By JONATHAN R. MACEY
There are a large number of "law-ands"
around: law and philosophy, law and history, law and sociology, law and
society, law and critical race theory. A partial explanation for the
development of these "law-ands" is that contemplating the law by
itself is pretty boring. Just as the International House of Pancakes would
probably not long survive in the competitive marketplace if it just served
plain, unadulterated pancakes with no syrup or other condiments, the profession
of teaching law would probably (without serious salary adjustments) fail to
attract bright, ambitious people if it offered only a life of writing
comprehensive but unimaginative treatises and trying to describe legal rules to
a bunch of students in daily lectures.
Luckily, however, teaching law involves more than
articulating and relaying a set of rules to a passive audience. Those of us who
do it indulge our interest in issues such as where the rules come from, what
distributive effects the rules have, whether the current rules are doing what
they are supposed to be doing, and how different rules would alter the way
people behave in various circumstances. In order to examine these issues
critically, legal academics must turn to disciplines outside of the law itself.
For instance, to study the distributive impact of legal rules, we might turn to
economics; to describe the effects of legal rules on race relations, we might
turn to critical race theory or to sociology.
Despite the fact that all "law-ands" derive
from the natural desire of legal academics to analyze and understand--rather
than simply to be aware of--the rules, I want to argue that not all
"law-ands" are equal. In doing so, however, I want to challenge the
hierarchical distinction between interdisciplinary approaches made earlier by
Bob Ellickson,[1] which regards law and economics as qualitatively different
and better than all the others because of its singularly pervasive credibility.
Distinguishing between the various "law-ands" on the basis of their
relative durability and appeal is not the best way to go about the task because
the differences between many of these interdisciplinary approaches--namely
those that incorporate social science methodologies--are quite superficial.[2]
A better approach to distinguishing among the various
"law-ands" delineates between those that utilize social science
methodology and those that do not. Law and economics is the most widespread[3]
and unitary of the interdisciplinary approaches to law that invoke social
science methodology, but it may not be the most important[4] or interesting.
Other approaches include law and statistics (which may be the most important),
law and psychology, law and positive political theory, and, of course, law and
sociology.
What distinguishes these law and social science
approaches from other approaches that rely, for instance, on feminism, critical
race theory, or critical legal studies? The most important and fundamental
distinction is that the law and social sciences seek to develop testable
hypotheses, assertions about the law that are empirically refutable. In short,
these approaches are unique in not assuming their own conclusions. In this way,
the law and social science approaches maintain a certain amount of humility.
Their proponents admit quite explicitly that, if one examines their
methodologies, their theories can be proved wrong.
Another distinction between the law and social science
approaches and the other "law-ands" is their neutrality. Law and the
social sciences provide consequential analyses. Practitioners in these
disciplines ask: "If X happens, what will be the result of having a
particular law, abolishing a particular law, or amending a particular law? What
will be the allocational consequences, for example?" All interdisciplinary
approaches to the law are, or course, susceptible to corruption and the
insinuation of personal values.[5] The scientific method inherent in law and
the social sciences offers a way of attempting to transcend mere personal
values by producing empirically testable hypotheses that personal values can
neither prove nor conceal. I want to emphasize that I am not arguing that the law
and social science approaches always succeed in producing testable hypotheses
with which we can transcend simple personal values; instead, I am arguing that
doing so is the unique objective of these approaches. This objective provides
an indispensable criterion by which we can distinguish good and bad analyses of
the law.
The final distinction between law and social sciences
and other interdisciplinary approaches is that law and social sciences are
qualitatively better at achieving any particular set of aims that one might
have within the law. Regardless of what one is trying to accomplish with legal
rules, the social sciences provide a superior framework simply because, done
well, they communicate to people who are nonbelievers.[6] An audience is more likely
to be persuaded by an assertion that it is free but ultimately unable to
disprove empirically than by an assertion that it can reject out-of-hand as
founded on unacceptable personal values.
The greater persuasiveness of objectively disprovable
assertions is intuitively obvious. Suppose that you are a defense lawyer in
South Carolina and that you have a black client on death row. Naturally, you
would want to avert your client's execution. To do so, you are likely to
attempt to challenge the legality of the white prosecutor's decision to seek
the death penalty for your client.
Are you going to call Derrick Bell or perhaps someone
else from the critical race theory movement in order to save your client from
the electric chair? I think most defense attorneys would rather call upon my
colleague at Cornell, Ted Eisenberg, requesting a statistical comparison of the
prosecutor's decisions to seek the death penalty in cases with white defendants
and in cases with black defendants.[7] This is simply a crude example of the
point that Bob Ellickson[8] has made about using market tests to sort out the
various interdisciplinary approaches to the law. As the defense attorney in
this case, most of us would rely on the empirical mode of argument that we know
is generally most persuasive.
Similarly, if you want to criticize the current state
of family law as insufficiently protective of the reproductive or economic
rights of women, the social sciences would probably provide a more useful
platform than feminist philosophy. Radical feminists may argue that treating
women as bearers and mothers of children merely perpetuates the subjugation of
women by men, but of what value is this argument to you as an advocate
confronting an audience that does not agree? You can develop a similar
criticism of family law using economics. Take, for example, Lloyd Cohen's
article in the Journal of Legal Studies, using an economic approach to reach a
result perfectly consistent with feminist perspectives on marriage and on the
exploitation of women in the marital context.[9] Nonbelievers can find this
empirically testable argument credible because it is more than simply
conclusory.
There is another way in which law and social sciences tend
to be more persuasive than other interdisciplinary approaches. The social
sciences require that a theory be precisely focused, thereby ensuring its
relevance to those lines of inquiry to which the theory by its own terms
applies. Theories in law and the social sciences are, in other words, more
resistant to haphazardly overbroad applications and the loss of credibility
that accompanies them. This is because particular facts--rather than vague
generalizations--will validate or disprove these theories; theorists in law and
social sciences thus have real incentives to tailor their assertions to those
facts that the theorists believe will actually bear out their analyses.
Interdisciplinary approaches to the law that do not
rely on social sciences do not benefit from this self-discipline. Consider
critical race theory's arguments on the merit system. Critical race scholars
like Richard Delgado argue explicitly for quotas in law school faculty
hiring.[10] Is there any basis for attacking law school hiring practices,
however, or are these arguments misdirected efforts that may well undermine the
movement's arguments in more relevant areas? There may be empirically
verifiable examples of racially biased hiring practices among some law school
faculties somewhere, but data from the annual reports of the Association of
American Law Schools (AALS) belie the assumption that minority applicants are
less likely than white applicants to secure a job teaching law. From 1991 to
1994, between one-fifth and one-fourth of newly hired law teachers were
minorities.[11] Moreover, minority applicants who had themselves listed in the
AALS Faculty Appointments Register were much more likely than white applicants
to obtain teaching jobs. Over twenty percent of the minority applicants listed
in the Register for the 1991-1992 academic year found jobs, whereas fewer than
thirteen percent of nonminority applicants for the same period did.[12] The
success of minority applicants in the formal recruiting process during this
period was not offset, as one might suspect, by white applicants' greater
success outside of that process--in the so-called "old boys'
network." In fact, the percentage of successful minority applicants hired
outside the formal AALS recruiting process was greater than the percentage of
successful nonminority applicants.[13]
This evidence of the success of minority applicants in
finding jobs teaching law does not, of course, demonstrate that the critical
race theorists like Richard Delgado are wrong when they assert that there is
widespread racism in society or that hiring quotas may be a desirable remedy
for it. The evidence does suggest, however, that law school faculties may not
be biased against minorities in hiring new law teachers and thus that the
arguments often deployed by critical race theorists to support quotas may not
be credibly deployed in this particular area. The advantage of a social science
theory about merit and hiring practices as opposed to a critical race theory
about the same thing is that the former does not invite dubious and hence
potentially counterproductive generalizations from one area of employment to
another. In general, the more precise focus of well-articulated theories in law
and social sciences renders them more tenable and persuasive than theories from
other "law-ands" exactly because these social science theories have
an explicit relevance to the areas to which their proponents seek to apply
them.
Regardless of your political agenda, if you want to
lead a richer intellectual life, understand the genesis and effects of legal
rules, and persuade others to support legal interpretations or reforms, relying
on economics or some other social science methodology is a good way to go.
Naturally, law and economics--like other law and social sciences--has its
detractors. For example, Tony Kronman, the Dean of Yale Law School, has written
a book about the legal profession in which he explicitly argues that the
ascendancy of law and economics has contributed to pathological conditions in
current legal education and practice.[14] Kronman's argument, however, does not
attack the proposition that law and social sciences are uniquely useful and
instructive approaches among the panoply of modern "law-ands."
Instead, Kronman's argument seems to emphasize that no single interdisciplinary
approach can be appropriate for every analysis of the law. We might formulate
the best normative view of the role of the lawyer if we considered philosophy
extensively and disregarded economics entirely. I gladly concede this possibility.
It is exactly because law and economics is not the best approach for every
field of inquiry that I have argued that the qualitative distinction among
"law-ands" must not simply track the arbitrary lines between various
social science disciplines. Law and economics is not better than law and
psychology simply because proponents of powerful theories often align
themselves within the law and economics movement. We should question, rather
than reinforce, the pervasiveness of law and economics as the primary
interdisciplinary approach to the law. On this, Dean Kronman and I agree.
Although law and economics is not the best
interdisciplinary approach for every field of legal inquiry and thus may be
considered unduly pervasive, I have tried to argue that, for most purposes of
legal analysis, some form of law and social science provides the best approach.
The nature of the scientific method, upon which each law-and-social-science
theory is based, simply ensures a qualitative advantage over other "law-ands"
for the specific purpose of analyzing legal rules. Because they are empirically
disprovable, value-neutral, and factually relevant, the well-articulated
theories in law and social sciences are the most persuasive and informative of
the interdisciplinary approaches to the law.
~~~~~~~~
JONATHAN R. MACEY, J. DuPratt White Professor of Law,
Cornell Law School.
Harvard Journal of Law & Public Policy; Fall97, Vol. 21 Issue 1, p171, 7p