Tuesday, April 08, 2025

The Columbia-Boycotting Judges Should Recuse from Columbia-Related Cases


A Seventh Circuit panel has dismissed a judicial ethics complaint levied against one of the judges who announced a boycott of Columbia University graduates in his clerkship hiring.

This was, I think, the correct decision, and I have no substantive quarrel with the panel's analysis. Moreover, the complainant, who "is serving a sentence in a state prison after a jury found him guilty of arson, terrorism, and other crimes stemming from his role in firebombing and vandalizing Jewish houses of worship" and who loaded up his complaints with spurious conspiracies of foreign influence and control, is hardly the ideal party to raise concerns about judicial behavior in this context.

That said, while I agree that there is no ethics violation to be found in the Columbia boycott, I do think that the signatories to the boycott letter are obligated to recuse themselves from any Columbia-related cases -- including cases where a party is represented by a Columbia attorney who matriculated in the targeted time period. An academic boycott of this sort necessarily signals bias against persons under the umbrella of the targeted institution, and both the university and its graduates can fairly wonder if they will be treated fairly in the courtroom of a judge who participates in this boycott.

To understand why, it's important to be clear about what a boycott is. One point that is often emphasized in this conversation is that judges have extremely wide latitude in deciding who their clerks will be and on what criteria they will be selected. For example, the panel here wrote:

Except to the extent prohibited by these regulations and guidelines, judges have wide discretion to establish their own screening and selection criteria in appointing law clerks. This latitude permits judges to make distinctions among applicants based on their own determinations of the relevant criteria or qualifications, including where the applicants were educated. Some judges only hire graduates of certain law schools. Some tailor their preferences to the specific needs of their court or chambers—for example, by looking for candidates from law schools with excellent writing or trial advocacy programs or strong core curricula in relevant subject areas. Relatedly, some judges only consider candidates with a GPA in the top 10 or 20 percent of their law-school class (or some other academic cutoff). Some require membership in the law review or moot court team. Others prioritize candidates from law schools in their state or circuit.

This is quite right. But then they continue to say that "[i]n the same way, a judge may refuse to hire law clerks from a law school or university that has, in the judge’s view, failed to foster important aspects of higher education like civility in discourse, respect for freedom of speech, and viewpoint nondiscrimination."

I don't think these are the same. And one hint that they're not the same is that you would never hear any of the examples cited in the first paragraph described as a "boycott". A judge who will only hire (or more likely, strongly prefers to hire) applicants for law schools in their state would not characterize herself as "boycotting" the other 49 states. A judge who only hires students in the top 20% of their class would not say he is "boycotting" the bottom 80%. A "boycott" by its nature is different from the ordinary and normal processes of selection that judges (and all of us) do on a daily basis. And -- more to the point -- one calls what one is doing a "boycott" precisely in order to draw that distinction and to signal that one is departing from the normal and unremarkable exercise of discretionary selection.

Consider another example: there are many restaurants in Portland. In deciding where I go to eat, there is a wide range of screening and selection criteria I might use, from taste to price to convenience. Even with those criteria, the vast majority of restaurants I never have and never will eat at -- but nobody would say I am "boycotting" them. In other cases I have eaten at them, but decided that (for example) the food was bad and so will not return. Again, under ordinary usage nobody would call that a "boycott". 

If I announced I was boycotting a given restaurant, the ordinary listener would understand that I am doing something different than identifying the place as among the many, many restaurants I don't eat at for "normal" reasons. A boycott, rather, is a decision to not patronize or transact with a given establishment, based on reasons that lie outside the normal evaluative criteria one typically uses to select a restaurant and in order to effectuate some change in behavior that also lies outside the normal bases one uses to select where to dine (one might say, with respect to the restaurants I no longer visit because the food is bad, that my non-patronage is an attempt to "pressure" them to improve their menus and I won't return until my demands are met, but this would again be highly idiosyncratic usage). The expressive meaning of a boycott -- what makes it a boycott as opposed to an unremarkable decision not to patronize -- is a declaration that "I will not transact with you even if you do meet the criteria I normally use."

This highlights another feature of boycotts: by their nature and by design, they stand in opposition to individualized consideration of a candidate on his or her merits. Return to the law school example. Contra the above paragraph, I actually think it is quite rare for a judge to have a flat rule -- as opposed to a strong preference -- to only hire clerks from a certain state or with a certain GPA or possessing a certain academic background (the repeated use of language like "preferences" and "prioritizes" is again a hint here). They would not reject on principle an oddball candidate who doesn't meet one of the normal screens but for whatever reason still stands out to the judge as extraordinary. Now, it may be that given the surplus of qualified candidates, in practice no such "oddballs" ever emerge; there are always enough candidates who fill the normal criteria and are also deemed extraordinary. But again, the point of a boycott is precisely that it entails refusing, in advance and without exception, to even consider the applicant no matter what their merits might be. One refuses to dine at the boycotted restaurant no matter how tasty one of its dishes may be. One refuses to hire from the boycotted school no matter how superb one of its graduates may be.

And this is where the issue of bias does creep in. The putative justification for the blanket boycott of Columbia is that the university is so suffused in antisemitism and broader censorialism that all of its graduates are indelibly tainted -- so much so that the judges are outright refusing to engage in any individualized consideration or assessment of any members of the community. I've observed before and I'll observe again that not only are the nominal victims here -- Columbia's Jews and/or conservatives --covered by the boycott, they are in fact its most likely targets (those harassing Jews on campus were not likely to be applying to the judges in question in the first place). Assessed as individuals, it would be weird to impute the sins of Columbia writ large onto their heads. But the entire point of the boycott is that substitutes collectivist grievance for individualized consideration:

[T]he point of the "boycott" is an announced refusal to judge certain law school graduates as individuals, on their individual merits. There is surely no quarrel with Judge Ho [or other signatories to the boycott letter] declining to hire a clerkship applicant who he deems to have discriminated against conservatives on campus -- one doesn't need a "boycott" to do that (one also suspects those suspects would not be applying to Judge Ho's chambers). Rather, those most impacted by the boycott are most likely to be those victimized by the alleged predatory behavior Ho identifies, or at the very least innocent bystanders. Again, no matter: the payoff -- and indeed, the point -- of Ho's "boycott" is to make it so that these applicants do not get evaluated as individuals. Their individual merits and demerits do not matter. They fall under the umbrella of an enemy collective, and that is all the thinking he needs to do about them.

I recognize, of course, that at some level there is no such thing as truly "individualized" consideration and there is inevitable mushiness around terms like "normal evaluative criteria" (I recognize that; I wish the courts understood it better in the context of affirmative action). But my position is that the very invocation of the term "boycott" is a declaration and a concession to that point: one says one is boycotting because one wants to express that you're not just doing the ordinary work of meritocratic selection. 

To put it starkly: the core, distilled message the signatories of the Columbia boycott are sending vis-a-vis Columbia students is "because of your association with Columbia, we will not assess you as individuals or on your merits. Your association is enough to render you irrebuttably tainted in our eyes." 

Given that, could an attorney who matriculated at Columbia in the relevant time period feel confident that one of these judges would abide by their judicial duty -- will assess their arguments, behavior, and comportment based on their individual performance and "on their merits"? I don't think they can have that confidence, and I think those fears are reasonable.

None of this constitutes an ethics violation -- a judge does not commit an ethics violation simply by engaging in conduct which would, given the right parties or circumstances, compel a recusal. But I do think that any judge who announces an academic boycott of a given law school, in circumstances where that necessarily entails an announced refusal to judge that school's community members as individuals and on their individual merits, can reasonably have their impartiality questioned when later asked to assess the merits and demerits of that school or its graduates.

(There's one other element of the boycott that I haven't heard talked about much: the extent to whether it crosses over from permitted "jawboning" to impermissible government efforts to censor speech. The boycott imposes official sanctions on Columbia unless it makes various alterations to its school speech and disciplinary policies to the satisfaction of the boycotting judges. Obviously, Columbia has no First Amendment right to, for example, violate Title VI. But while it can, as a private university, suppress antisemitic speech, it is not obligated to; and the government cannot compel it to. Less obviously, but perhaps more importantly, as a private university Columbia is not required to abide by any commitment to viewpoint neutrality or "evenhanded" treatment of different types of protesters. While I doubt Columbia would concede the premise that it does engage in any sort of biased behavior -- and my recollection is that the letter was in fact purely speculative on this point -- the point is that Columbia's choices as to what views it does or does not favor are an exercise of its free speech and associational rights, and official efforts to punish the university for expressing itself incorrectly seem to raise significant First Amendment problems).

Monday, April 07, 2025

Be Wary of Rationalizing Hate: The Specter of Park51


The recent wave of government anti-immigrant repression, justified (in part) as a means of "fighting antisemitism", made me think about (of all things) the 2010 effort to scuttle the Park51 Islamic community center in South Manhattan. Opponents of the center, which at the time included the ADL, argued that the center would be insensitive to the victims of 9/11.

Jonathan Greenblatt, to his credit, apologized for the ADL's position (this was, needless to say, before his heel turn). And he's also walking back the ADL's initial support for Trump's deportation wave. I don't give him points for that (or rather, I do, but nowhere near enough to offset the points lost for backing the repression in the first place), but it is worth noting.

In any event, the reason it came to mind is how the logic of the Park51 opponents might extend to how the victims of Trump's anti-immigrant repression will think of Jews. The argument against Park51 is, when you boil it down, that because the 9/11 attack was one perpetrated by Muslim terrorists, the victims of 9/11 were now justified in being biased against Muslims tout court (see also Jody Armour's discussion of the "Involuntary Negrophobe"). It is important to note the extension -- the bias said to be justified is not against al-Qaeda, or even against whichever Muslims provided backing, support, or sympathy for the 9/11 strike (nobody accused the Park51 project of having any such sins on its head). The position being defended was that those victimized by 9/11 were reasonable and justified in being biased against all Muslims, and that their bias was one owed sensitivity and respect from the rest of us -- which is why it could allegedly justify opposition to the mere existence of an Islamic Center in their vicinity.

Under that same logic, it seems clear that those persons harassed and detained under the auspices of Trump's "antisemitism" initiative would be justified in hating Jews. Not just those Jewish groups who are actively assisting in the deportation regime, nor just those which have evinced support or sympathy for it, but all Jews. If we take the Park51 position seriously, if some of these deportees do turn into full antisemites, then we would owe them sensitivity and respect for their hatred.

To be crystal clear: this would be wrong. The ADL got it right the second time; no trauma, no matter how grave, justifies blind and sweeping hatred for an entire religious group. I only mention it because it provides a good warning of the consequences of trying to rationalize hate -- the logic will always come around to bite you too.

The Constitution is in Exile


One of the small mercies of the past few months is that because I'm paternity leave, I am not teaching Constitutional Law right now. Even before the election I was dreading having to incorporate Trump v. United States into my syllabus. Obviously now, things are much, much worse.

When I was in law school, conservatives spoke of teaching about "the constitution in exile" -- the true and proper legal order that for decades had been flouted and suppressed by the courts. Of course, what they meant by that was a world where Social Security was unconstitutional. But today I think it is fair to say that the constitution is, truly, in exile. 

The upper ranks of the federal judiciary is controlled by a cabal with complete and utter contempt for the most basic constitutional values that are meant to guide this nation. Lawless disappearances, dictatorial executive power, impunity for corrupt officials, sabotaging of democratic elections -- it's all here, and it's all embedding itself into the official accounts of constitutional law as recorded in U.S. Reporter. In the foreseeable future, the prospects of undoing these decisions, or even stemming further decay, feel grim. Certainly, legal arguments don't seem likely to save us.

It is tremendously, tremendously depressing to feel as if the "law" one imparts on one's students is irrelevant; that no legal argument they can make, no matter how well-warranted or justified, will make a difference in legal outcomes if the powers-that-be prefer something different. Robert Bolt once characterized the essence of law as "a causeway upon which so long as he keeps to it a citizen may walk safely." When rule of law breaks down, this causeway turns into a mirage -- the citizen (to say nothing of the visitor or resident alien) who tries to keep to it is acutely aware that it might disappear under his feet at any time. The constitution that was supposed to guarantee us the ability to walk safely is, practically speaking, no longer present. It has been exiled, replaced by an usurper.

So what does one do as a constitutional law professor? I've always believed that my primary job, albeit not my only job, is to teach my students what the law and doctrine is, as it is declared by the Supreme Court. This view of my role is not in contrast to taking a more critical perspective -- to the contrary, the point is that foundational knowledge is a prerequisite to any effective critique. One has to know what the law is, in order to know whether the law is good, right, or should remain the law at all. Those more normative conclusions are for my students to draw for themselves; but it is absolutely in my ambit to give them the resources to make those critical judgments.

That view has not changed. But going forward, it will be even more important to contextualize the law as its being articulated today in terms of other possibilities and roads not taken. The law that we have is not something inalterable or inexorable; it is a choice. There are other choices. What are the reasons behind the choices that were made? What are the arguments for making different choices? Which choices fit better inside the broader corpus of legal values and commitments that were meant to guide the American constitutional project? And if we do currently live in a legal order that lies decisively outside the proper constitutional vision, what results? 

There isn't, I think, any need to be didactic about this. The original "constitution in exile" proponents had faith that simply laying out their alternative vision of what the constitution should be would suffice to gain them acolytes. I have similar confidence that the articulating the actual constitution -- the causeway of safety meant to guard us from predatory abuses and overreach -- will earn similar loyalty. And I do not know how long it will take for this constitution to return from its exile. But one must have faith that with enough support and enough commitment from persons who retained their faith in the rule of law, it will return, and will bring its just reckoning.