forty years before the Uniform Commercial Code was created, commercial law was, in large part, the common law. From that perspective, the stark dichotomy Duffy and Hynes describe between “general commercial law,” which exhaustion was designed to preserve, and “the common law,” which was allegedly irrelevant, is more of a porous membrane. We also agree with Duffy and Hynes that non-IP laws have a role to play even when exhaustion limits the rights of copyright owners and patentees. That role should be considered when developing IP policy.[68]

Duffy and Hynes explore the interaction between exhaustion and other areas of commercial law that regulate secondary markets. This in-depth analysis can lead to important normative insights regarding the desirable scope of IP rights. It is indeed vital that IP commentators acknowledge the role of general commercial laws within IP policy. The contribution of Duffy and Hynes will surely advance that discussion. We want, however, to make two comments on the interaction between IP law and general commercial law.

First, this interaction is not limited to exhaustion. IP laws incorporate—but do not define—basic commercial terms, such as sale, license, assignment, or mortgage.[69] Federal IP laws rely on state law definitions of those terms.[70] This symbiosis between federal IP law and general commercial law cuts across many IP doctrines. Because each of those doctrines must be developed in tandem with state commercial law, it is hard to see why exhaustion should be singled out as a unique doctrine that is meant to preserve general commercial law, as Duffy and Hynes suggest. In some respects, this makes their analysis of the role of state law in regulating secondary markets even more valuable. It could serve as a model to explore similar interactions with other IP law doctrines.

Second, considering the interaction between federal IP law and state law requires a careful analysis of federal preemption, and in particular copyright preemption. Copyright preemption is a thorn in the side of the Duffy and Hynes theory. Exhaustion cannot be a doctrine that is purely designed to preserve other laws, such as contract and private property, if it might also preempt some of those other arrangements. However, federal IP law does not give state commercial law unlimited power to regulate secondary markets. While state law does generally regulate those markets,[71] the power of states to create certain legal regimes—for example, one that grants copyright owners a copyright-like exclusive right over the resale of copyrighted works—is limited by federal preemption law.

Duffy and Hynes make two arguments to prevent preemption from casting a shadow over their theory. First, they suggest that because exhaustion limits the scope of the exclusive rights under federal law, then rights created under state law to circumvent exhaustion are, by definition, not equivalent to rights under the Copyright Act, as required by § 301(a), its explicit preemption provision.[72] Second, they argue that “broad preemption arguments have had very little success in the courts”[73] following the Seventh Circuit decision in ProCD v. Zeidenberg.[74]

We find both arguments problematic. The main difficulty with their first argument is that it ignores the purpose and uniform interpretation of § 301(a). Limiting the scope of copyright preemption to the scope of the exclusive rights, as suggested by Duffy and Hynes, will allow states to interfere with federal policy in a way that is inconsistent with the purpose of the Act. For example, such an approach would give states carte blanche to regulate ideas, methods, and fair uses. This approach has been consistently rejected by courts. In fact, the Seventh Circuit rejected it in ProCD, stating that

[o]ne function of § 301(a) is to prevent states from giving special protection to works of authorship that Congress has decided should be in the public domain, which it can accomplish only if “subject matter of copyright” includes all works of a type covered by sections 102 and 103, even if federal law does not afford protection to them.[75]

The Sixth Circuit has similarly stated that “the shadow actually cast by the [Copyright] Act’s preemption is notably broader than the wing of its protection.”[76]

The second argument, which relies on ProCD, faces two weaknesses. First, while ProCD was adopted by several federal circuit courts, it is not the law of the land.[77] The Second Circuit, for example, refused to endorse it,[78] and the Sixth Circuit expressly rejected it.[79] Second, and more important, the argument that Duffy and Hynes make is significantly broader than the Seventh Circuit’s approach in ProCD. ProCD and its progeny deal exclusively with contractual rights. In fact, the distinction between property rights and contractual rights is the main rationale for those decisions.[80] Therefore, ProCD does not support the proposition that states are free to create any property-like arrangement they please with respect to information goods.

Again, our claim is not that IP law and policy necessarily trump any or even most state law claims and doctrines. We, however, maintain that courts do not and should not be categorically denied the opportunity to consider IP policy and preemption when a dispute touches on areas that are regulated by commercial law, including secondary markets. While commercial law should undoubtedly help shape IP law, preemption doctrine makes the relationship between exhaustion and other areas of the law more complex than Duffy and Hynes suggest.

Conclusion

The three of us do not always agree on the socially desirable scope of IP exhaustion. However, we do agree on the ways in which that scope should ideally be set. It should explore the justifications for exhaustion, examine how strong and applicable they are nowadays and going forward, study the effects it has on initial and secondary markets for copyrighted goods, and yes—consider other legal (as well as non-legal) ways to regulate those markets. The various competing interests and considerations should continue to inform the evolution of the law. Duffy and Hynes focus on one of these considerations, the role of general commercial law, and provide important insights about it. But focusing exclusively on that single consideration significantly narrows the perspective of what exhaustion is and what it should be. We find such an approach neither consistent with a century and a half of existing law nor advisable.

 

 


[1]John F. Duffy & Richard Hynes, Statutory Domain and the Commercial Law of Intellectual Property, 102 Va. L. Rev. 1, 1–2 (2016).

[2]See, e.g., Ariel Katz, The First Sale Doctrine and the Economics of Post-Sale Restraints, 2014 BYU L. Rev. 55, 55, 59–60 (2014); Aaron Perzanowski & Jason Schultz, Digital Exhaustion, 58 UCLA L. Rev. 889, 892 (2011); Guy A. Rub, Rebalancing Copyright Exhaustion, 64 Emory L.J. 741, 743–44 (2015).

[3]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 41.

[4]Kirtsaeng v. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 133 S. Ct. 1351, 1363 (2013).

[5]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 28.

[6]Id.

[7]Samantar v. Yousuf, 560 U.S. 305, 320 n.13 (2010); see Microsoft Corp. v. i4i Ltd. Partnership, 131 S. Ct. 2238, 2245–46 (2011); Isbrandtsen Co. v. Johnson, 343 U.S. 779, 783 (1952).

[8]United States v. Texas, 507 U.S. 529, 534 (1993).

[9]Id. (quoting Mobil Oil v. Higginbotham, 536 U.S. 618, 625 (1978)).

[10]Brown v. Barry, 3 U.S. (3 Dall.) 365, 367 (1797) (noting that an act “in derogation of the common law is to be taken strictly”); Theodore Sedgwick, The Interpretation and Construction of Statutory and Constitutional Law 267 (2d ed. 1874) (“[S]tatutes are not to be presumed to alter the common law farther than they expressly declare . . . .”). That treatise was broadly used by courts, including the Supreme Court, including at the time in which the principles of exhaustion were developed. See, e.g., Ca. Reduction Co. v. Sanitary Reduction Works, 199 U.S. 306, 324 (1905).

[11]Antonin Scalia & Bryan A. Garner, Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts 318 (2012) (“[S]tatutes will not be interpreted as changing the common law unless they effect the change with clarity.”).

[12]210 U.S. 339 (1908).

[13]Id. at 339–40.

[14]See, e.g., Herbert Hovenkamp, Post-Sale Restraints and Competitive Harm: The First Sale Doctrine in Perspective, 66 N.Y.U. Ann. Surv. Am. L. 487, 493–94 (2011); Christina Mulligan, A Numerus Clausus Principle for Intellectual Property, 80 Tenn. L. Rev. 235, 251 (2013); Aaron Perzanowski & Jason Schultz, Reconciling Intellectual and Personal Property, 90 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1211, 1249–52 (2015); John A. Rothchild, The Incredible Shrinking First-Sale Rule: Are Software Resale Limits Lawful?, 57 Rutgers L. Rev. 1, 12–13 (2004); Rub, supra note 2, at 759–62; Molly Shaffer Van Houweling, The New Servitudes, 96 Geo. L.J. 885, 910–14 (2008).

[15]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 8.

[16]See also Samuel F. Ernst, Why Patent Exhaustion Should Liberate Products (And Not Just People), Denver L. Rev. (forthcoming 2016) (manuscript at *21–*27) (on file with authors) (noting the role of the policy against servitudes on chattels in early patent exhaustion cases, as well as the impact of the single recovery and statutory domain theories).

[17]105 F. 772 (7th Cir. 1901).

[18]Id. at 777.

[19]See, e.g., Nat’l Phonograph Co. of Austl. Ltd. v. Menck (1908) 7 CLR 481 (Austl.), rev’d in part Nat’l Phonograph Co. of Austl. Ltd. v. Menck (1911) 12 CLR 15, 24 (Austl.) (holding that “the general doctrine of absolute freedom of disposal” can be restricted in the case of patented goods).

[20]Nat’l Phonograph Co. of Austl. Ltd. v. Menck (1908) 7 CLR 481, 512 (Austl.).

[21]224 U.S. 1 (1912).

[22]Lexmark Int’l, Inc. v. Impression Products, Inc., Nos. 2014–1617, 2014–1619, 2016 WL 559042 (Fed. Cir. Feb. 12, 2016) (en banc).

[23]Henry, 224 U.S. at 39.

[24]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 23.

[25]Henry, 224 U.S at 70 (White, C.J., dissenting) (emphasis added). The term “common rights” is synonymous with “common law rights.” See, e.g., Strother v. Lucas, 37 U.S. (12 Pet.) 410, 437 (1838) (“[The right] exists by a common right, which means a right by common law . . . .”).

[26]220 U.S. 373 (1911), cited in Henry, 224 U.S. at 54–55 (White, C.J., dissenting).

[27]Dr. Miles, 220 U.S. at 404 (citing the common law and holding that “a general restraint upon alienation is ordinarily invalid. ‘The right of alienation is one of the essential incidents of a right of general property in movables, and restraints upon alienation have been generally regarded as obnoxious to public policy.’” (quoting Park & Sons Co. v. Hartman, 153 F. 24, 39 (6th Cir. 1907)).

[28]Motion Picture Patents Co. v. Universal Film Mfg. Co., 243 U.S. 502, 518 (1917).

[29]243 U.S. 490, 500–01 (1917) (emphasis added).

[30]133 S. Ct. 1351 (2013).

[31]17 U.S.C. § 109(a) (2012).

[32]Kirtsaeng, 133 S. Ct. at 1363.

[33]Id.

[34]Id.

[35]Id. at 1358 (emphasis omitted).

[36]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 51 (quoting Kirtsaeng, 133 S. Ct. at 1363).

[37]See supra note 13.

[38]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 8.

[39]Id. at 12.

[40]Bobbs-Merrill, 210 U.S. at 346.

[41]243 U.S. 502, 509 (1917). It should be noted that later in the opinion the Court expressed deep concerns with legal mechanisms that allow patentees to exercise control over downstream usage, stating that “[t]he perfect instrument of favoritism and oppression which such a system of doing business, if valid, would put into the control of the owner of such a patent should make courts astute, if need be, to defeat its operation.” Id. at 515 (emphasis added). While the Court does not explicitly state that its concerns extend beyond a patent cause of action, we believe that if the Court were truly agnostic with respect to enforcing post-sale restrictions through contract law, it would not have used such strong language.

[42]Henry, 224 U.S at 70–71 (emphasis added).

[43]246 U.S. 8, 20 (1918).

[44]Id. at 25 (emphasis added).

[45]Cf. Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 27 (noting that the Boston Store Court “distinguishes between issues within the patent domain from those governed by “the general law ); id. at 28 (“[I]n creating the exhaustion doctrine, the Supreme Court did sharply distinguish statutory issues under federal IP laws from common law issues concerning contract and property.”).

[46]See also Boston Store, 246 U.S. at 20–21, 27.

[47]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 10.

[48]Id. at 28.

[49]Id. at 9.

[50]Id. at 10.

[51]Id. at 54.

[52]See, e.g., Perzanowski & Schultz, supra note 2, at 904–05, Rub, supra note 2, at 809–12. See also Ariel Katz, The Economic Rationale of Exhaustion: Distribution and Post-Sale Restraints, in Research Handbook on IP Exhaustion and Parallel Imports (Irene Calboli & Edward Lee eds., Edward Elgar 2016) (suggesting that the common law doctrine of restraint of trade could evolve to distinguish between valid and invalid contracting around exhaustion); Katz, supra note 2, at 90–100 (proposing some parameters to distinguish between valid and invalid instances of contracting around exhaustion).

[53]See, e.g., Perzanowski & Schultz, supra note 2, at 904 (“Copyright owners committed to price discrimination can avoid [exhaustion] by structuring transactions not as sales but as leases or subscription services.”). This does not mean, however, that right holders should be able to avoid exhaustion by merely labeling a sale or other transfer of ownership a “license.” Rub, supra note 2, at 814–16.

[54]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 36.

[55]523 U.S. 135, 152 (1998).

[56]133 S. Ct. at 1359.

[57]Quality King, 523 U.S. at 151 (noting, for example, that the plaintiff’s position in that case, promoting national exhaustion, “would merely inhibit access to ideas without any countervailing benefit”).

[58]Kirtsaeng, 133 S. Ct. at 1363.

[59]Id. (noting the “burden of trying to enforce restrictions upon difficult-to-trace, readily movable goods”).

[60]Id. at 1364–65 (noting the impact of national exhaustion on libraries and museums).

[61]Nos. 2014–1617, 2014–1619, 2016 WL 559042 (Fed. Cir. Feb. 12, 2016) (en banc).

[62]See, e.g., id. at *18–19 (discussing how patents provide “market-based reward” to the patentee and the problem of vagueness); id. at *25 (discussing the need to “incentivize creation and disclosure”); id. at *26 (discussing the social benefits from patentee’s ability to offer a menu of products); id. at *33–34 (discussing the practical effects of national exhaustion on the market and noting that “there is no concomitant risk of ‘perpetual downstream control’”); id. at *34–36 (discussing how exhaustion affects the patentees’ markets, income, and costs); id. at *44–45 (comparing certain aspects of the markets for copyrighted and patented goods and analyzing the impact of exhaustion regimes on those markets); id. at *58–59 (discussing the importance of allowing purchasers to compete, the effects of exhaustion on administrative costs, the need to allow free trade in goods embodying patented inventions, the impact on transaction costs and prices, and the role of international trade).

[63]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 36.

[64]There are numerous decisions that demonstrate this phenomenon. See, e.g., Am. Broad. Cos. v. Aereo, Inc., 134 S. Ct. 2498, 2503 (2014) (applying public performance policy to online streaming); Authors Guild, Inc. v. HathiTrust, 755 F.3d 87, 91–92 (2d Cir. 2014) (applying fair use to a mass digitalization project); Perfect 10, Inc. v. Amazon.com., 508 F.3d 1146, 1155–57 (9th Cir. 2007) (applying fair use to an online search engine).

[65]Twentieth Century Music Corp. v. Aiken, 422 U.S. 151, 156 (1975) (“When technological change has rendered its literal terms ambiguous, the Copyright Act must be construed in light of this basic purpose.”).

[66]See, e.g., Digital Millennium Copyright Act, Pub. L. No. 105-304, 112 Stat. 2860 (1998); Audio Home Recording Act of 1992, Pub. L. No. 102-563, 106 Stat. 4237.

[67]In 1909, Congress had “no intention [of] enlarg[ing] in any way the construction to be given to the word ‘vend.’” H.R. Rep. No. 60-2222, at 19 (1909). In 1976, Congress affirmed its intent to “restate[ ] and confirm[ ]” the first sale rule “established by the court decisions.” H.R. Rep. No. 94-1476, at 79 (1976), reprinted in 1976 U.S.C.C.A.N. 5659, 5693.

[68]Many have discussed the role of non-IP laws, as well as non-legal tools, in developing IP policy. See, e.g., William M. Landes & Richard A. Posner, The Economic Structure of Intellectual Property Law 23 (2003); Julie E. Cohen, Lochner in Cyberspace: The New Economic Orthodoxy of “Rights Management,” 97 Mich. L. Rev. 462, 464 (1998); Trotter Hardy, Property (and Copyright) in Cyberspace, 1996 U. Chi. Legal F. 217, 223–24.

[69]See, e.g., 17 U.S.C. § 101 (2012); 35 U.S.C. § 261 (2012).

[70]David Nimmer et al., The Metamorphosis of Contract into Expand, 87 Calif. L. Rev. 17, 24–29 (1999).

[71]And, in doing so, they take into account some of the policy considerations that are also reflected in exhaustion doctrine. For example, the Restatement of Contracts suggests that a contractual promise is unenforceable as a matter of state law “on grounds of public policy if it is unreasonably in restraint of trade,” Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 186 (Am. Law Inst. 1981), a policy that, as we have seen, played a role in the development of exhaustion as well.

[72]Duffy & Hynes, supra note 1, at 73–74.

[73]Id. at 74.

[74]86 F.3d 1447 (7th Cir. 1996).

[75]Id. at 1453.

[76]Wrench LLC v. Taco Bell Corp., 256 F.3d 446, 454 (6th Cir. 2001) (quoting United States ex rel. Berge v. Bd. of Trs. of Univ. of Ala., 104 F.3d 1453, 1463 (4th Cir. 1997)).

[77]See Guy A. Rub, Contracting Around Copyright: The Uneasy Case for Unbundling of Rights in Creative Works, 78 U. Chi. L. Rev. 257, 258 (2011).

[78]Forest Park Pictures v. Universal Television, 683 F.3d 424, 432 (2d Cir. 2012) (“In this case, we need not address whether preemption is precluded whenever there is a contract claim . . . .”).

[79]Wrench, 256 F.3d at 457–58 (“[W]e do not embrace the proposition that all state law contract claims survive preemption . . . .”).

[80]ProCD, 86 F.3d at 1454 (explaining that “rights created by contract” are not “equivalent to any of the exclusive rights within the general scope of copyright” because “[a] copyright is a right against the world. Contracts, by contrast, generally affect only their parties; strangers may do as they please, so contracts do not create ‘exclusive rights.’”).

A Modest Proposal for Justice Scalia’s Seat

The unexpected death of leading conservative Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia during the final year in office of liberal President Barack Obama has had a seismic effect on the political scene. Even before President Obama could nominate a replacement, members of both parties aggressively staked out contrary positions. Part of the acrimony is surely driven by the stakes: The Supreme Court has taken on an increasingly central role in our national life, and a lifetime appointment to the Court would reshape its direction for decades to come. The prospect of a lame duck President making a choice with such long term consequences as a result of the unanticipated death of one man naturally raises meaningful concerns. But the present crisis creates a real opportunity to revisit a harmful assumption about the Supreme Court that is driving the conflict. While lifetime tenure on the Supreme Court is commonly assumed to be required by the Constitution, the Constitution grants Congress substantial flexibility in structuring the judicial branch. Congress might use this flexibility creatively, to appoint judges who enjoy life tenure but spend only part of that tenure on the Supreme Court. President Obama would then be able to fill Justice Scalia’s seat without remaking the Court for decades to come. Even if this approach was ultimately unsuccessful, it would be an unusually constructive resolution of an otherwise difficult impasse.

As noted, the difficulty of the current partisan impasse is driven by the high stakes involved in an appointment to the Supreme Court. In recent years, the Supreme Court has decided a presidential election, [1] and rendered controversial, antimajoritarian decisions on the Suspension Clause [2] and First,[3] Second,[4] and Fourteenth[5] Amendments, among other constitutional provisions.[6] It is tempting to suggest that the stakes of appointments could and should be lowered by reducing the profile of the judicial branch. If fewer controversies were treated as constitutional questions for the courts, the staffing of the Supreme Court would be less important.[7] But this approach clearly depends on a particular view of the substance of the Constitution. If the Constitution is understood to impose certain judicially enforceable substantive rules (such as a rule that the government cannot interfere with a woman’s decision to have an abortion, or a rule that the government cannot interfere with independent political expenditures by corporations), then the Supreme Court cannot decline to render consequential and controversial decisions applying these rules without abdicating its duties.

In any event, even if it would be helpful for the Supreme Court to take less aggressive positions substantively, there seems to be no way for Congress or the President to credibly commit the Court to that course of action—even if nominees could be made to promise particularly narrow decisions, nothing would constrain their substantive decisions once they were on the Court.[8] Controlling the Supreme Court by limiting its jurisdiction would also be difficult under current constitutional understandings, particularly if the goal of these limitations was to prevent the Court from fulfilling its essential role in supervising the judicial enforcement of constitutional rights.[9]

But while it would be impossible to limit the consequences of a Supreme Court appointment substantively, it may be possible to limit the consequences temporally. Commentators have already remarked that an end to lifetime appointments to the Supreme Court would suck much of the air out of the fight over Justice Scalia’s replacement, before sadly stating that such a change would require a constitutional amendment.[10]

However, this sad qualification may not be correct. There is remarkably little textual evidence for the proposition that the Constitution requires that a judge who sits on the Supreme Court must be allowed to sit on the Supreme Court forever.[11] Article III, Section 1 of the Constitution vests the judicial power of the United States “in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish.”[12] It then provides that in order to sit on one of these courts, a judge must have life tenure: “The Judges, both of the supreme and inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behaviour.”[13] Article III itself does not specify that a judge must spend the entirety of that life tenure on one court. While the provision does refer to both “the supreme and inferior Courts,” it is easily read as a simple clarification that a judge must have life tenure to sit on a lower court as well.[14] The text thus allows for a statutory scheme providing for a judge with life tenure to sit on the Supreme Court only for a fixed term of years before resuming her judicial service on the inferior courts.

In other words, the boundaries between federal courts are a matter of statute and custom, not firm constitutional law. Indeed, the lines between the Supreme Court and inferior courts have always been understood as permeable. For much of the Supreme Court’s history, the Justices rode circuit, traveling about the country and deciding cases in the capacity of lower court judges. For example, the famous case of Ex parte Merryman,[15] (coincidentally, a case cited with approval by Justice Scalia[16]) was decided by Chief Justice Roger Taney alone in his capacity as a Justice riding circuit. The concept of life-tenured judges sitting on a particular court for only a fixed term is also not terribly novel. The judges designated to sit on the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court only hold that position for a period of seven years.[17]

Attempts to draw a sharp distinction between the Supreme Court and inferior courts using other parts of the constitutional text are also unpersuasive. The Appointments Clause of Article II specifies that the President

shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint . . . judges of the supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law: but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in the Heads of Departments.[18]

While this text may be read as drawing a distinction between “judges of the supreme Court” and other judges, it can also be read as a simple reflection of Congress’s authority to structure the judicial branch. Under the terms of the Madisonian Compromise, reflected in the text of Article III, Congress is free to not create any lower federal courts at all.[19] It should not be surprising that the staffing of these possible courts is left to the residual phrases in the Appointments Clause. The Constitution also refers separately to a “Chief Justice,”[20] but neither does this send a terribly informative signal; the Constitution also refers to a “Speaker”[21] of the House of Representatives and a “President pro tempore”[22] of the Senate, but those references are not understood to make those officers constitutionally distinct from their fellow representatives or senators.

Functional arguments against term limits fare little better. There is little reason to think that the quality of Justices available would decrease if a term limit of, say, eighteen years were imposed. There is some risk that a Justice approaching the end of her tenure might harbor ambitions for her later career and act accordingly, but that risk is already present under existing arrangements. Chief Justice John Jay clearly aspired to higher (or at least a different) office: He resigned his judicial position to become governor of New York.[23] Justice William O. Douglas harbored presidential aspirations, and very nearly became a vice presidential candidate.[24] It is even possible to speculate that Justice Scalia’s unusual concurrence in Gonzales v. Raich,[25] a decision favoring federal over state power, may have been motivated by a desire to one day be appointed Chief Justice. Life tenure is clearly not a check on ambition, or the incentives that ambition can create.

In sum, there is a credible argument that Congress could provide for a life-tenured judge to sit on the Supreme Court for a fixed term of years. This possibility offers a way out of the current impasse. The Senate could confirm President Obama’s nominee to replace Justice Scalia, after Congress had passed (and President Obama had signed) a statute providing that new appointees to the Supreme Court would sit only for a fixed term of years before resuming their judicial duties on other courts. President Obama would have the opportunity to reshape the Court’s direction for many years to come (but not many decades), and congressional Republicans would be able to reassure their constituents that they had found a responsible compromise that limited potentially harmful results. If the reform stuck, it would convert an unusually bitter impasse into an unusually salutary change.

Even if the arrangement were struck down, it could send a much needed message to the Supreme Court. As noted, it would be difficult for Congress to check the Supreme Court’s aggressive substantive rulings. But the Court has also been remarkably high handed in its dealings with the lower courts, sometimes refusing to hear appeals and provide guidance on crucial topics even when the lower courts have issued increasingly desperate pleas for instruction.[26] Congress has adopted a mechanism that is intended to address this situation. The Supreme Court is required by statute to resolve cases that are certified to them by the courts of appeals.[27] But without justification, the Supreme Court has consistently ignored this statutory duty.[28] A reminder that the judges who sit on the Supreme Court are not so different from other judges[29] might have an appropriate chastening effect. A statute of this type might also provide a framework for later efforts to make a lasting change to the Constitution.

This proposal is termed modest because it is unlikely to come to pass—the relevant individuals are set on a partisan collision course that is more likely to prove destructive than constructive. But like past modest proposals, it may shed light on an area in real need of lasting reform.

 


[1]See Bush v. Gore, 531 U.S. 98 (2000).

[2]See, e.g., Boumediene v. Bush, 553 U.S. 723 (2008).

[3]See, e.g., Citizens United v. Fed. Election Comm’n, 558 U.S. 310 (2010).

[4]See, e.g., District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570 (2008).

[5]See, e.g., Obergefell v. Hodges, 135 S. Ct. 2584 (2015); Fisher v. Univ. of Tex. at Austin, 133 S. Ct. 2411 (2013); Stenberg v. Carhart, 530 U.S. 914 (2000).

[6]Depending on the definition of “antimajoritarian,” the federalism revolution of recent years may also qualify. Some commentators have suggested that a decision that forbids the federal government from achieving a result is not antimajoritarian if the Court allows state-level majorities to achieve the same result. See Steven G. Calabresi, The Constitution and Disdain, 126 Harv. L. Rev. F. 13, 14 (2012). Sovereign immunity decisions that leave the states free to waive their protections, and decisions enforcing limits on the enumerated powers of Congress fall in this category.

[7]See Megan McArdle, Replacing a Justice Shouldn’t Be So Excruciating, Bloomberg View (Feb. 16, 2016, 4:39 PM), http://www.bloombergview.com/articles/2016-02-16/‌replac‌ing‌-a-justice-shouldn-t-be-so-excruciating [https://perma.cc/2A98-VCJK].

[8]Indeed, many nominees have offered a narrow vision of the proper role of a Supreme Court justice before taking steps deemed aggressive by critics after they took office. See, e.g., Geoffrey R. Stone, Selective Judicial Activism, 89 Tex. L. Rev. 1423, 1428 & n.34 (2012) (reviewing Seth Stern & Stephen Wermiel, Justice Brennan: Liberal Champion (2010)) (arguing that although Chief Justice John Roberts had said that the proper role of a judge was simply to “call balls and strikes,” he has acted in an activist fashion after confirmation).

[9]See James E. Pfander, One Supreme Court: Supremacy, Inferiority and the Judicial Power of the United States 7–8 (2009) (laying out scholarly consensus that although Congress has broad authority to limit the Supreme Court’s appellate jurisdiction, it cannot undermine the Supreme Court’s essential function, and suggesting more limited theories). A more promising approach might be to force the Supreme Court to take on more cases by re-expanding its mandatory jurisdiction, thus leaving less time and room for the philosophical and historical investigations that have characterized its recent broad constitutional rulings. But such an approach seems more likely to result in sloppy decisions than modest ones.

[10]See, e.g., Jonathan H. Adler, A Question About Placing Term Limits on Supreme Court Justices, Wash. Post: The Volokh Conspiracy (Feb. 16, 2016), https://www.washington‌post.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2016/02/16/a-question-about-placing-term-limits-on-supreme-court-justices/ [https://perma.cc/PQT2-TN3S]; Orin Kerr, Justice Scalia’s Death and the Case for Supreme Court Term Limits, Wash. Post: The Volokh Conspiracy (Feb. 16, 2016), https://‌www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2016/02/16/justice-scalias-death-and‌-the-case-for-supreme-court-term-limits/ [https://perma.cc/ZV34-5UGK]; Mark Sherman, Some Want to Limit Justices to 18 Years on Supreme Court, Associated Press (Feb. 18, 2016, 1:58 PM), http://big‌story.ap.org/‌article/5e2d2e2783‌0e4adab88a‌7e24‌f2c3fd09/some-want-limit-justices-18-years‌-supreme-court [https://perma.cc/325A-E8EW].

[11]These are not new observations. The points in the text are drawn from Steven G. Calabresi & James Lindgren, Term Limits for the Supreme Court: Life Tenure Reconsidered, 29 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y. 769, 855–71 (2006); Roger C. Cramton, Reforming the Supreme Court, 95 Calif. L. Rev. 1313, 1323–34 (2007); and Akhil Reed Amar & Vikram David Amar, Should U.S. Supreme Court Justices be Term-Limited: A Dialogue, Findlaw Writ (Aug. 23, 2002), http://writ.news.findlaw.com/amar/20020823.html [https://perma.cc/6GGK-KCYW].

[12]U.S. Const. art. III, § 1.

[13]Id.

[14]Given that the Constitution only mandates the creation of a Supreme Court and makes the creation of lower courts a matter of legislative grace, see infra note 18 and accompanying text (describing the Madisonian Compromise), the clarification seems entirely warranted.

[15]17 F. Cas. 144 (C.C.D. Md. 1861) (No. 9,487).

[16]See Hamdi v. Rumsfeld, 542 U.S. 507, 567 (2004) (Scalia, J., dissenting).

[17]50 U.S.C. § 1803(d) (2012).

[18]U.S. Const, art. II, § 2, cl. 2.

[19]See Richard H. Fallon, Jr. et al., Hart and Wechsler’s The Federal Courts and the Federal System 7–9 (6th ed. 2009).

[20]U.S. Const. art. I, § 3.

[21]Id. art. I, § 2, cl. 5.

[22]Id. art. I, § 3, cl. 5.

[23]See John Paul Stevens, Five Chiefs: A Supreme Court Memoir 14 (2011).

[24]See Noah Feldman, Scorpions: The Battles and Triumphs of FDR’s Great Supreme Court Justices 188–93, 258–64, 317–20 (2010).

[25]545 U.S. 1, 33–42 (2005) (Scalia, J., concurring in the judgment) (holding that Congress has the power to regulate homegrown medical marijuana).

[26]See, e.g., Esmail v. Obama, 639 F.3d 1075, 1077–78 (D.C. Cir. 2011) (Silberman, J., concurring) (suggesting that the Supreme Court was ducking its responsibility to explain its holding that habeas was available to detainees at Guantanamo Bay).

[27]See 28 U.S.C. § 1254(2) (2012).

[28]See Aaron Nielson, Essay, The Death of the Supreme Court’s Certified Question Jurisdiction, 59 Cath. Univ. L. Rev. 483, 489–91 (2010) (arguing that the Supreme Court has disregarded statutory duty on misguided policy grounds).

[29]A gentler reminder was once offered by Justice John Paul Stevens. When Chief Justice William Rehnquist presided over oral arguments at the Supreme Court, he would sometimes admonish advocates who referred to one of the Court’s members as a “Judge,” insisting that they should be referred to as a “Justice” instead. Justice Stevens once consoled an advocate who used the term “Judge” instead of “Justice,” saying that the advocate should not feel too badly, since the Constitution makes the same mistake. See Jeffrey L. Fisher, Of Facts & Fantasies: Justice Stevens and the Judge/Justice Story, 14 Green Bag 2d 53, 53–57 (2010).

Response: The Metamorphosis of Corporate Criminal Prosecutions

Corporate criminal enforcement has exploded in this country. Billion-dollar fines are now routine, where they were unimaginable a decade ago, across a range of industries, from Big Pharma to the largest megabanks to defense contractors and energy companies. We have federal prosecutors and the Department of Justice (“DOJ”), together with the white-collar bar, to thank for this. Their innovations have transformed what was, in decades past, a backwater area of criminal practice, in which corporate enforcement was uncommon and any resulting fines often quite minor, into a rapidly changing and exciting field of practice.[1] Yet deep concerns remain. General Motors recently received an out-of-court deferred prosecution agreement that permits the company to avoid a conviction for concealing defects over many years—actions that cost over a hundred people their lives—accompanied by no charges for any employees.[2] We have seen major financial institutions like AIG, Barclays, Credit Suisse, HSBC, JPMorgan, Lloyds, and UBS prosecuted repeatedly in a space of just a few years. Just imposing eye-catching corporate fines is not enough to generate lasting accountability.                                         http://www.law.virginia.edu/lawweb/faculty.nsf/fhpbi/05BF6D59555BBEC585257322006A4960/$FILE/garrett_hires.jpg
Now, the DOJ has begun to rethink the evolving corporate prosecution approach. Professors Elizabeth Joh and Thomas Joo have written a wonderful essay critically examining the new Yates Memo—the DOJ’s new set of guidelines for individual accountability in corporate crime investigations—which has been dubbed, in the typical style of the white-collar bar, after Sally Yates, the Deputy Attorney General who drafted the memo.[3] Joh and Joo question how effective the new DOJ policy shift will be and “urge greater consideration of complexity” in corporate prosecutions.[4] They fear, as I do, that a stilted focus on only individual accountability might permit excessive leniency to be afforded to corporations. Fortunately, this policy change is not purely an “all-or-nothing” change, as I will describe, due to the way in which it interacts with other aspects of the larger set of corporate charging principles that the DOJ has already adopted. That is also an additional weakness of the policy change. It is unclear what a course correction means where, at bottom, prosecutors simply have discretion to charge corporations—or not—and settle the corporate cases that are brought through opaque, intensive, and highly complex negotiations.

Most recently, the DOJ has incorporated the Yates Memo into its broader set of corporate charging guidelines contained within the U.S. Attorneys’ Manual and made additional changes to those guidelines, including setting out the needs for corporate self-reporting and better coordination between federal enforcement agencies that so often work in tandem.[5] Those larger changes, while useful, represent an incremental shift in the overall approach. Perhaps most troubling, the DOJ has not tightened its criteria for granting leniency in the form of deferred or non-prosecution agreements to corporations. Nor has the DOJ, despite statements that recidivism will be taken seriously, changed its guidelines to address the concern that corporations violate agreements and commit new crimes but still obtain leniency.[6] The DOJ also has not meaningfully addressed the substance of prosecution agreements, from calculation of fines, to the scope of compliance reforms sought, to the supervision of the agreements. A deeper rethinking of the federal corporate charging guidelines is much needed, and the paramount concern with leniency in corporate prosecutions—to avoid undue collateral consequences—should instead be directed at individuals.

I. Why Guide Corporate Charging?

Why do we have federal corporate prosecution guidelines at all? In few areas of criminal law do prosecutors announce in advance, and in detail, under what circumstances they will prosecute versus offer outright leniency. For years, the DOJ had no specific guidelines, for example, on federal drug prosecutions; it was only recently that then-Attorney General Eric Holder issued guidance on when, for example, to charge mandatory minimums in drug cases.[7] The U.S. Attorneys’ Manual contains general guidance that pretrial diversion, supervision, and leniency should be considered for some individuals, noting that “[i]nnovative approaches are strongly encouraged,” but those approaches are rarely used by U.S. Attorneys, who have extended such pretrial leniency to a tiny fraction of individuals charged every year.[8] As federal District Judge Emmett Sullivan has put it, “people are no less prone to rehabilitation than corporations.”[9] Instead, for years, particularly under Attorney General John Ashcroft, the DOJ policy was the opposite of lenient, encouraging prosecutors to pursue the “most serious, readily provable” charges against individuals.[10] In 2010, these guidelines were moderated to encourage pursuit of “the most serious offense that is consistent with the nature of the defendant’s conduct, and that is likely to result in a sustainable conviction,” while also encouraging an “individualized assessment” of the defendant.[11]

Corporations, though, are treated differently. They have never been prosecuted only for the most serious offenses committed by their agents. Corporations have long received a separate program of treatment under the Antitrust Division’s highly successful Leniency Program (which affects both corporations and individuals, and which is not affected in its approach by the Yates Memo).[12] In 1999, then-Deputy Attorney General Eric Holder issued the first DOJ memo providing more general guidelines for corporate prosecutions.[13] It was a 2003 revision to those guidelines, however, that accompanied the modern rise in prosecutions of the largest and public companies: the “Thompson Memo,” named after Larry Thompson, the Deputy Attorney General who oversaw the revisions, as I have described elsewhere.[14] In the years since the 2003 change, the DOJ has revised the guidelines—which have been incorporated into the U.S. Attorneys’ Manual as a set of principles for prosecuting organizations—several more times, responding to concerns regarding attorney-client privilege and corporate payment of attorneys’ fees, as well as concerns regarding the appointment of corporate monitors. The overall structure of the principles contained in these Principles of Federal Prosecution of Business Organizations encouraged consideration of a set of nine factors when deciding whether to pursue an indictment or conviction of a corporation, or, alternatively, a deferred or non-prosecution agreement. These factors broadly focused on the seriousness of the past conduct at the firm, the firm’s present cooperation, reporting and compliance at the firm, and future consequences, including collateral consequences, for the firm and others should the company be prosecuted.[15]

Now, those principles have been amended yet again. The most recent 2015 changes add a tenth factor to the set of considerations when charging organizations. The addition is nothing new, since, to be precise, the DOJ separated a single prior, confusing factor that considered both cooperation and self-reporting into two separate factors.[16] To be sure, when separating cooperation as a factor, the DOJ added a clarification that it is the firm’s cooperation in the investigation of its agents that is the priority. The new guidelines also contain an entire, prominently displayed section announcing the new “focus on individual wrongdoers.”[17] That section details how prosecutions of individuals will be a focus “at every step of the process,” including from the earliest stages of an investigation.[18] Moreover, the guidelines now make clear that cooperation is to be more clearly limited to cooperation in identifying culpable individuals: “In order for a company to receive any consideration for cooperation under this section, the company must identify all individuals involved in or responsible for the misconduct at issue, regardless of their position, status or seniority.”[19] The guidelines also highlight the now separately noted importance of self-reporting in the form of a “timely and voluntary disclosure,” which is a truly important change, since corporate crimes may often go undetected, and corporations in the past had remained unsure as to whether self-reporting crimes would actually be rewarded.[20]

However, the revised principles continue to encourage the use of deferred and non-prosecution agreements for corporations, recommending their use as a middle ground, short of a conviction but not quite a declination. The principles vaguely note that whether undue collateral consequences of an indictment or conviction recommend such an approach “must be evaluated in a pragmatic and reasoned way that produces a fair outcome, taking into consideration, among other things, the Department’s need to promote and ensure respect for the law.”[21] The principles do say that “prosecutors should generally seek a plea to an appropriate offense,” and also that “generally” this should be a plea to the “most serious, readily provable offense charged.”[22] The principles also add a new section on coordinating parallel proceedings, to encourage closer cooperation between prosecutors and those pursuing civil, regulatory, and administrative actions.[23]

How important are these sorts of changes to that larger set of corporate charging principles, given the complexity of the guidelines and the emphasis on the “substantial latitude” that prosecutors retain in exercising their discretion?[24] One preliminary question is whether the latest round should even be considered a meaningful set of changes at all. Regarding the new stated focus on individual culpability, DOJ policy had already emphasized for some time that “[o]nly rarely should provable individual culpability not be pursued, particularly if it relates to high-level corporate officers,” where the company settles its case with prosecutors (since, after all, the company’s liability is necessarily premised on the crimes of its agents).[25] Supposedly, individuals were always a central focus of an investigation. Yet the new additions address an important practical problem, the subject of my recent article published in this journal.[26] There, I detail how from 2001 to 2014, prosecutors entered 306 deferred and non-prosecution agreements with companies, which are settlement deals permitting the companies to avoid an indictment and a conviction. Among those companies entering deferred and non-prosecution agreements, thirty-four percent or 104 companies, had individuals prosecuted, with 414 total individuals prosecuted to date. Nor were most of those individuals higher-ups; most were middle management. The average sentence, for those who received a sentence with jail time, was forty months, but over forty percent did not receive any jail time.[27]

The new DOJ guidance recognizes, but does not directly address, the practical challenges of identifying responsible individuals. Individual wrongdoing will now be a stated focus from the earliest stages, and the principles now seek to more directly incentivize such cooperation. A company will only get full cooperation credit for identifying all relevant individuals. But how will prosecutors know whether a company has done so, given a position of real dependence on the company’s own internal investigation for information about who did what? It had long been problematic that corporations could receive credit for cooperation that, as I have argued, does not remotely resemble the criteria for “substantial cooperation” for individuals (although the Sentencing Guidelines criteria must still themselves be reformed).[28] Nor, as Professors Joh and Joo describe,[29] does cooperation of the corporation itself necessarily mean that the most responsible individuals, rather than scapegoated low-level employees, are identified. Justice is not served if the company identifies, as Deputy Attorney General Yates put it well, “the vice president in charge of going to jail.”[30]

The limitations of the new memo extend more broadly, however. The considerations of prosecutors themselves are multifarious. Even if a company obtained full cooperation “credit,” this would not necessarily translate to a more lenient outcome. There are other factors to consider. What if the company’s track record of violations was long; would a recidivist really receive leniency for fully cooperating as to its latest violation? What if the company did not self-report, but only cooperated once it had been turned in by a competitor? What if the conduct was so reprehensible that prosecutors felt it deserved maximum punishment? After all, cooperation is only one of the ten factors in the principles. Similarly, self-reporting in the form of a timely and voluntary disclosure is just another factor, and while it can be considered “both as an independent factor and in evaluating the company’s overall cooperation and . . . compliance,” even if a company voluntarily self-discloses, “prosecution may be appropriate” based on “a consideration of all the factors set forth in these Principles.”[31] What if a company is downright non-cooperative or fails to disclose its crimes? Perhaps such a company could still receive substantial leniency if other factors weighed in the other direction, such as self-reporting or collateral consequences to shareholders and employees. Indeed, there are examples of deferred prosecution agreements that describe companies as having initially been uncooperative or not disclosing their crimes, but that later garner leniency.

There is no reason that these latest set of changes would produce greater assurances or greater clarity to corporations. With every revision and expansion of the U.S. Attorneys’ Manual principles, prosecutors still fundamentally retain broad “all things considered” discretion in corporate charging. As I have developed in my empirical work on the subject, what the guidelines say is one thing, and what prosecutors actually do in practice is another. The guidelines do not say that most public corporations should receive deferred and non-prosecution agreements, but that is what has happened in practice. The guidelines do not speak to how corporate recidivists should be treated, and the relative lack of consequences in practice speaks volumes. Perhaps we need to look at forces operating largely outside of the DOJ to better understand what occurs in corporate prosecutions.

II. Beyond the Prosecutors: Corporations and Judges

Corporations are not ordinary defendants. A large company may itself face challenges uncovering who did what, even if it is intent on cooperating. Corporate negotiations with prosecutors are dynamic, to put it mildly, and the approaches of companies and industries matter. If other major banks start to receive plea agreements, then obtaining a deferred prosecution agreement may no longer seem so necessary to preserve a firm’s reputation. The concerns of regulators may play an important role in negotiations, and often compliance terms and supervision of agreements centrally involve specialist regulatory agencies.

Let us not forget the federal judiciary and its supervisory role. Some judges have taken on a more active role in reviewing deferred prosecution agreements before approving them, as well as some plea agreements. I have argued that judges should provide a meaningful review of the terms of such agreements, given their complexity and public importance.[32] In 2013, federal Judge Richard J. Leon rejected a deferred prosecution agreement with a company for foreign bribery, “looking at the DPA in its totality” and noting that not only were “no individuals . . . being prosecuted for their conduct at issue here,” but also “a number of the employees who were directly involved in the transactions [we]re being allowed to remain with the company.”[33] Soon, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit may rule on appeal whether doing so was appropriate.

Federal Judge John Gleeson asserted a supervisory power to receive monitors’ reports concerning a deferred prosecution agreement with HSBC.[34] The DOJ guidelines have long said very little about the entire subject of supervising compliance and ensuring that a corporation adheres to the terms of a prosecution agreement.

Most recently, Judge Emmett Sullivan suggested that certain factors (suggested by this author as amicus) could provide “useful guideposts” when evaluating whether a deferred prosecution agreement with a company is truly “designed to secure a defendant’s reformation” or whether the terms are “so vague or minimal as to render them a sham.”[35] Such interventions will be of necessity quite deferential where there is no entitlement to receive diversion and where prosecutors reach an agreement with a defendant, but they may also impact the future contours of corporate prosecutions, as they have in the past.

III. Does It Take a Plan?

Do the breadth of prosecutorial discretion and the multifactored nature of the considerations the DOJ uses when charging a corporation doom any reform efforts to failure? I think not, but it takes a more comprehensive plan of attack to respond to the “too big to jail” challenge of corporate prosecutions. And, to be fair, the DOJ is continuing to rethink its approach towards corporations; the Yates memo is not the last word. For example, the Fraud Section at the DOJ has retained a compliance expert to do a more rigorous job of assessing compliance, since the corporation’s “remedial action[s]” and any efforts to implement an effective corporate compliance program are among the factors to be considered.[36] The entire area is evolving so quickly that the DOJ sensibly continues to adapt and respond to concerns, including those raised by academics, of all people.

Outside of the DOJ, perhaps, more sweeping solutions can be considered. I have suggested a broader palette of reforms to address these problems, both in my book and my recent article on the problem of individual prosecutions.[37] Legislation is pending in Congress, chiefly focused on the transparency of the financial terms in civil and criminal corporate settlements. Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton has proposed as part of her presidential campaign a top-to-bottom plan for policing and preventing corporate crime and financial misconduct.[38] The plan carefully addresses systemic risk in financial institutions (“too big to fail”), but my interest is in “too big to jail” provisions: The plan addresses a range of concerns that companies and banks, as well as their officers and employees, can commit massive crimes at great cost to the public but receive mere slaps on the wrist. Here, I break those relevant portions of the Clinton plan down into four key recommendations.[39]

1. Corporate deals should not be out of court. I have argued for some time that non-prosecution agreements simply should not be pursued (although the Swiss Banking Program may be the exceptional circumstance in which such agreements are genuinely useful).[40] I have also argued that deferred prosecution agreements have been overused. The DOJ has begun to respond by more often entering plea agreements in the most serious corporate prosecution cases in practice, but not, as noted, as a matter of any formal policy change. The DOJ Guidelines should be changed to reflect the priority of corporate convictions, not just deals. The Clinton plan criticizes the “overuse” of out-of-court corporate prosecution agreements and calls for DOJ guidelines clarifying that those agreements should “be used in limited circumstances.”[41] The DOJ chose not to make any such change in its recent round of revisions to its guidelines. Corporations should know that they cannot count on out-of-court leniency deals for the most serious crimes. They should typically be convicted. (In contrast, I strongly agree with Judge Emmett Sullivan that we should be thinking far more broadly about deferred and non-prosecution agreements for individual offenders.)[42]

2. Corporate deals should be in the open. We should know what fines companies are really paying and what is tax deductible or offset through credits. The Clinton plan endorses the bipartisan transparency in corporate settlements legislation proposed by Senators Elizabeth Warren and James Lankford. Some agreements are quite clear on the tax consequences of a settlement. The JP Morgan settlement, for example, included $1.7 billion in forfeiture, but stated that the forfeiture was to be treated as a penalty and that JP Morgan must not see a tax deduction or credit from that settlement amount.[43] Others are more opaque. They often do not explain any sentencing guidelines calculation for how the fine was determined, either. The problem also extends to civil settlements, such as BP’s, which have been silent on the question.[44] Some settlements have also included set-offs against payments that companies have already made or have agreed to make to state and local enforcers or federal agencies. Entire agreements with corporations have been hidden, although University of Virginia law students have filed FOIA requests and successfully obtained many of them.[45] The plan says that all such corporate agreements must be publicly disclosed. The DOJ should be requiring as much on its own. Despite detailed criticism on this front as to the lenient fines imposed and the failure to calculate them in any transparent way,[46] the DOJ did not address the calculation of fines at all in its revised guidelines, and it has never done so except to say that punishment and deterrence can be accomplished by “substantial fines.”[47]

3. Individuals should be held accountable. As noted, corporations that receive non-prosecution and deferred prosecution agreements typically manage to insulate individuals from prosecution, although they invariably agree to fully cooperate with prosecutors. When individuals are charged, they are typically low-level employees, not higher-ups, and they often do not receive jail time. I have proposed to extend statutes of limitations in corporate criminal investigations.[48] The Clinton plan would do so for major financial fraud, which may make complex investigations more practicable.

4. Prosecutors need far more enforcement resources. In corporate prosecutions, there is a role reversal: The federal prosecutors are the David to the defendants, who are the corporate Goliaths of the world. Enforcers and prosecutors need substantial resources to tackle cases involving hundreds or thousands of employees at major companies. The Clinton plan is the first serious plan to bolster enforcement. When the multinational corporation Siemens was investigated in the largest foreign bribery case of its time, the firm cooperated, and in the process, Siemens spent over a billion dollars hiring attorneys and investigators to represent it.[49] Prosecutors and regulators could move mountains with a fraction of those resources.

Conclusion

We have long needed a detailed plan of action to revamp our evolving system of corporate prosecutions, which are very much the envy of the world corporate enforcement community but which are also still very much a work in progress. Professors Joo and Joh carefully dissect the Yates memo and illustrate how limited its impact will likely be, as well as the potentially perverse consequences of its priorities. It is not altogether clear that it is in fact a new policy. Since their writing, the DOJ has announced broader changes to its corporate charging guidelines. These changes are incremental and preserve broad charging discretion that has not served prosecutors or corporate prosecutions well in the past. Far more promising changes are possible, and some may be genuinely in the works at the DOJ, through legislation, and in plans that may be adopted by future administrations yet to come. To merely say the focus will be placed more on individual prosecutions raises practical questions, including whether this focus will come at the expense of careful corporate level enforcement. To bolster investigation and enforcement resources, the DOJ must reorient the entire system by rethinking the rules for civil disbarment, enhancing civil fines, incentivizing whistleblowers better, and strengthening prosecution priorities for the most serious offenders.

We are in the midst of a rethinking of our system of criminal justice in this country. We are reconsidering our mass incarceration and overly harsh sentences, with their collateral consequences on entire communities and generations of young people, and we are focusing on efforts to promote reentry, rehabilitation, and prevention, rather than punishment. When one turns to the most privileged offenders in this country, the picture is reversed. The most far-reaching corporate crimes have received leniency for years now, as the result of careful thinking and rethinking of the precise contours of a federal leniency program designed to avoid excess collateral consequences for corporate offenders. Rehabilitation is not taken seriously enough, with concerns that compliance may often be overly cosmetic. Corporate fraud enforcement needs more powerful teeth. In the years to come, hopefully we will see a reversal of federal priorities, with new efforts to avoid collateral consequences for individuals committing relatively small offenses, combined with far more rigorous prosecution of the largest corporate crimes.

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 [1] For an overview, see Brandon L. Garrett, Too Big to Jail: How Prosecutors Compromise with Corporations 1–18 (2014).

[2] David M. Uhlmann, Justice Falls Short in G.M. Case, N.Y. Times, Sept. 20, 2015, at SR5, http://nyti.ms/1V1Kzkq. For a report expressing concern with a wide range of recent civil and criminal corporate settlements, see Office of Sen. Elizabeth Warren, Rigged Justice: 2016: How Weak Enforcement Lets Corporate Offenders Off Easy (Jan. 2016), http://‌www.warren.senate.gov/files/documents/Rigged_Justice_2016.pdf, archived at https://‌perma.‌cc/6LS7-GNWN.

[3] Elizabeth E. Joh & Thomas W. Joo, The Corporation as Snitch: The New DOJ Guidelines on Prosecuting White Collar Crime, 101 Va. L. Rev. Online 51 (2015).

[4] Id. at 54.

[5] U.S. Dep’t of Justice, U.S. Attorneys’ Manual § 9-28.000 (2015) [hereinafter U.S. Attorneys’ Manual], http://www.justice.gov/usam/united-states-attorneys-manual, archived at https://‌perma.cc/J7C9-6UR3.

[6] See, e.g., Garrett, supra note 1, at 165–68 (describing concerns regarding corporate recidivism).

[7] Memorandum from Eric Holder, Attorney Gen., U.S. Dep’t of Justice, on Department Policy on Charging Mandatory Minimum Sentences and Recidivist Enhancements in Certain Drug Cases (Aug. 12, 2013), http://www.justice.gov/sites/default/files/oip/legacy/2014/07/23/ag-memo-‌department-policypon-charging-mandatory-minimum-sentences-recidivist-enhance‌ments-in-certain-drugcases.pdf, archived at https://perma.cc/Y7ST-93YH.

[8] U.S. Dep’t of Justice, U.S. Attorneys’ Manual: Criminal Resource Manual § 712, http://‌www.justice.gov/usam/criminal-resource-manual, archived at https://perma.cc/WX3Q-5JE7. Judge Sullivan points out: “Department of Justice statistics indicate that in fiscal year 2012, there were a total of 253 pretrial diversions for individual defendants, accounting for 0.9% of the reasons why Assistant United States Attorneys declined to prosecute.” United States v. Saena Tech Corp., Nos. 14-66 (EGS), 14-211 (EGS), 2015 WL 6406266, at *27 (D.D.C. Oct. 21, 2015) (citations omitted). Judge Sullivan notes also that prejudgment probation is similarly underused. Id. at *28.

[9] Saena Tech Corp., 2015 WL 6406266, at *29.

[10] U.S. Attorneys’ Manual, supra note 5, § 9-27.400; Memorandum from John Ashcroft, Attorney Gen., U.S. Dep’t of Justice, on Department Policy Concerning Charging Criminal Offenses, Disposition of Charges, and Sentencing (Sept. 22, 2003), http://www.justice.gov/archive/‌opa/pr/2003/September/03_ag_516.htm, archived at https://perma.cc/4DF7-884S.

[11] Memorandum from Eric Holder, Attorney Gen., U.S. Dep’t of Justice, on Department Policy on Charging and Sentencing (May 19, 2010), http://www.justice.gov/sites/default/files/‌oip/legacy/2014/07/23/holder-memo-charging-sentencing.pdf, archived at https://perma.cc/‌UXQ2-UAAL.

[12] U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Antitrust Div., Leniency Program, http://www.justice.gov/atr/‌lenien‌cy-program, archived at https://perma.cc/Q3JK-PJFU.

[13] Memorandum from Eric Holder, Deputy Attorney Gen., U.S. Dep’t of Justice, on Bringing Criminal Charges Against Corporations (June 16, 1999), http://www.justice.gov/‌sites/default/‌files/criminal-fraud/legacy/2010/04/11/charging-corps.PDF, archived at https://perma.cc/G5T7-ULMM.

[14] Memorandum from Larry D. Thompson, Deputy Attorney Gen., U.S. Dep’t of Justice, on Principles of Federal Prosecution of Business Organizations (Jan. 20, 2003), http://www.ameri‌canbar.org/content/dam/aba/migrated/poladv/priorities/privilegewaiver/2003jan20_privwaiv_doj‌thomp.authcheckdam.pdf, archived at https://perma.cc/85RM-NQJK.

[15] See U.S. Dep’t of Justice, U.S. Attorneys’ Manual § 9-28.200 (2008) [hereinafter U.S. Attorneys’ Manual (2008 Version)], http://www.justice.gov/opa/documents/corp-charging-guide‌lines.pdf, archived at https://perma.cc/A58J-72LV.

[16] U.S. Attorneys’ Manual, supra note 5, § 9-28.300 (including, as factor six, “the corporation’s timely and voluntary disclosure of wrongdoing,” and, as factor four, “the corporation’s willingness to cooperate in the investigation of its agents”).

[17] Id. § 9-28.210.

[18] Id. § 9-28.700(B).

[19] Id. § 9-28.700(A).

[20] Id. § 9-28.900.

[21] Id. § 9-28.1100(B).

[22] Id. § 9-28.1500(A), (B).

[23] Id. § 1-12.000.

[24] Id. § 9-28.200(B).

[25] See U.S. Attorneys’ Manual (2008 Version), supra note 15, § 9-28.200(B).

[26] Brandon L. Garrett, The Corporate Criminal as Scapegoat, 101 Va. L. Rev. 1789 (2015).

[27] Id. at 1791.

[28] Id. at 1843–46 (internal quotation marks omitted).

[29] Joh & Joo, supra note 3, at 58.

[30] Matt Apuzzo & Ben Protess, Justice Dept. Sets Its Sights on Executives, N.Y. Times, Sept. 10, 2015, at A1, http://nyti.ms/1UI3xfX.

[31] U.S. Attorneys’ Manual, supra note 5, § 9-28.900.

[32] Garrett, supra note 1, at 282 (arguing that “[j]udges should consider the public interest when reviewing . . . deferred prosecution agreements” and “insist on full and open hearings before approving [such] agreements”).

[33] United States v. Fokker Servs. B.V., 79 F. Supp. 3d 160, 166 (D.D.C. 2015).

[34] United States v. HSBC, No. 12-CR-763, 2013 WL 3306161, at *1 (E.D.N.Y. July 1, 2013).

[35] United States v. Saena Tech Corp., Nos. 14-66 (EGS), 14-211 (EGS), 2015 WL 6406266, at *16 (D.D.C. Oct. 21, 2015). I note that this author served as an amicus making recommendations to the court regarding the question of what standard should be used when deciding whether to approve a deferred prosecution agreement with a corporation. See id. at *19.

[36] Press Release, U.S. Dep’t of Justice, New Compliance Counsel Expert Retained by the DOJ Fraud Section (Nov. 3, 2015), http://www.justice.gov/criminal-fraud/file/790236/download, archived at https://perma.cc/DN4Z-F87F.

[37] See Garrett, supra note 26, at 1839–49 (exploring possible reforms); Garrett, supra note 1, at 273–84.

[38] Hillary Clinton: Wall Street Should Work for Main Street [hereinafter Clinton Plan], https://www.hillaryclinton.com/p/briefing/factsheets/2015/10/08/wall-street-work-for-main-street, archived at https://perma.cc/9CUX-Y2QU.

[39] I previously outlined these four features of the Clinton Plan in an op-ed. See Brandon L. Garrett, It Takes a Plan (To End ‘Too Big to Jail’), Huffington Post (Oct. 15, 2015), http://‌www.huffingtonpost.com/brandon-l-garrett/it-takes-a-plan-to-end-too-big-to-jail_b_829614‌0.html, archived at https://perma.cc/A6NC-ARH8; Brandon L. Garrett, It Takes a Plan (To End ‘Too Big to Jail’), CLS Blue Sky Blog (Oct. 14, 2015), http://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/‌2015/10/14/it-takes-a-plan-to-end-too-big-to-jail/, archived at https://perma.cc/UF9Z-SEH8.

[40] In 2010, the United States and Switzerland signed a treaty providing for the exchange of information on potential tax evaders. The DOJ subsequently announced that it would offer non-prosecution agreements to Swiss banks that voluntarily disclosed their roles in helping individuals avoid U.S. taxes. For a more detailed explanation, see Garrett, supra note 1, at 244–45. The DOJ has detailed the Swiss Bank Program and provided materials from each of the cases on a useful website. See U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Swiss Bank Program, http://www.‌justice.gov/tax/swiss-bank-program, archived at https://perma.cc/39H9-C6NL.

[41] Clinton Plan, supra note 37.

[42] United States v. Saena Tech Corp., Nos. 14-66 (EGS), 14-211 (EGS), 2015 WL 6406266, at *21 (D.D.C. Oct. 21, 2015).

[43] See Verified Complaint, Exhibit D to the Deferred Prosecution Agreement, at 1–6, United States v. JPMorgan Chase Bank, No. 14-CR-___ (S.D.N.Y. Jan. 6, 2014), http://www.‌justice.gov/‌sites/default/files/usao-sdny/legacy/2015/03/25/JPMC%20DPA%20Packet%20%‌28Fully%20Executed%20w%20Exhibits%29.pdf, archived at https://perma.cc/H3DE-BQDV; Garrett, supra note 1, at 124.

[44] Garrett, supra note 1, at 135 (noting that, in entering a civil consent decree with BP, the Environmental Protection Agency did not explain how it reached a penalty of $15 million).

[45] Univ. Va. Law Sch., First Amendment Clinic Obtains 18 More of DOJ’s Secret Deals with Corporate Offenders (June 4, 2015), http://www.law.virginia.edu/html/news/2015_sum/‌foia.htm, archived at https://perma.cc/Z8JL-92JK

[46] See Garrett, supra note 1, at 67–70, 149–50.

[47] U.S. Attorneys’ Manual, supra note 5, § 9-28.1500(B).

[48] Garrett, supra note 26, at 1841–42.

[49] Nathan Vardi, The Bribery Racket, Forbes (May 28, 2010), http://www.forbes.com/‌global/2010/0607/companies-payoffs-washington-extortion-mendelsohn-bribery-racket.html; see also Garrett, supra note 1, at 9–10.

[50] The author is the Justice Thurgood Marshall Distinguished Professor of Law, University of Virginia School of Law.

[51] This piece is in response to a piece by Professors Elizabeth Joh and Thomas Joo which was published by the Virginia Law Review Online in October 2015.

[52] The piece by Professors Joh and Joo can be found here.

[53] Please also see Professor Garrett’s longer article on this subject here.