Articles

Personally identifiable information (PII) is one of the most central concepts in
information privacy regulation. The scope of privacy laws typically turns on
whether PII is involved. The basic assumption behind the applicable laws is that if
PII is not involved, then there can be no privacy harm. At the same time, there is no
uniform definition of PII in information privacy law. Moreover, computer science
has shown that in many circumstances non-PII can be linked to individuals, and
that de-identified data can be re-identified. PII and non-PII are thus not immutable
categories, and there is a risk that information deemed non-PII at one time can be
transformed into PII at a later juncture. Due to the malleable nature of what constitutes
PII, some commentators have even suggested that PII be abandoned as the
mechanism by which to define the boundaries of privacy law.
In this Article, we argue that although the current approaches to PII are flawed, the
concept of PII should not be abandoned. We develop a new approach called “PII
2.0,” which accounts for PII’s malleability. Based upon a standard rather than a
rule, PII 2.0 utilizes a continuum of risk of identification. PII 2.0 regulates information
that relates to either an “identified” or “identifiable” individual, and it establishes
different requirements for each category. To illustrate this theory, we use the
example of regulating behavioral marketing to adults and children. We show how
existing approaches to PII impede the effective regulation of behavioral marketing,
and how PII 2.0 would resolve these problems.

Economic theory that suggests underperforming boards of directors should be fearful of an ouster vote by shareholders underappreciates the complexity of shareholder voting decisions. Skill at enhancing firm value has less to do with whether directors win votes and stay at the helm of public companies than previous commentators have presumed. Instead, like incumbent politicians, managers of some of the largest U.S. firms tend to stay in charge of firms because they understand—and take advantage o —the political dynamics of corporate voting. This Article presents a competing theory of shareholder voting decisions, one that suggests that shareholder voting in corporate elections is not dissimilar from citizen voting in political elections. Next, the Article presents the evidence. Using a hand-collected dataset from recent board elections, the Article compares the explanatory power of a standard economic variable (long-term stock price returns) and a political variable (money budgeted for campaigning) on election outcomes. Based on the data, directors’ ability to enhance firm value (as measured by stock price returns) is not significantly related to whether they win reelection. Rather, the likelihood of being returned to office appears to be a function of typical election politics—how much was spent by challengers to persuade shareholder voters. These findings have at least two implications. First, the theory that shareholder voting may be politicized helps point the way to how the SEC ought to craft reforms—and, just as important, how not to craft them. Recent SEC reform efforts have the laudable goals of creating new conduits for shareholders to participate in firm affairs, increasing shareholder-nominated candidate success, and disciplining incumbent managers.

The results of this study suggest that these reforms will not achieve the stated goals. Even with these reforms, the board continues to have an important political advantage, which likely translates into real votes. As the research here shows, the outcome of elections depends on persuasion and, not simply, as the SEC contends, on shareholders’ director nominees being presented alongside those of management. Second, the evidence and theory about shareholder voting presented here has significant implications for understanding mergers and acquisitions, particularly hostile acquisitions. The theory is that acquirers have steep incentives to target firms with poor performance. In most cases, however, such acquisitions depend on winning a vote from shareholders. Thus, if there is any disciplinary effect created by the prospect of takeovers, it depends crucially on understanding what motivates shareholder voting behavior. If voting shareholders respond to political motivations, not economic ones, then the performance of target board members might not be as relevant as takeover theorists had previously surmised.

For over a century, noncitizens in the United States have faced adverse immigration
consequences if convicted of certain types of offenses in criminal court. Many criminal
convictions carry severe immigration penalties, including deportation, detention,
and the denial of statuses like asylum and U.S. citizenship. The Supreme
Court recently recognized that these penalties are so intimately tied to criminal
court adjudications that criminal defense attorneys have a duty to advise noncitizen
defendants of the immigration consequences of a conviction before the entry of a
guilty plea in criminal court. Yet there is little clarity about how to determine
whether a particular conviction triggers an immigration penalty. Historically, courts
and immigration officials have applied a categorical analysis to assess the immigration
consequences of a criminal conviction. Under a categorical analysis, a court or
immigration official determines the penalties based on an examination of the statutory
definition of the offense, not the factual circumstances of the crime. However,
several recent Supreme Court, federal court, and agency decisions have ignored this
longstanding analysis and have instead examined these issues through the lens of
Taylor v. United States, a criminal sentencing case that adopts a categorical analysis
in a different context. Distinguishing Taylor and its criminal sentencing rationales,
these decisions have invented a new approach to assessing past criminal
convictions in the immigration context. That approach now permits a circumstance-specific inquiry into facts beyond the criminal court’s findings in some immigration
cases. Under these recent decisions, the immigration consequences of a criminal
conviction no longer turn on the criminal court adjudication alone, but may also be
determined by facts that were not proven or pleaded in the criminal court proceeding.
This Article argues that this shift in approach is based on a fundamental
misunderstanding of the origins of categorical analysis in immigration law and its
independent rationales, including its promotion of notice and an opportunity to be
heard, uniformity, predictability, efficiency, and judicial review in the administrative
agency context. This Article further argues that, because of this flaw in the
current debate, courts have failed to consider the negative impact of the erosion of
categorical analysis on the functioning of the current immigration and criminal justice
systems. The rationales for categorical analysis apply with even greater force
today than they did when categorical analysis was first articulated nearly a century
ago. Rather than erode categorical analysis, courts and the agency should require
its robust application in light of its longstanding rationales and modern-day
implications.

This Article seeks to fill a gap in legal history. The traditional narrative of the history of the American racial regulation of marriage typically focuses on state laws as the only sources of marriage inequality. Overlooked in the narrative are the ways in which federal laws also restricted racially mixed marriages in the decades before 1967 (when the Supreme Court invalidated antimiscegenation laws in Loving v. Virginia). Specifically, during the American occupation of Japan after World War II, a combination of immigration, citizenship, and military laws and regulations led to restrictions on marriages along racial lines. These laws also converged to prevent married couples, many of whom were White American soldiers and local Japanese women, from living in the United States together. Accordingly, this Article claims that the confluence of immigration, citizenship, and military laws functioned as a collective counterpart to state antimiscegenation laws.

Because punishable guilt requires that bad thoughts accompany bad acts, the
Model Penal Code (MPC) typically requires that jurors infer the mental state of a
criminal defendant at the time the crime was committed. Specifically, jurors must
sort the defendant’s mental state into one of four specific categories—purposeful,
knowing, reckless, or negligent—which will in turn define both the nature of the
crime and the degree of the punishment. The MPC therefore assumes that ordinary
people naturally sort mental states into these four categories with a high degree of
accuracy, or at least that they can reliably do so when properly instructed. It also
assumes that ordinary people will order these categories of mental state, by
increasing amount of punishment, in the same severity hierarchy that the MPC
prescribes.
The MPC, now turning fifty years old, has previously escaped the scrutiny of comprehensive
empirical research on these assumptions underlying its culpability architecture.
Our new empirical studies, reported here, find that most of the mens rea
assumptions embedded in the MPC are reasonably accurate as a behavioral matter.
Even without the aid of the MPC definitions, subjects were able to distinguish regularly
and accurately among purposeful, negligent, and blameless conduct.
However, our subjects failed to distinguish reliably between knowing and reckless conduct. This failure can have significant sentencing consequences for certain
crimes, especially homicide.

This Article considers a trend toward what I have termed the “new multiculturalism,”
in which conflicts between law and religion are less about recognition
and symbolism and more about conflicting legal orders. Nothing typifies this trend
more than the increased visibility of religious arbitration, whereby religious groups
use current arbitration doctrine to adjudicate their disputes not in U.S. courts and
under U.S. law, but before religious courts and under religious law. This dynamic
has pushed the following question to the forefront of the multicultural agenda:
Under what circumstances should U.S. courts enforce arbitration awards issued by
religious courts in accordance with religious law? Indeed, with growing skepticism
regarding the oppressive potential of religious majorities, critics have questioned
whether religious arbitration has any place in a regime dedicated to individual liberties.
By contrast, this Article contends that current arbitration doctrine can meet
the challenges of the new multiculturalism. To do so, this Article makes two concrete
policy recommendations: (1) courts should redefine the scope of enforceability
of religious arbitration awards by limiting the application of public policy to vacate religious arbitration awards; and (2) courts should expand the application of
the unconscionability doctrine to void religious arbitration agreements.

In 1974, the Supreme Court declared that an Indian employment preference was
based on a “political rather than racial” classification. The Court’s framing of Indianness
as a political matter and its positioning of “political” and “racial” as
opposing concepts has defined the trajectory of federal Indian law and influenced
common sense ideas about what it means to be Indian ever since. This oppositional
framing has had specific practical consequences, including obscuring the
continuing significance of racialization for Indians and concealing the mutually
constitutive relationship between Indian racialization and Indian political status.
This Article explores the legal roots of the political classification doctrine, its
ongoing significance, and the descriptive limits and normative consequences of the
ideas that it contains. Specifically, this Article argues that the political classification
doctrine constructs race as an irrelevant matter of ancestry and Indianness as a
simple matter of civic participation. This Article suggests a new framework for considering
Indian issues and federal Indian law that draws on a more robust and
realistic understanding of both race and Indianness to acknowledge the cyclical
relationship between Indian racialization and Indian political status.

The Supreme Court began its 2009 Term by addressing the constitutional rights of
corporations. It ended the Term by addressing the incorporated rights of the
Constitution. In Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, a five-member
majority of the Court held that corporations have a First Amendment right to spend
their own money on political advocacy. A corporation generally is no different than
a natural person when it comes to the First Amendment—at least as it relates to
political speech. In McDonald v. City of Chicago, a plurality of the Court held that
the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution is incorporated through
the Due Process Clause and applies to states and municipalities. Neither the federal
government nor states may prevent persons from keeping and bearing arms in their
homes for self-defense.

Given this new world in both senses of incorporation, the time has come to explore
the issue of Second Amendment rights and the corporate form. This Article will
offer an analysis of the potential Second Amendment rights of the corporation.
And it will, in the process, provide a more systematic critique of corporate constitutional
rights in general.

Accident compensation, and particularly auto accident compensation, is typically
thought to take one of two dichotomous forms: either no-fault or traditional tort.
Further, conventional wisdom holds that while pure no-fault may be an option in
theory, it is not one in practice. No pure no-fault auto regime has ever been enacted
in the United States, and states these days are repealing, rather than enacting, modified
no-fault legislation. Yet something peculiar is happening on the ground. Far
out of the light of day, high-volume personal injury firms that I call “settlement
mills” are quietly achieving many of no-fault’s objectives—speeding recoveries,
lowering systemic costs, and delivering relatively standardized sums to an apparently
expanded set of clients—while ostensibly operating within traditional tort.
What settlement mills are accomplishing, then, is in some respects astonishing—and
certainly commendable. Yet, the fact settlement mills’ distinctive operations are out
of the light of day and rarely revealed to clients is problematic, raising profound
issues of informed consent and highlighting severe information deficiencies in the
market for legal services. A well-designed disclosure regime can preserve settlement
mills’ substantial benefits, ameliorate their unique costs, and, more broadly,
improve the tort system’s operation and address the vexing problem of attorney
choice.

Federal law is enforced through a combination of public and private efforts. Commentary
on the choice between public and private enforcement has generated a
remarkably stable set of arguments about the strengths and weaknesses of each
type. But the conventional wisdom tells only part of the story, as it ignores variations
within the category of public enforcement. Many federal statutes authorize
civil enforcement by both a federal agency and the states. State enforcement is different
from federal enforcement in several important respects, representing a unique
model of public enforcement. The authority to enforce federal law is also a unique
form of state power. As I show, enforcement authority can serve as a potent means
of state influence by enabling states to adjust the intensity of enforcement and to
press their own interpretations of federal law. To date, enforcement has been
neglected in the federalism literature, which tends to equate state power with state
regulation. But enforcement authority may exist outside of regulatory authority,
allowing states to operate even in areas where state law is preempted or state regulators
have chosen not to act. And enforcement empowers a distinct breed of state
representatives—elected, generalist attorneys general. Just as state attorneys general
differ from federal agencies as agents of enforcement, they differ from state agencies
as agents of federal-state interaction. Moreover, attorneys general in most states
are independent from the state legislature and governor, and may represent different
constituencies. Enforcement authority therefore opens up new outlets for
state-centered policy, empowering actors whose interests and incentives distinguish
them from the state institutions that dominate other channels of federal-state
dialogue.