Catching up on reading since the close of the spring
semester, I just finished Professor Marshall Shapo’s
The
Experimental Society (Transaction Publishers (now Routledge) 2016) (385 pp.) (
publisher,
Amazon,
SSRN abstract,
author interview) (385 pp.).
I highly recommend the book,
which is fit for general audiences, besides lawyers and law students.
The experiment of the book’s title refers loosely to the American
mix of free market and tort litigation, which works out the rules for what is
allowed and not allowed in our society. The
dynamic is most plain in product liability.
A manufacturer brings to market a new and useful product, such as
asbestos. Later it’s learned that the
product poses a grave risk to human health.
In extracting accountability for physical injury, the tort system regulates
the continued use of asbestos.
What this system ill accounts for is its human toll. The tort system is a balancing act. Extreme regulation (vetting?) of everything
new—a drug, a car, or a method of cleaning floors—would make research and
development prohibitively expense and smother innovation. Injury and death would result from drugs
never developed, or safety innovations never deployed. At the other extreme, diminished accountability
would sanction the prioritization of profit over life.
Civil conflict resolution—our litigation system—threads,
marks, and forever revises the boundary between right and wrong. But our dependence on that system presupposes
optimal, if not ideal, efficiency. In
reality, our tort system is rife with inefficiencies.
The starkest of those inefficiencies might be time. I just takes too long to reach a conclusion
in U.S. litigation—months, years, and sometimes decades. While the wheels of justice grind, injured
persons are not made whole, and new victims are claimed. Another inefficiency is “transaction costs,” that
is, the cost of dispute resolution, which is compounded by time. Our drive for just and precise outcomes means
that lawyers, experts, and litigation soak up a disproportionate amount of
resources—if a matter can be litigated at all—re-victimizing the injured plaintiff
and penalizing a defendant that might or might not have done anything wrong.
But inefficiencies get worse still, as the tort system tends
to perpetuate socio-economic inequalities and irrational discriminations. A poor community, less able to accomplish political
organization or campaign contribution, cannot finance tort litigation to combat
the impact of industrial pollution as effectively as a wealthy community
can. Even after wrongdoing is
established in tort litigation, awards turns on loss, meaning that the working
poor and the unemployed have less to recover than the injured doctor or
lawyer. These socio-economic effects
exaggerate systemic prejudices of race and gender. Moreover, bias can be perpetuated in fact-finding
through judge and jury in a case. And
bias finds its way even into law itself, such as in liability standards that
favor the alienation of real property—and therefore those who can afford it.
The Experimental
Society examines the real social impact of our litigation system as hall
monitor. Shapo engages briefly with the familiar
territory of product liability for asbestos and cigarettes. But with that historical foothold, the book
ranges widely to examine contemporary risks, such as bisphenol A (BPA) and
vaping. Shapo moreover expands his
inquiry well beyond straightforward product liability. He engages at length with environmental
contamination, examining fracking, oil spills, and nuclear accidents. He considers threats to the food supply, such
as mad cow disease with its mysterious pathology. Shapo also thinks expansively about
experiment, embracing in his analysis both the deliberate experimentation of
human clinical trials and the inadvertent yet ultimate experiment of climate
change.
This encyclopedia of troubling experiments under way in our
world delineates one axis of Shapo’s inquiry.
Meanwhile he draws a second axis, which traces the anatomy of risk and
rules. About the first half of the book explicates
case studies to the end of broadly defining risk and experimentation. The latter half of the book dives deep into
dispute resolution, considering how this broad range of experimentation in our
society has generated various standards, rules, and remediation systems in workplace
safety, consumer protection, and mass tort litigation. Shapo’s end-game, reached in the final chapters,
considers the interplay of our experimental society with cultural and moral
factors—for example, our values with respect to personal responsibility,
risk-utility economics, and technological determinism.
As the back cover of The
Experimental Society reminds us, Marshall Shapo—the Frederic P. Vose
Professor at Northwestern University Law School, and, disclosure: my lead co-author
on the casebook Tort and Injury Law,
and a treasured mentor—has been writing about injury law for half a century.
Yet however much the product of an elder statesman in tort
law, The Experimental Society is boldly
contemporary. The book is a one-stop
shop for anyone who wants to tour the leading edge of risk, health, and law. The relevant science and technology, business
and economics, and law and policy all are laid out in plain language to engage any
reader interested in the human condition.
The Experimental
Society disappointed me in one respect only: it offers no answer. The reader should be warned that the book
ends with only the urgent question it raises, where the balance should be
struck in our tolerance of risk. This is
not The Secret, with the promise to
invigorate your fortunes; nor Hidden
Figures with its revelatory moral tale; nor the latest blueprint to fix our
democracy. The Experimental Society isn’t selling answers.
Though I was disappointed not to find at the book’s end that
Shapo’s wealth of experience could map out The Better Way, that expectation was
foolhardy on my part. However skilled a
researcher and writer, Shapo is after all a teacher. He recounts in the book a Socratic game he
played with his eight-year-old granddaughter to demonstrate for her, of all
things, Ken Feinberg’s predicament in compensating economic loss after the BP
oil spill. In good American fashion, the
girl favored compensation precisely and fully for everyone who suffered injury. Shapo didn’t tell her that that, ultimately,
would be impossible; he showed her.
And that’s what The
Experimental Society does: it shows us a problem that is inherent in the
human social condition. It turns the
problem over, so we can see it from every angle. Risk, it turns out, is not antagonistic to
life; risk is an indispensable condition of life. Risk yields reward, and reward makes life worth
living. How do we manage that risk to
maximize reward, and what costs are we willing to tolerate in its pursuit? Shapo knows that that’s an ancient problem—older
than Deuteronomy 19:5. So in The Experimental Society, he does the
best a teacher can: to restate an eternal question for a new age.