Hospitals may track patients online and sell their data without violating state wiretap law, high court rules

Mike MacKenzie (via Flickr) CC BY 2.0

State wiretap law does not prevent hospitals from tracking patients on the web and selling their data, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled last week.

The plaintiff is a patient at two hospitals in the Beth Israel Lahey Health network. As the court explained the facts, the plaintiff "reviewed information available to the public on the hospitals' websites regarding doctors (including their credentials and backgrounds) and medical symptoms, conditions, and procedures." Without her consent, the hospitals shared the plaintiff's browsing data with third parties to generate revenue from targeted advertising.

The plaintiff sued under state wiretap law and got some traction in the lower courts, where the theory has bubbled up in other cases, too. The high court ended the trend, though, ruling that the state wiretap law, which threatens criminal penalties such as imprisonment, while reaching interpersonal communications such as telephone calls and email and text exchanges, was not intended to reach persons' interactions with websites.

The 47-page majority opinion by Justice Scott L. Kafker, drew a vigorous and almost as lengthy dissent from Justice Dalila Argaez Wendlandt, who accused the hospitals of lying to patients in their pledges of confidentiality and argued that the alleged misconduct falls squarely within legislative intent in prohibiting the interception of electronic communication.

I won't belabor the back and forth, as ample commentary already has been published about the case (e.g., JD Supra, Commonwealth Beacon, Bloomberg, National Law Review, Law360 (subscription), Massachusetts Lawyers Weekly (subscription)), and there is plenty more to come. Rather, I will comment only that the decision reflects the sorry state of privacy law in the United States.

The majority and dissent both make defensible arguments. I come down with the dissent on the technical merits of what the wiretap law was designed to prevent, i.e. "the spirit of the law," regardless of whether the legislature could have foreseen web surveillance. At the same time, the majority is right that the legislature likely would not have wanted to imprison every actor engaging in the kind of web surveillance that has become pervasive in our online society.

The missing link between the two positions is the meaningful data protection law that the United States still doesn't have, and which Americans want and expect, while almost three decades have passed since the European Union Data Protection Directive. The later General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) has been in force for six years.

Wiretap law was once the stuff of political intrigue, à la Watergate. The Massachusetts statute characteristically dates to the 1960s. Just as the advent of the internet made media law again hotly relevant to society, so wiretap law found new life in the electronic era. Courts had little difficulty transposing the law of wired telephone surveillance to wireless cell phones and electronic communication media such as email and texts. Even the U.S. Supreme Court got in on the action.

That's why I think Wendlandt has the better argument on the technical merits, by the way. The majority's distinction of interaction with a person or a website, when there are persons receiving surveillance data from the website, seems meaninglessly formalistic.

With electronic communication burgeoning in the internet era and electronic interception easier to accomplish without the need for specialized hardware, wiretap laws have been repurposed to do more work than they were designed for, becoming a key tool in the personal privacy arsenal.

The problem in tort law, to oversimplify modestly, always has been what Professor Daniel Solove termed "the secrecy paradigm." The common law of privacy torts, which also emerged largely in the 1960s, was not designed to handle the nuances of an online world. Rather, tort law, like the Fourth Amendment right against search and seizure, focused on secrets kept. A person might resort to the law to protect an intimate secret shared with a spouse. But the person who discloses financial information to a bank has forfeit legal privacy. 

Intimate space is not the theory of privacy that animates data protection in Europe and most of the rest of the world. In the theory abroad, the human right of privacy flows forward with personal data as they are handed off from person to person and corporation to corporation. In the United States, the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) provides a modicum of privacy protection in this vein, but the circumstances in which it pertains are extremely narrow—web activity is not protected health information, and a web host is not a healthcare provider—and it authorizes no private right of action for violation.

In the absence of a legal model of downstream privacy preservation in the United States—notwithstanding a perplexing emerging plethora of competing state laws, if usually limited to commercial contexts; Massachusetts has been working on joining the pack, but has not yet—wiretap law has been unexpectedly instrumental to protect personal privacy in a narrow class of cases, because wiretap law focuses on the misconduct of clandestine surveillance rather than on the purportedly private nature of the intercepted content.

To be fair to the Massachusetts majority, though, such use of anachronistic wiretap law takes us down a road of ever more speculative application as the electronic avatar increasingly becomes an embodiment of personal identity. Electronic tools such as Google Analytics watch our every word. And we don't necessarily want to stop that wholesale. The other day, I watched a dated TV movie that Amazon thought I would like, and it was right. Time travel, Ireland, and Jane Seymour? Drop everything.

Notwithstanding which side in the instant case has the better argument in statutory interpretation, the legal response to the problem presented, that is, surveillance of web usage for the relatively innocuous if mercantile purpose of advertising, would arise better from business regulation than from common law or statutory torts.

Alas, if I had the magic potion that would make our broken Congress favor consumer protection over corporate profits, I would be running for President.

The case is Vita v. New England Baptist Hospital, No. SJC-13542 (Mass. Oct. 24, 2024).

In 'Baywatch' case, court ponders discovery rule for models' tort claims over ads posted on Facebook

Models suing an adult entertainment club occasioned the high court of Massachusetts to ponder the problem of social media and the statute of limitations on media torts in a decision Wednesday.

When I heard that the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court decided a case about Baywatch, I knew I would want to blog about it.

Alas, I was misled. "Bay Watch" in the instant matter has nothing to do with the The Hoff or 1990s TV.

Plaintiffs allege this ad depicts model Paola Cañas.
From Compl. ex. D.

Still, it's an interesting case. Bay Watch, Inc., is the owner of an adult entertainment club in Stoughton, Massachusetts, Club Alex's. In a lawsuit filed in federal district court in June 2021, six globally recognized models alleged that Club Alex's posted their images, some of them in scant swimwear, to Facebook to promote the club, even though none of the models had any association with the club. The models alleged trademark infringement, misappropriation ("right of publicity"), defamation, and conversion.

The issue in the trial court was the statute of limitations for the state tort claims. Sitting on the generous end of the spectrum, Massachusetts allows three years for media tort claims. But the ads the plaintiffs complained about appeared from 2013 to 2015. The district court accordingly granted summary judgment on the tort claims to the defendant in 2023. But on a plaintiff motion to reconsider at the end of the year, the court agreed to certify the limitations question to the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court (SJC).

Alas, not that one (IMDb).

The plaintiffs in the trial court had tried to avail of "the discovery rule," a common law rule that tolls the statute of limitations when it would work an unfairness on a plaintiff who is reasonably not cognizant that she suffered an injury for which there might be a legally responsible actor. 

The discovery rule gets a lot of play in toxic tort cases, in which illness alleged to have resulted from exposure to toxic substances might take years to manifest, and the risk of exposure might not even have been known to the victim at the time. Buttressing his decision with gender-equity-oriented social science, the late Judge Jack Weinstein famously used the discovery rule in the 1990s to give reprieve to plaintiffs suing the makers of DES, a once widely prescribed synthetic estrogen replacement that turned out to be dangerously carcinogenic.

The discovery rule is appealing as a matter of fairness, but applying it can introduce a thorny question of fact. And there are many more thorns when the rule is invoked in a case without the clear delimiters of physical injury.

It's often said, as a default matter, that the limitations period for media torts, such as defamation, runs from the time of publication. Usually that rule works well enough. But in some cases, plaintiffs are able to invoke the discovery rule. If cases are any indication, then defamation occurs in the disruption of business relationships more often than in the pop culture paradigm of media subject versus publisher. A businessperson, for example, might think she lost a contract on the merits of a bid and only later discover that she lost the contract upon the whisper of a false and harmful rumor into the right ear.

Proliferation of media in the internet age has made courts slightly more willing to afford plaintiffs an argument for the discovery rule, because mass media publication in a sea of online content might not rise to an injured's attention as quickly as a story in the town paper in ye olden days. But courts' patience is not without limit. In the online environment, courts have adapted another rule familiar to the conventional interplay of mass media and the discovery rule. As the SJC opined, in part quoting the Massachusetts Appeals Court:

"[W]here an alleged defamatory publication is broadly circulated to the public, and did not involve concealment or confidential communications," the discovery rule will not be applied, and the cause of action will accrue upon publication, as such widespread publication should have been discovered by the plaintiff.

In other words, the limitations period runs upon publication, unless plaintiff can invoke the discovery rule because a reasonable person would not have recognized the harm and arguably causal actor, unless the thing was out there for everyone so the plaintiff should have recognized the harm and arguably causal actor—in which case we come back around to publication again.

If that sounds circular .... Right. The problem with this approach is that if a reasonable person would not have recognized harm, cause, and actor, then, by definition, the plaintiff cannot be expected to have recognized harm, cause, and actor. In tort analysis, the word "should" means "a reasonable person would."

What this approach really allows is for the court to deny the plaintiff the latitude of the discovery rule as a matter of law, and to dismiss, without having to hassle (or Hassel) with the plaintiff's reasonable cognizance as a question of fact suitable for trial. In short, what the court giveth, the court may taketh away.

And that's what happened in the instant case. The federal district court first indicated that it was inclined to dismiss because the ads appeared too long ago. When the plaintiffs tried to invoke the discovery rule, the court was skeptical. These are world famous models with agents whose job it is to scan for unlicensed uses of clients' likenesses, and with lawyers who have sued over misappropriations before. All the same, the court concluded, credibility notwithstanding, these images were out there in the world long enough that the plaintiffs should have found out about them. So no discovery rule.

What seems to have given the court pause on reconsideration is that the images here were posted on social media. A paralegal in the employ of the plaintiffs

attested that there is no software that would allow her to efficiently search for the images in question and that Internet search engines do not search social media posts. As a result, the only available method is this "particularized research of particular establishments." It is this process, presumably, that led the plaintiffs to the defendant's Facebook posts.

But that took time.

The witness had a point. Google seems slow to index social media when it does at all. Many writers have trumpeted "the death of the search engine," as users prefer to seek answers in familiar social media not as polluted as Google search results with commercialization and distortions resulting from digital marketing under the guise of "optimization."

As well, the tech giants seem to have backed off image searching. When reverse image search first came out, I had fun seeing what famous people Google thought I looked like. Now, no matter what image I start with, Google either finds me, or finds nothing, saying, "Results for people are limited. Try searching a larger [image] area." The search tools can't have gotten dumber; that must be a choice. The SJC observed in evidence in the case that Facebook terminated its image search tool in 2021.

You see it, right?

There are now reverse image search apps, by the way, especially for celebrity matches. I'm apparently a dead ringer for UK actress Natalie Dormer (image via Flickr by Gage Skidmore CC BY-SA 2.0, cropped) or the great James Earl Jones (image via Flickr by Phil Davis CC BY-NC-SA 2.0, edited). Eat your heart out, Hollywood. The Celebs app sees me.

The federal district court thus asked the SJC to clarify how the statute of limitations works in a social media world.

In a characteristically methodical opinion for a unanimous court, Justice Scott Kafker stepped through the analysis in 25 pages. The opinion is elaborative, but it adds nothing new. The approach remains: publication, unless discovery rule, unless broad circulation. At greater length in conclusion, here is the court's explanation of the discovery rule in the context of social media:

Claims ... that arise from material posted to social media platforms accrue when a plaintiff knows, or reasonably should know, that he or she has been harmed by the defendant's publication of that material. Given how vast the social media universe is on the Internet, and how access to, and the ability to search for, social media posts may vary from platform to platform and even from post to post, that determination requires consideration of the totality of the circumstances regarding the social media posting, including the extent of its distribution, and the accessibility and searchability of the posting. The application of the discovery rule is therefore a highly fact-specific inquiry, and the determination of whether plaintiffs knew or should have known that they were harmed by a defendant's post on social media must often be left to the finder of fact. If, however, the material posted to social media is widely distributed, and readily accessible and searchable, a judge may determine as a matter of law that the discovery rule cannot be applied.

The record was insufficient, the SJC opined, to determine how the approach should work in the instant case. The plaintiffs had equivocated, the SJC observed, when asked when they first knew about the postings. If they knew before 2018, the court reasoned, then case over. Someone should ask them that.

It is possible for the conventional "whisper" scenario to play out on social media. The SJC cited a California case, Jones v. Reekes (Cal. Ct. App. 2022), in which plaintiff had been blocked from viewing the defendant's postings. Still, the California court concluded that the postings "were otherwise available to the public[,] and the block was easily circumventable;" moreover, the plaintiff was on alert generally to the defendant's derisive commentary. So the plaintiff was precluded from availing of the discovery rule, and the date of publication controlled.

Now I can't unsee it.

Jones was thus not exceptional as a mass media case, and I don't think Bay Watch is either. I suspect the SJC was being deferential to the federal trial court, giving it a chance to make the final call. It seems to me quite clear already that the district court did what the SJC commanded when it first ruled for the defense in 2023. The SJC having confirmed the rule, there seems little more for the district court to do but reenter that judgment.

The result might seem unfair to the assiduously searching plaintiffs, or, more precisely, their agents and lawyers. But the statute of limitations furthers meritorious competing interests, including finality in freedom from legal jeopardy on the part of all publishers.

The case in the SJC is Davalos v. Bay Watch, Inc., No. SJC-13534 (Mass. Sept. 4, 2024) (Kafker, J.) (FindLaw). The case in the federal court is Davalos v. Baywatch, Inc., No. 1:21-cv-11075 (D. Mass. Dec. 15, 2023) (Gorton, Dist. J.) (Court Listener).

UPDATE, Sept. 12: I was saddened to hear of James Earl Jones's passing shortly after I published this post (N.Y. Times, Sept. 9, 2024). All joking of resemblance aside, I was a fan.

High court construes tenure contract to constrain faculty salary cuts at Tufts medical school

TUSM Arnold Wing, 2012, Boston
John Phelan via Wikimedia Commons CC BY 3.0

Academic freedom won a rare court victory last week when the Massachusetts high court allowed claims that Tufts University improperly reduced the salaries of tenured medical faculty.

(As an aside, I wrote just yesterday about academic freedom in the case of FAMU's efforts to fire the law school's first and only tenured Latina professor for speaking on a matter of public concern, namely, the school dean's contentious resignation. Please consider signing the letter in support of Prof. Maritza Reyes.)

In the scrappy remains of what academia has become, the Tufts School of Medicine (TUSM) in the late 2010s told eight faculty that they would have to bring in external research support to cover half their salaries and their lab space, or they would see their salaries and space cut. The eight plaintiffs didn't meet the new standards, and TUSM imposed the cuts.

As things usually go in these cases, the trial court awarded summary judgment to the defense. Much responsibility for the sorry state of academic tenure in the United States can be laid at the feet of its once defenders, such as the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), which became so enamored with procedural arcana in the early 20th century that it forgot the substantive rights it was supposed to be fighting for. I wrote in 2011 about this problem and the urgent need to address it then. The law too often says that as long as a university dots its is and crosses its ts, it can fire for any reason.

The typical bulwark in the tenure contract is simply that firing must be "for cause," a wishy-washy term that reduces the contract practically to year-to-year employment. A university can disavow termination as a violation of civil rights, then turn right around and point to bad breath and a disagreeable disposition as sufficient "cause." Judges usually are eager to defer to universities, reasoning that workers could strike better bargains if they wanted to; they have the AAUP working for them, after all.

Just such ambiguity contributed to the plaintiffs' grief in the instant case. The Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) opined that the term "economic security" in the Tufts tenure contract "is ambiguous." Upon the ambiguity, the term could be not be said to include a guarantee of lab space, and the lower court so concluded correctly.

A state high court typically would send plaintiffs packing wholesale upon deference to university interpretation of the contract. However, the SJC reversed and remanded, concluding that "more evidence is required regarding the customs and practices and reasonable expectations related to salary and full-time status for tenured professors at TUSM, and even other universities and medical schools," to determine whether the compensation reduction violated the contract.

Massachusetts is a labor-friendly state, for better and for worse. The courts are permissive, for example, in "wrongful termination" tort suits that would be shut down in a flash in other states. Here, the SJC was willing to look for evidence that other states' courts would eschew breezily. While I'm usually hesitant to see a court broadly construe a meticulous private contract, I'll here let myself be bettered by anxiety over academic freedom facing evisceration by the looming dismantling of faculty job security.

The plaintiffs in the Tufts case had been awarded tenure at different times, from 1970 to 2009. The SJC looked to the TUSM faculty handbook, which usually is construed as contractual in higher ed employment law. The handbook includes an academic, freedom, tenure, and retirement policy that incorporated language verbatim from the 1940 AAUP Statement on Principles of Academic Freedom and Tenure.

The 1940 statement speaks eloquently to the importance of "freedom of teaching and research and of extramural activities," as well as "a sufficient degree of economic security." All good. But the statement characteristically left "the precise terms and conditions" to ad hoc negotiation, as long as termination is permitted "only for adequate cause" and the result of some kind of review process. That's long left the tenured professor in an AAUP-style contract to wonder whether anything would stop the university from reducing salary to a penny and relocating the professor's office to the boiler room.

When Tufts presented a faculty hearing board with a multi-million operating deficit in the late 2010s, the board was more than willing to throw some faculty under the bus to save the rest. The union at my school did the same thing during the pandemic: eagerly approving faculty salary cuts, and even asking that they be higher, rather than calculating how many quarter-million-dollar-a-year assistant-associate-vice-provost-chancellors we might do without instead. 

Thus, another problem with tenure as we have it is that the AAUP, enraptured as it was and is with collectivism, never thought to consider the need to protect faculty from each other. Unlike the First Amendment, AAUP academic freedom allows the collective to run roughshod over dissenting voices.

With due process duly delivered, the Tufts plaintiffs saw salary reductions from 10 to 50%.

Taking stock of the matter, the SJC concluded, again, exceptionally, that "economic security is an important substantive provision of the tenure contract and not a prefatory or hortatory term." The court relied on the 1940 statement and strained in structuralist contract construction to distinguish a 2022 New York decision to the contrary. 

The record at Tufts probably does not support plaintiffs in resisting any salary reduction, but, the SJC concluded, at least created a question of fact as to how much is too much.

The case is Wortis v. Trustees of Tufts College (Mass. Mar. 14, 2024). Chief Justice Scott L. Kafker wrote the unanimous opinion.

State high court simplifies anti-SLAPP, draws picture

Notwithstanding the merits of anti-SLAPP statutes—I've opined plenty, including a catalog of problems—the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts (SJC) in recent years made a mess of the state anti-SLAPP law by creating an arcane procedure that befuddled and frustrated the lower courts.

Yesterday the SJC admitted the arcanity and clarified the procedure. I'll note that one thing I like about the Mass. law is that it has a focused trigger in petitioning activity; that's not changing. It'll take me some time to work through the 50 pages of the opinion. But to my delight, there's a picture! The SJC kindly created a flow chart:

The case is Bristol Asphalt Co. v. Rochester Bituminous Products, Inc. (Mass. Feb. 29, 2024). The court then helpfully applied the new framework in another case the same day, Columbia Plaza Associates v. Northeastern University (Mass. Feb. 29, 2023). (Temporary posting of new opinions.)

The court's unofficial top technocrat, Chief Justice Scott L. Kafker authored both opinions. The court affirmed in both cases, denying the anti-SLAPP motion to strike in Bristol Asphalt and granting it in Columbia Plaza, so the lower courts waded their way to correct conclusions despite the mire.

Court quashes $19m side deal in casino creation

Encore Boston Harbor, shiny and new in 2018.
Photo by Pi.1415926535 via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0

A $19m side deal in a major casino real estate transaction is invalid and unenforceable as a matter of public policy, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled this morning.

The ruling demonstrates the rarely seen hand but overriding importance of public policy in the law of obligations. The state high court was answering a certified question from the First Circuit.

First, some context.

For the record, nobody does corruption in America like northeasterners. It's been eye opening for me, living in this part of this country for the first time in my life, since moving here in 2011: the weird way roads and bridges remain perpetually under construction for decades—the orange barrel is said to be Rhode Island's state flower; the revolving doors that shuffle politicians between corporate boards and regulatory bodies and back again. Everywhere I've lived—"developed" world or not—I've seen the continuum of corruption that runs from smoke-filled rooms to the open-and-legal-yet-shocking. But you have to take your hat off to the New York-Boston corridor, where milking the system is a way of life. If the taxpayer is a cash cow, then this is Big Ag.

It's for that reason that I have found myself strangely attracted, like a rubbernecker to a car wreck, to everything having to do with the creation of a Wynn-operated casino complex, the Encore Boston Harbor, in the once rusty, quaint, and relatively sleepy Boston suburb of Everett. 

I liked Everett when I discovered it. It's rough around the edges, but genuine. I had to be there now and then, and I found both a corner bar and a gym I liked. Everett reminded me of the working-class neighborhoods of my hometown Baltimore. First news of a casino project in Everett broke when I arrived in New England in 2011, so I became interested in the natural social science experiment that ensued.

A piece of the development of the Encore project landed in the courts. When Wynn enterprises sought to site a casino in Everett, they offered to buy land from an outfit called FBT Everett Realty, LLC, for $75m. And because Wynn also was looking for a casino license, the real estate transaction drew the attentive oversight of the Massachusetts Gaming Commission.

As anyone who studies development will tell you, these major land acquisitions are always suspect. I remember when Baltimore announced plans to build the twin Ravens and Orioles stadiums in the heart of downtown, and there were rumblings, however futile, about the strangely coincidental land rush that had occurred in the area prior to the announcement. Too many buyers had political connections, and they profited handsomely by flipping their deeds over to the quasi-public stadium projects. That's how economic opportunity works in America, at least for people who pay the lower tax rates for capital gains.

In Massachusetts in 2011, the commonwealth had newly opened itself to big-time, Las Vegas-style gambling, so the commission was under heavy scrutiny to do its due diligence. Though it couldn't prove the precise relationship, as the Supreme Judicial Court explained, the commission suspected that an FBT co-owner was "a convicted felon with possible connections to organized crime": naturally, a red flag in gaming regulation. To its credit, the commission put the brakes on the real estate transaction and conditioned its casino approval on a renegotiation. FBT had to buy out its suspicious stakeholder, and the purchase price was dramatically reduced to $35m.

One minority owner of FBT was unhappy with the new deal and demanded compensation for the reduction. It happened that the same minority owner had bought out the interest of the problematic co-owner and still owed him money. To quell the quarrel and get the deal done, Wynn made a side deal in which it would pay the minority owner $19m, a proportional share of the price reduction that had satisfied the commission.

Wynn didn't pay, and the minority owner sued, alleging breach of contract, common law fraud, and unfair trade practices under the commonwealth's powerful and wide-ranging consumer protection statute, "chapter 93A." Ultimately resulting in the instant case, the First Circuit asked the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court to assess the enforceability of the side deal.

The high court opened its analysis with the supreme public policy of America, "The general rule of our law is the freedom of contract" (quoting Massachusetts precedent that in turn quoted the U.S. Supreme Court in Smith v. The Ferncliff (1939)). "However," the court qualified, "it is 'universally accepted' that public policy sometimes outweighs the interest in freedom of contract, and in such cases the contract will not be enforced" (also quoting state precedents).

I just finished a unit of 1L torts in which the class sees the interaction of tort with contract and equity principles in the assumption of risk. Specifically, we see how theories in equity, if rarely, can quash a cause of action or vitiate an affirmative defense. I hasten to clarify that public policy, like equity, is not a rule of law. It's like someone saying to the court "I should win, despite the rule, because that's what's best for society." It's why the judge gets to wear a sharp black robe, sit on a dais, and wield a gavel: to bring human judgment to bear when the usual operation of law would defy common sense. It's why judges cannot be replaced by AI. Yet.

Gaming regulation is among the "core police powers" of the political branches, the court reasoned. And the legislature clearly empowered the gaming commission to ensure "the integrity of the gaming licensing process" with "strict oversight" and "a rigorous regulatory scheme." The $19m side deal was within the scope of the commission's broad mandate. The deal had not been disclosed to the commission and it was inconsistent, the court opined, with the property sale that the commission approved.

The court had little trouble concluding: "Secret deals in violation of the public terms and conditions required for gaming licensure are unenforceable violations of public policy. They place in grave doubt the integrity of the public process for awarding the license, and thereby defeat the public's confidence in that process."

The Encore project has been a powerful economic boost to communities north of Boston, including Everett, delivering an infusion of business in the billions of dollars. The construction phase especially yielded social and economic benefits, creating jobs and opportunity.

Of course, the secondary effects of "sin" businesses such as casinos don't turn up until the projects have been in operation for awhile, and then especially as they age and decline in high-end commercial appeal. To date, there is conflicting evidence on the social impact of Encore with regard to factors such as crime and the environment. For me, the jury is still out on whether north Boston will see a net benefit from Encore in the long term. I hope it does, but I'm skeptical.

Game on.

The case is Gattineri v. Wynn MA, LLC, no. SJC-13416 (Mass. Nov. 3, 2023). Justice Scott L. Kafker wrote the unanimous opinion of the court. The case in the First Circuit is Gattineri v. Wynn MA, LLC, no. 22-1117 (1st Cir. Mar. 22, 2023) (referring questions).

Mass. court affirms big verdict against Big Tobacco

Autodesigner via Wikimedia Commons CC0 1.0

Last week, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court affirmed a lung cancer victim's verdict against Marlboro maker Philip Morris (PM).

Arising from verdict in a $37m case against PM and co-defendants, including R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Co. and Star Markets, the decision broke no new ground, but might be instructive for students of product liability.

On appeal, PM did not "dispute that the plaintiffs introduced sufficient evidence of agreement between it and the other cigarette entities to deceive the public about the dangers of smoking.... Further, [PM did] not dispute the evidence of medical causation, i.e., that smoking causes the type of cancer from which Greene suffered."

Rather, PM asserted that the plaintiff failed to connect causally her choice to smoke to specific misrepresentations. The court wrote that PM viewed the evidence too narrowly, and that the plaintiff sufficiently "met this requirement by introducing evidence of her detrimental reliance on the conspiracy's misrepresentations regarding filtered cigarettes. [PM] represented that such products, including Marlboro Lights, delivered lower tar and nicotine and were a healthier alternative to regular cigarettes."

The plaintiff also met the burden of proving causation on a count of civil conspiracy. "The conspirators expressly misrepresented to the public that they would not have been in the business of selling cigarettes if cigarettes were truly dangerous," the court reasoned. Consequently, "the jury could have found that [the plaintiff] would have smoked less, or quit sooner, absent the conspiracy's campaign of fraud and deception."

PM also pointed to the court's 2021 adoption of the Third Restatement approach to causation (on this blog) to argue that the jury was erroneously instructed on "substantial causation." The court ducked the question by finding that counsel had not preserved their objection to the jury instructions.

Finally, the court upheld the award as against PM challenges to the trebling of damages under Massachusetts consumer protection law and the commonwealth's 12% judgment interest rate.

The case is Greene v. Philip Morris USA Inc., No. SJC-13330 (Mass. May 9, 2023). The unanimous opinion was authored by Justice Scott L. Kafker, who also wrote the opinion in the 2021 causation case.

Tort-contract distinction cannot block damage multiplier, Mass. high court holds in lease dispute

Photo by Yonkers Honda CC BY-SA 2.0 via Flickr

A landlord may not rely on a limitation-of-liability provision in a commercial lease to evade a damage multiplier under Massachusetts consumer protection law, the Supreme Judicial Court ruled in January, regardless of whether the case is characterized as tort or contract.

The dispute arose between plaintiff-tenant Majestic Honda and its LLC landlord, owned by Alfredo Dos Anjos. Majestic accused the defendant of bad-faith lease termination, and the trial court agreed.

Massachusetts General Laws chapter 93A, under which Majestic brought its case, is a famously potent statutory remedy. Ostensibly its section 11 is a consumer protection law like any of the unfair trade practices prohibitions found throughout the states. But the statute has been read broadly in Massachusetts to operate at or beyond the margins of what lawyers usually regard as "consumer protection."

Moreover, section 11 authorizes double and treble damage awards upon "willful or knowing" misconduct. Massachusetts does not recognize punitive damages at common law, only by statute. Chapter 93A also has a four-year statute of limitations, sometimes an advantage to plaintiffs over the usual Massachusetts limitations period of three years for most tort actions.

Thus, as a result of permissive construction and powerful incentives for plaintiffs, chapter 93A is invoked frequently in what would be merely common law tort cases in other states, even to the exclusion of the common law claim in Massachusetts. Chapter 93A also is used in public enforcement, as in the Attorney General's present litigation to hold Big Oil accountable for climate change.

Tort and contract claims can be subsumed into the same 93A framework, blurring the classical distinction. The distinction is especially weak in product liability cases, in which Massachusetts plaintiffs almost always rely on 93A, in part because the commonwealth has recognized strict product liability as an extension of quasi-contractual warranty rather than as an evolution of common law negligence.

I am not a Massachusetts lawyer, and I am careful to disclaim to my 1L torts students that I am not well versed in 93A practice. It is its own field and cannot be folded into tort fundamentals. But, I admonish, they should endeavor to learn more if they intend to practice tort litigation in Massachusetts. My supremely talented colleague Professor Jim Freely once regularly taught a 93A course, but I don't think it's been offered since he was drafted (no pun intended) into the legal skills program.

Insofar as section 93A's damage multiplier is punitive in nature, it should not be disclaimable by a tort defendant, else the legislature's intended deterrent effect would be rendered moot. Upon this logic, the Massachusetts Appeals Court looked in past cases to discern whether the plaintiff's claim analogized more closely to tort or contract, to determine whether a limitation-of-liability provision should be allowed to nullify extraordinary statutory damages.

In fairness to the Appeals Court, the Supreme Judicial Court did roughly the same thing in 2018 when it applied a statute of repose for tort claims arising from real property to a 93A action, even though 93A itself has no repose period; three justices dissented from that ruling.

Here, the analogical approach is wrong, the Supreme Judicial Court decided unanimously. The court wrote, per Justice Scott Kafker, "Because G. L. c. 93A establishes causes of action that blur the distinction between tort and contract claims, incorporating elements of both, we do not adopt this formulation." The court further explained,

Our cases have also pointed out that a c. 93A claim is difficult to pigeonhole into discrete tort or contract categories, as c. 93A violations tend to involve elements of both tort and breach of contract, blurring the lines between the two. As we explained in [prior cases], "[t]he relief available under c. 93A is 'sui generis,'" being "neither wholly tortious nor wholly contractual in nature." Hence, a "cause of action under c. 93A is 'not dependent on traditional tort or contract law concepts for its definition.'"

After all, the court reasoned, the legislative intention to deter willful or knowing misconduct is not a function of whether the wrong is a tort or a breach of contract.

At a theoretical level, the vast gray area of 93A in Massachusetts law might have broader implications for the classical distinction between tort and contract, namely, whether the distinction will or should persist at all in contemporary common law. Massachusetts 93A practice might prove instructive as courts in many common law jurisdictions, such as Canada, reconsider the vitality of the so-called "economic loss rule," a historic marker of the tort-contract distinction that forbade tort actions in the absence of physical injury or damage.

The case is H1 Lincoln, Inc. v. South Washington Street, LLC, No. SJC-13088 (Mass. Jan. 24, 2022).

Employer may not fire for personnel rebuttal, high court holds, even though statute provides no remedy

Pixy.org CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

Reversing a problematic and divided intermediate appellate court decision, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court held in December that an at-will, private-sector employee may not be terminated for exercising a statutory right to rebut negative information in the employee's personnel file.

I wrote here at The Savory Tort about the intermediate appellate court decision in January 2021:

Plaintiff Terence Meehan, an employee discharged by defendant Medical Information Technology, Inc. (Meditech), availed of a Massachusetts statute that generously empowers an employee to rebut in writing negative information placed into the employee's personnel file.  The purpose behind the statute is to build a record so that a public authority, such as the state anti-discrimination commission, can better investigate any later legal claim of improper adverse action.  But the procedural mechanism of the statute, merely allowing the employee to rebut the record, does not itself articulate a basis in public policy to resist termination, the court held.

The Appeals Court had struggled with the case, deciding it 3-2 on rehearing after an initial 2-1 ruling against Meehan.  I commented then: The outcome was not inconsistent with American courts' general inhospitality to public policy-based claims of wrongful termination.  At the same time, the outcome was discordant with Massachusetts's more liberal disposition on wrongful termination, especially considering the civil rights-protective vein of the rebuttal statute.

The Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) recognized that public-policy constraints on at-will employment termination must be narrowly construed.  But constraint 

has been recognized "for asserting a legally guaranteed right (e.g., filing a worker's compensation claim), for doing what the law requires (e.g., serving on a jury), or for refusing to do that which the law forbids (e.g., committing perjury)" [SJC's added emphasis].... In addition to these three categories, this court subsequently created a fourth category to protect those "performing important public deeds, even though the law does not absolutely require the performance of such a deed." .... Such deeds include, for example, cooperating with an ongoing criminal investigation.

The rebuttal statute fell in the first category, the SJC held.  The trial court and Appeals Court had improperly second-guessed the importance of the statutory right and discounted it for its relation primarily to internal private affairs.  Those considerations bear on the fourth category, the court explained.  The legislative pronouncement is conclusive in the first category.

Even so, the court opined, the right of rebuttal is important, because it facilitates compliance with other workplace laws, "such as workplace safety, the timely payment of wages, and the prevention of discrimination, and nonemployment-related activity, such as those governing the environment and the economy."

While the lower courts were put off by the legislature's seemingly exclusive express remedy of a fine for non-compliance, the SJC regarded the omission of a retaliation remedy as mere failure to anticipate.  "Indeed," the court opined, retaliatory termination "would appear to be sticking a finger in the eye of the Legislature.... We conclude that the Legislature would not have permitted such a flouting of its authority, had it contemplated the possibility."

An employee claiming wrongful termination still has a hard road to recovery.  The court emphasized that causation, connecting rebuttal and termination, may raise a question of fact in such cases, and here on remand.  Moreover, an employee can overstep and forfeit common law protection.  The statute "does not extend to threats of personal violence, abuse, or similarly egregious responses if they are included in the rebuttal."

The case is Meehan v. Medical Information Technology, Inc., No. SJC-13117 (Mass. Dec. 17, 2021).  Justice Scott Kafker wrote the opinion of the unanimous court.

Facebook shields records from Mass. AG inquiry

The Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court today ruled on efforts by Facebook to resist disclosures arising from an internal investigation into application development.  The disclosures are sought by the commonwealth attorney general, which is investigating allegations of consumer data misuse.

AG Healey
(Zgreenblatt CC BY-SA 3.0)

The court's ruling is mixed, but, overall, Facebook gained ground.  The court allowed Facebook more latitude than it won in the lower court to resist disclosure on grounds of attorney work product.  On remand, the lower court will have to scrutinize the records to separate attorney opinion, which is protected, from mere facts, which are not.  The SJC agreed with the lower court that one set of records was within attorney-client privilege, and Facebook will have to produce a privilege log.

Facebook seems to be taking seriously the investigation by the office of Attorney General Maura Healey, and it should.  The company hired fixer-firm Gibson Dunn to handle its internal investigation and is represented by Wilmer Hale in the Massachusetts investigation.  Massachusetts data protection regulation is antiquated relative to the latest generation of regulations in Europe and California, but the law has been on the books for more than a decade.  The AG was represented in the SJC by attorney Sara Cable, whose appointment last year as the office's first chief of data privacy and security signaled an intent to ramp up data protection.  Massachusetts consumer protection law, "93A," the basis of the AG investigation here, is famously expansive, often displacing common law tort in private enforcement and affording generous damages.

Justice Scott Kafker wrote the lengthy opinion for the court in Attorney General v. Facebook, No. SJC-12946 (Mass. Mar. 24, 2021).  Justice Kafker is on a tear of late, having written the court's opinion in a sea change in tort law in late February and the court's unanimous ruling against Gordon College in a First Amendment religious freedom case on March 5.

State supreme court upends causation in tort law, promising plenty post-pandemic work for lawyers

"Cause and Effect" by Marina Noordegraaf CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

The high court of Massachusetts, in a 3-2 decision, has effected a seismic shift in tort law, adopting on Friday a new approach to legal causation.

The court's holding casts into uncertainty fundamental rules developed over more than a century across the full range of tort liability theories.  Years, even decades of litigation may be required to fully map out the change.

In short, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court rejected the conventional rule of "substantial causation" in favor of analyzing "scope of liability" and "multiple sufficient cause," an approach counseled by the Third Restatement of Torts: Liability for Physical and Emotional Harm (2010), an influential scholarly treatise published by the nonprofit American Law Institute (ALI).  The court ordered the change for only some cases in negligence, but left open the possibility that the change would affect the whole of tort law in the Commonwealth.

Aristotle by Francesco Hayez (1811)

Cause and Effect

Almost every liability in tort law requires causation.  That is, a defendant is only liable when the plaintiff can prove that her or his injury was caused by the defendant.  But the meaning of cause has been famously elusive in law and a subject of multidisciplinary debate for millennia, spanning Aristotle's metaphysical analytics in 4th century B.C. philosophy, St. Thomas Aquinas's meditation on the existence of God in 13th century theology, and the problem of quantum superposition in 21st century physics.

Causation in law is dominated by the concept of "scientific causation," termed informally "but-for cause," and known also as "factual causation."  To recover, a plaintiff must prove causation by showing that but for the conduct of the defendant, the plaintiff would not have been injured or suffered loss.

Scientific causation goes a long way to providing a legal standard, but not all of the way.  Legal scholars have long recognized that the approach has shortcomings, especially in cases of "overdetermined" causation.  That is, the test sometimes fails to indicate causation in the presence of multiple culpable defendants.  The test also sometimes indicates causation for one defendant, of many, whose culpability is so minimal as to be exonerating.

Image by State Farm (CC BY 2.0)

The classic example of improper failure of causation is a plaintiff's home consumed by two converging fires.  The multiple causes of destruction are said to "overdetermine" the harm.  The jury might conclude that but for either fire, the home would have been consumed anyway by the other fire.  Thus, it seems, neither fire is a but-for cause of the destruction.  At best, it is difficult, if not impossible, for the jury to determine whether either fire was a but-for cause.  Yet it cannot be right that the arsonist who started only one of the fires escapes civil liability.  If either fire by itself would have destroyed the home, then each fire is a "sufficient" cause of the destruction, and that standard supports liability.

Pixabay by Gerd Altmann

In rarer cases, but-for causation indicates causation when common sense suggests otherwise.  Imagine that science one day so masters the complexity of weather systems that it can be proved that but for the beating of a carpet on a Cape Town balcony, a hurricane would not have struck New York ("the butterfly effect," like in time travel, but not really).  The carpet beater might be a scientific cause of the hurricane, but we would be reluctant to say that the carpet beater is responsible for the hurricane.  The principle can be extrapolated to physical systems known to contemporary science, such as human pathology.  Consumption of a single cigarette might be proved to have catalyzed cancer in the plaintiff, alongside other causes, such as genetic predisposition and a history of pipe smoking.  But we might not agree that the proven catalysis by itself is a sufficient reason to charge the cigarette seller with civil liability for the whole of plaintiff's suffering.

To better calibrate the rule of causation to tort liability, American tort law in the 20th century developed the concept of "substantial causation," sometimes, if at risk of imprecision, called "legal causation" or "proximate causation."  Liability came to require that the defendant's conduct was a scientific cause and a substantial cause of the plaintiff's injury, or, in rare cases fitting the fire paradigm, a substantial cause indivisible from other sufficient causes, together constituting a scientific cause.

Pixy (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

A Substantial Disagreement

The rule of substantial causation attracted adherents and opponents.  Adherents said that the concept worked well, because it is understandable to ordinary people, especially jurors.  Tort law is about enforcement of the unwritten social contract.  We, ordinary members of the society, have a shared intuition about when a scientific cause is as powerful as a home-wrecking fire, justifying declaration of a civil wrong.  Likewise, possessed of common sense, we can recognize a trivial scientific cause as an insufficient basis to impose liability.

Precisely so, opponents responded.  Substantial cause invites a jury to disregard proof of scientific causation and to make moral judgments about responsibility.  The rule employs the hopelessly amorphous standard of substantiality to allow juries and courts to make policy and conceal their hubris with the aroma of equitable legitimacy.

The policy-making potential of legal causation was not lost on lawyers and jurists, many of whom embraced it as socially desirable.  One can argue that civil juries, guaranteed by the Seventh Amendment and heralded by Alexis de Tocqueville, if mocked by Mark Twain and Dave Chappelle, are the inspired mechanism with which America democratically injects public policy into the civil trial.

Pixy (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

And although causation devolves to the jury as a question of fact, a court has the power to obviate the need for an expensive jury trial when a question cannot be decided but one way by ordinary minds.  In such circumstances, the question is said to be decided as a matter of law.  Thus, substantiality was termed "legal causation" and offered grounds for a judge to dismiss a case, rather than let the liability question reach the jury.

Judges might be more or less bold or overt in how they exercise power through legal causation, depending on how their jurisprudential philosophies regard the propriety of judicial policy-making.  In a highly regarded paper in 1983, economically minded scholars William Landes and Richard Posner suggested that if the facts of a case point erroneously toward a politico-economically inefficient result, "cause comes to the rescue."  In other words, the rule of legal causation empowers the court to direct the outcome and "the optimal result to be achieved."  (Both Landes and Posner are affiliated with the University of Chicago Law School, known for its commitment to law and economics; Justice Kafker earned his law degree there.)

A Third Way

Substantiality detractors got the better of the argument when the ALI drafted the Third Restatement in the 20-aughts.  The authors did not take policy and pragmatism wholly out of the judicial process, but sought to abate confusion about where they reside by moving them.  The Third Restatement approach moves "legal causation" from the "cause" element of negligence into a new inquiry, "scope of liability."  The similarly ancillary function of the "duty" element of negligence also was moved and merged at this new address, though that's a blog post for another day (and a question left open by the Massachusetts ruling).  The new approach means to give judge and a jury a place to circumscribe defendant liability exposure without the semantic gamesmanship arguably required by the conventional analysis of causation and duty.

The restatement project is often criticized for seeking to progress the law rather than merely restate it.  The line is finer than it might seem.  On this point, one certainly can say that the authors intended to change the law of the states.  At the same time, it's equally defensible to say that the authors sought to help the states to clarify the law, that is, to better state, or restate, what they were doing already.

Pulmonary embolism by Baeder-9439 (CC0 1.0)

A Tale of Two Causes

The case before the Court in Massachusetts involved the death of a patient and two instances of medical malpractice.  Plaintiff Laura Doull died from complications of chronic thromboembolic pulmonary hypertension, or CTEPH.  The jury determined that a nurse practitioner was negligent in failing to diagnose Doull with a pulmonary embolism in 2011, and that Doull's doctor was negligent in supervision of the nurse practitioner.  However, the jury also determined that neither instance of negligence was a but-for cause of Doull's death from CTEPH; in other words, Doull's death was a consequence of her illness and not of anything the nurse practitioner and doctor did, right or wrong.  The defendants were not responsible.

On appeal, the plaintiff argued, among other theories, that the trial judge had not instructed the jury properly.  The trial court had instructed the jury on but-for causation, but not on substantial causation.  All five justices who heard the case for the Supreme Judicial Court affirmed the judgment for the defendants.  The court was unanimous in holding that the plaintiff's case must fail, because the jury determined that but-for causation failed.  First, there was no need for the jury to consider legal causation when there was no factual causation.  Second, this case was not about two fires converging on a house.  Though a consequence of two actors, there was only one misdiagnosis.

Justice Kafker

In a majority opinion authored by Justice Scott Kafker and joined by Chief Justice Kimberly Budd and Justice Elspeth Cypher, the court reached the sweeping conclusion that the Commonwealth adopts the Third Restatement approach to causation.  The change makes no difference in the instant case, because but-for causation still is required under the Third Restatement approach, in fact is the nub of what remains in the causation element, legal cause having been removed to scope of liability.  The concurrence, authored by Justice David Lowy and joined by Justice Frank Gaziano, would not have changed the Commonwealth's approach to causation, but would have ruled that the omission of the substantiality instruction was harmless error.

The plaintiff's argument predicated on failure to instruct on substantiality played into the majority's position on the Third Restatement.  Recall that critics of substantiality contend that it invites jurors to disregard scientific evidence and reach a liability determination despite the failure of but-for causation.  Because but-for causation was required, and the jury found it absent, the plaintiff's plea of error suggests that an instruction on legal causation should have been permitted to obfuscate the jury's view of factual causation.  "What originated as an exception to but-for causation would swallow the rule," the majority wrote.  The old approach "blurred the line between factual and legal causation," indeed, "conflates and collapses the concepts of factual and legal causation." 

Image by johnny-automatic (CC0 1.0)

In most cases, the court majority concluded, the but-for instruction on causation alone is sufficient, even when there are multiple potential causes.  "There is nothing preventing the jury from assessing the evidence and determining which of the causes alleged by the plaintiff were actually necessary to bring about the harm, and which had nothing to do with the harm," the majority reasoned, and the jury did just that in the instant case.  As to the paradigmatic two-fire scenario, the court wrote that

in the rare cases presenting the problem of multiple sufficient causes, the jury should receive additional instructions on factual causation.  Such instructions should begin with the illustration from the Restatement (Third) of the twin fires example so that the complicated concept can be more easily understood by the jury.

After the illustration, the jury should be instructed, "A defendant whose tortious act was fully capable of causing the plaintiff's harm should not escape liability merely because of the happenstance of another sufficient cause, like the second fire, operating at the same time."  The jury should then be instructed that when "there are two or more competing causes, like the twin fires, each of which is sufficient without the other to cause the harm and each of which is in operation at the time the plaintiff's harm occurs, the factual causation requirement is satisfied."

In such cases, where there are multiple, simultaneously operating, sufficient causes, the jury do not have to make a but-for causation finding.

(Footnote and citation omitted; paragraph breaks added.)  The majority also noted, likewise as counseled by the Third Restatement, that a jury may be admonished to disregard trivial causes to redress the rare problem of a false positive in but-for causation.

Justice Lowy

Cross Concurrence and Tort Retort

The concurrence disagreed sharply over the abandonment of substantial causation, and the text of the opinion hints at a heated debate.  "Today the court abandons decades of precedent in an attempt to clarify confusion that does not exist," Justice Lowy opened.  "Abandoning the substantial contributing factor instruction in circumstances where there is more than one legal cause of an injury will, in my view, inure to the detriment of plaintiffs with legitimate causes of action while not clarifying the existing law of causation."

Substantiality has long been the rule for clarity in cases of multiple potential causes, Justice Lowy explained.  It was the approach of the Second Restatement, published in 1965, and before it, the First Restatement, published in 1939, and appeared in Massachusetts case law as early as 1865.  

The test has endured because it works, Justice Lowy reasoned.  The "counterfactual framing" of the but-for test, compelling the jury to imagine a reality in which a defendant's conduct did not occur, paints only half a picture and risks misleading the jury.  In multiple-cause cases, counterfactuals "invite the jury to get caught up in speculative combinations of 'what if' and 'if only,'" Justice Lowy wrote.  "In the sorts of byzantine fact patterns that often arise in medical malpractice, toxic tort, and other tort cases with multiple causes, an instruction on but-for causation provides defendants with tools unavailable to plaintiffs," such as blaming a party not on trial (civil "Plan B").

Pixabay by b0red

The substantiality test "focus[es] jurors' attention" inversely: "it frames causation to have a juror start by considering what actually happened, and whether the defendant's actions played a part in producing the result."  The instruction "focuses the jurors ... directly on what ought to determine legal responsibility: the conduct of the parties."

The concurrence accused the majority of "abandon[ing] what has been our steady and successful practice" of instruction on substantiality.  "Why the sudden about-face?" the concurrence asked rhetorically, then answered: "Only one thing has changed: the Restatements."  In the majority's reasoning, the concurrence observed, "citations to our cases drop off.  Instead, the court replicates an abstract and academic discussion of the problems that the Restatement (Third) of Torts found with the standard" (footnotes omitted).

In footnotes, the concurrence suggested that any confusion results from the Third Restatement's cross-jurisdictional comparison, which omits Massachusetts, and observed, citing Hawaii, that other states have continued to test for substantiality in the decade since the Third Restatement appeared.

The majority responded in its footnotes.  The Third Restatement approach has not been adopted nowhere.  The Iowa Supreme Court adopted the Third Restatement in 2018, the majority noted.

Pixy (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

Referencing judicial confusion over multiple causes, the majority noted: "For an example of this confusion, look no further than the concurrence."  The majority disputed the concurrence's conclusion that the Third Restatement approach favors defendants.  And the majority rebutted the concurrence's assertion that the substantiality test has been working: "Beyond the concurrence's own appraisal of the situation, it is not clear what evidence, empirical or otherwise, there is that the use of the standard has been 'steady and successful.' ....  Indeed, when forced to decide what standard to use, the experienced and capable trial judge in this case observed, 'Well ... I know that the law has been somewhat confused in some people's eyes ....'"

The majority took umbrage at the concurrence's suggestion that the court would change Commonwealth law simply to pursue the lead of the Restatement.

The concurrence minimizes the numerous extensive critiques of the substantial factor test....  The concurrence also suggests that we are somehow simply following academic fashion in adopting the Restatement (Third).  This statement ignores that the substantial factor test originated with the Restatement and that the case law the concurrence cites ... has demonstrated great respect for the development of the law as reflected by the Restatement of Torts....  We turn to the Restatement not because it is fashionable to do so, but because the American Law Institute has struggled greatly with the complicated question of causation in negligence cases and is constantly trying to improve the legal standard in this area, including recognizing its own errors in this regard.

Justice Kafker is a member of the ALI.

"The Restatements are owed respect," Justice Lowy retorted.  "Our cases, however, deserve more."

But What About

I'm not a fan of change.  The worst part of all of this for me is that from here on out, I am going to have to teach Massachusetts torts students two versions of attenuated duty and causation, which already is the longest and hardest chapter of the textbook.  Am I going to get more credit-hours to cram it all in?  No.  Am I going to get paid more to prep more?  Definitely no.  And then there are the unanswerable questions.

Asbestos shingles by Mary Lotus (CC BY-SA 3.0)

The instant case arose in medical malpractice, though the majority extended the new causation rule through negligence.  Or most of it.  The court explicitly declined to apply the new rule in cases of toxic torts, at least for now.  Toxic tort cases, such as asbestos claims, are similar to multiple-sufficient-cause cases in that it is difficult, if not impossible, for a jury to trace a plaintiff's illness to one causal agent, one asbestos producer, even while it seems likely that defendants, asbestos producers, collectively are responsible.

In a very few jurisdictions, this problem has led to a controversial approach to liability based strictly on a defendant's share of the product market.  Massachusetts has not gone that far, but has loosened the causation requirement, essentially allowing substantiality to overwhelm scientific causation.  That approach becomes problematic, now, in light of the court's abandonment of substantiality.

Because the but-for test "seem[s] ill-suited" for toxic-tort cases, the majority opined in a footnote:

It is simply not clear whether the concerns we have with the substantial contributing factor test justify eliminating it in these cases.  Given the volume of these cases, their great importance, and the idiosyncrasies that make them unique with regard to factual causation, it would be unwise to apply our holding to these cases as well without first having the benefit of full briefing and argument.  Our hesitance, however, should not be taken as a continuing endorsement of the substantial factor approach in toxic tort cases given the concerns we have expressed today.

Pot, kettle, the concurrence wrote.  "For all its purported confusion, the [substantiality] standard continues to work well in toxic tort cases—except for the fact that the court also invites in a footnote overturning what it otherwise praises."

In fact, the problem is bigger than toxic torts, and bigger than a law professor's woes.  The problem of this decision's scope extends to all of tort law.

Remember, a plaintiff in civil litigation must prove causation to recover.  That's not a rule of only medical malpractice, nor a rule of only negligence.  It's a rule of all torts.  All torts require causation.  The elements of conventional negligence, duty, breach, causation, and injury, are the elements of all torts, stripped of factual context, unexcepted by special circumstances: the fundamental particle components of a compensable civil wrong.  

Photo by Phil Roeder (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Thus, again in a footnote, the concurrence hinted at a parade of horribles: "[A]dopting a new approach to cause-in-fact issues in torts will encourage litigants to press for its application in other areas of the law beyond negligence, such as commercial disparagement, defamation, and false representation."  I earlier mentioned an arsonist; basic intentional torts require causation, too.  The problem of causation is so not confined to negligence that the concept of "foreseeability" is used loosely to flesh out legal causation and, simultaneously and alternatively, to locate and describe the outer bounds of the civil liability system in total.

So, tort lawyers, on your marks....

The case is Doull v. Foster, No. SJC-12921 (Feb. 26, 2020).  Justice Dalila Wendlandt and Justice Serge Georges, Jr., were sworn into the court in December 2020 and did not participate in the decision.