**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

In American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut (AEP), the Supreme Court explicitly left ajar the door to litigation under state (as opposed to federal) common law for greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. Some plaintiffs’ lawyers are also arguing that the decision leaves room for seeking money damages (rather than injunctive relief) even in a federal common law case.

For purposes of this Essay, let’s imagine a world in which the courthouse doors are swung open to common law claims for damages for GHG emissions, and the courts have rejected all defenses based on displacement, preemption, political question, and standing. In other words, the plaintiffs finally are able to litigate the merits. What would that litigation look like?

Because I have spent thirty years as a practicing environmental litigator (sometimes acting for plaintiffs, sometimes for defendants) prior to entering academia, my head swims with the challenges such a case would pose. Most of the voluminous commentary on the common law GHG cases looks at the threshold issues; let’s now peer across the threshold and see what’s on the other side. What we’ll find is an extraordinary number of open questions that would face the parties and the courts; in this Essay I attempt to enumerate them, without undertaking the daunting task of answering them.

Introduction

February 16, 2011 was a day of reckoning for humankind. A new computer, appropriately dubbed “Watson,” beat the world’s best Jeopardy! players at their own game. At first blush this may not seem so surprising: after all, computers are notoriously better than humans at “recalling” factual knowledge. But Jeopardy! is a game show known for the nuance of its clues, which often contain puns, ambiguities, and other curiosities. Watson’s ability to understand and quickly respond to Jeopardy! questions thus reveals that computers have made great strides in emulating how humans think.

Watson is a computer built for a very specific purpose: to beat humans at Jeopardy!. Since his victory, pundits and IBM staffers have suggested that the technology powering Watson might have many uses—in the gaming world, for example, or improving customer service from much-maligned automated call centers. Only a week after winning the Jeopardy! title, Watson’s creators proclaimed to the annual Healthcare Information and Management Systems Society meeting that “Watson could dramatically improve health care delivery by offering, in minimal time, solutions that have a high level of certainty.” Here I propose how Watson could apply his skills in a legal environment: by helping textualists interpret statutes. New textualists believe in reducing the discretion of judges in analyzing statutes. Thus, they advocate for relatively formulaic and systematic interpretative rules. How better to limit the risk of normative judgments creeping into statutory interpretation than by allowing a computer to do the work?

This Essay considers whether judges might share the job of statutory interpretation with computers like Watson. First, it briefly lays out how new textualists approach statutory interpretation. Second, it describes how Watson’s aptitudes lend themselves to textualist-style statutory interpretation. Finally, the Essay pulls the threads together, discussing how Watson might both aid textualist interpretation and perhaps perform such interpretation on his own.

Introduction

In their recent article in The Yale Law Journal, Professors Richard R.W. Brooks and Alexander Stremitzer make the case for a liberal allowance of rescission and restitution—an “off the contract” remedy that allows a party to a contract to rescind following breach by a counterparty and to receive back the contract price. This Essay argues that Brooks and Stremitzer’s recommendations are based on an incomplete analysis of the effects of rescission rights on the marketplace and are ultimately misplaced.

Brooks and Stremitzer argue that liberal rescission rights will lead to two socially desirable effects: “First, foreseeing the possibility of rescission by counterparties, promisors will invest to enhance the quality of performance . . . . Second, promisors can also make rescission less desirable for counterparties by reducing the price that they charge, implying a lower, less attractive remedy in restitution.” The threat of rescission can thus lead to higher investments in quality and lower prices.

This Essay challenges the second of these claims. Once we broaden Brooks and Stremitzer’s analysis of a single buyer-seller relationship to include multiple buyers, the effect of liberal rescission rights on price might be the opposite of what they predict for two principal reasons. First, promisors will not be incentivized to reduce their prices because lower prices do not lead to a drop in the number of counterparties that opt for rescission. This is because a drop in prices allows low-value buyers to enter the market—an effect Brooks and Stremitzer critically neglect. These buyers have a relatively high probability of opting for rescission, and their entrance can therefore increase the overall number of returns that a seller faces. Second, liberal rescission rights, because they serve a valuable insurance function for the counterparty and are costly to the seller, might actually lead to higher prices. I do not contend that liberal rescission rights will never induce sellers to lower their prices but rather that, under many circumstances, they will either have no effect on sellers’ incentives or may actually induce sellers to raise their prices. Without any evidence as to the likelihood of the differing effects on price, Brooks and Stremitzer cannot enlist the price effect of rescission as an argument in favor of a regime that provides for a more liberal allowance of rescission rights.

Introduction: Democratic Spring

The news is filled with reports of democratic movements challenging authoritarian rule in the Middle East and elsewhere, prompting a nigh unanimous outpouring of support from across the American political spectrum. But a conflict much closer to home—the crisis in Wisconsin and a growing number of states over collective bargaining rights for public-sector workers—has produced a more mixed and complex reaction. To be sure, most polls suggest that a majority of Americans opposes efforts by Republican-dominated state governments to strip public-sector employees of their bargaining rights. But a sizeable minority supports those efforts, and challenges to the role of teachers unions—the public sector’s most visible organized cohort—have been issuing from the right and left alike. And while a consensus may be emerging among the credible commentariat that Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker “overplayed his hand”—using a budget crisis as a pretext for punishing unions he views as political opponents—the frequent portrayal of teachers and other civil servants as members of a privileged and overpaid class who enjoy jobs for life and the benefits of “lavish” health care and pension plans has clearly found some traction with the viewing public, despite the considerable gap between that image and the daily lives of most of those thus portrayed.

But I want to argue here that the stakes in Wisconsin have less to do with the bona fides of budget crises and benefits packages than with something a great deal more fundamental: the struggle between democratic governance and authoritarian control in the American workplace. I don’t wish to overstate the parallel to events in the Middle East, where the courage of the men and women who have joined the unprecedented wave of antigovernment protests is nearly beyond measure. But unions give American workers something that markets and employers seldom afford them and that contemporary American law does not otherwise provide: a genuine voice in important decisions about their work lives and the power to make that voice heard. The attack on public-sector unions thus threatens to exacerbate what is already a breathtaking “democracy deficit” in U.S. labor relations and—should the effort gain traction and succeed—to cut American workers altogether out of a role in workplace governance. Indeed, now that private-sector union representation in the United States has reached a post-World War II low of under 8%, the mantra of Republican state officials that government should be “run like a business” may well portend a clean and decidedly non-union sweep for the public-sector workforce as well.