U.S. Soccer, FIFA lose antitrust appeal; defense shows short-sighted strategy to develop soccer in America

Cristiano Ronaldo plays for Real Madrid against Barcelona in 2011.
Jan S0L0 via Flickr CC BY-SA 2.0

U.S. Soccer and the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) will have to defend an antitrust action in federal court for refusing to permit a Spanish La Liga match on U.S. soil, the Second Circuit ruled in March. 

In 2017, world famous football (soccer) clubs Real Madrid and Barcelona faced off in an exhibition game in Miami. The match was fabulously lucrative for the commercial interests behind it, including organizer Relevant Sports, LLC, based in New York.

World sport likes the United States, because our infrastructure practically prints money. Americans, especially the top echelons of the wealthy, have been habitualized by our unregulated and often subsidized sport-and-entertainment monopolists to pay more than people elsewhere in the world to see live events, both directly for seats and indirectly in media rights.

Incidentally, that's the principal reason that bringing the FIFA (men's) World Cup back to North America in 2026 was not really a hard sell, notwithstanding modest public enthusiasm and the theater of the global bidding process. The 2026 co-hosts, the United States, Canada, and Mexico, likely did not even have to pay the half-billion dollars that Qatar apparently spent, mostly to FIFA executive committee members, in, uh, let's say, "incentives," in siting the 2022 World Cup (about my World-Cup-2022-contemporaneous lecture; Qatar on this blog): check out the investigative exclusive by Armin Rosen for Tablet (link from inset), published late last month, using U.S. court records in collateral matters.

Understandably, then, Relevant Sports wanted to maintain the momentum of the 2017 exhibition match. The company proposed that the Spanish La Liga subsequently might site a regular-season, full-stakes match in the United States. 

However, FIFA rules say that a match cannot be held in a country foreign to both sides without the approval of the football federation in the host country. U.S. Soccer said no.

Relevant sued, alleging that the rule improperly protects domestic football from being overshadowed, and therefore diminished in interest and income, by high-profile competitors. U.S. Soccer and FIFA defend the system on the merits under antitrust law, and, saliently in this intermediate disposition, argued that the FIFA "rule" is not really a rule, because FIFA doesn't make the decision for U.S. Soccer or La Liga. They're free to make their own decisions, notwithstanding potential adverse consequences, such as exclusion from international competition for players, teams, or federations that don't play ball.

The instant Second Circuit decision is limited. The court remanded the antitrust claim to proceed, recognizing that FIFA's rule is rule enough to represent the kind of concerted action in violation of antitrust law that Relevant alleges.

Earlier this week, I wrote about Cory Doctorow's enthusiasm, which I share, for the federal government's antitrust agenda—including the Justice Department investigation of Google. (I canceled my Google Nest Aware subscription upon the 25% rate hike. Google's not the only game in town. Yet.) U.S. Soccer's loss in the Second Circuit represents a judicial step in the same right direction.

I'm not an antitrust expert. But to my relatively lay eyes, the fact that the federal district court dismissed the case in 2021 on the faint theory that U.S. Soccer was not formally bound by FIFA's command demonstrates how appallingly far U.S. antitrust law has strayed from basic fair-market principles. Or maybe the court just didn't understand the governance system in world sport and its facility for subverting the laws of nations.

USWNT celebrates in times happier than this year's World Cup.
rachael.c.king via Flickr CC BY 2.0

The U.S. Soccer position in the litigation to me demonstrates furthermore a fundamental misunderstanding of what it will take to make football successful in America. American soccer advocates often wonder aloud why the sport seems to stall again and again, even after the men's World Cup in the United States in 1994 and the astonishing run of the U.S. Women's team in an unprecedented four World Cup titles.

To be sure, there are many, many reasons for the frustrating cycle of revving and stalling. But equally surely, one of those many reasons is the short-term greed of commercial actors that works a detriment to long-term development. 

I've written previously about this problem in the context of media rights. When NBC acquired the rights to English Premier League football, the broadcaster divvied up matches among its many media properties based on the popular appeal of each. NBC's strategy was to leverage interest in the league to sell separate subscriptions to multiple services: NBC, NBC Sports, (at one time, "NBC Gold,") Peacock, USA, Telemundo, Universo.

The network either didn't consider or doesn't care what that model looks like from the customer's perspective. Football in a place such as its home U.K. (at least before U.K. media companies such as Sky started merging with U.S. media giants and took sport away from the publicly minded BBC; that's another story) maintains a multi-generational foothold because supporters follow their teams.  

Divvying up the matches makes it impossible in the United States for a viewer to follow a team. Each week, one gets whatever match a selected service happens to carry, based on its level of market appeal.  If you subscribe to a middle-tier service and your team starts to lose, you might get more matches. If your team starts winning, and you start becoming more engaged, you find yourself suddenly deprived of matches.

That market behavior doesn't build a fan base. For American football or basketball, maybe there are enough viewers who will watch any game because they love the sport. But Americans don't yet love soccer that much. Sport-market development requires fostering two interrelated conditions at the same time: public enthusiasm for the sport, and public enthusiasm for a team. Neither can thrive without the other.

U.S. Soccer's refusal to permit La Liga to play a match on U.S. soil also is self-defeating, if for the converse strategic blindness. Both media rights usurpers and U.S. Soccer, focused on short-term profits, are dampening American enthusiasm by impeding U.S. viewers' access to the highest level of play in the world, in the Premier League and La Liga. While NBC's strategy deprives Americans of the opportunity to root for a team, the U.S. Soccer strategy deprives Americans of the opportunity to root for the sport.

Again, neither can thrive without the other.  U.S. Soccer is trying to protect Major League Soccer and the federation's underage and lower divisions. The federation reasons coldly that someone who buys a $500 La Liga ticket will skip five or ten $48 Tampa Bay Mutiny matches.

They're wrong. One of my U.S.-based family is a card-carrying member of the Toon Army, a dedicated supporter of Newcastle (U.K.) United FC. He traveled domestically to see Newcastle play an exhibition match in the United States this summer. Being a Newcastle supporter has made him a more, not less, enthusiastic supporter of his nearby D.C. United and the U.S. men's and women's national teams. With access to the matches of each, live and on TV, he's more likely to spend money on all of them.

Antitrust law is not a device to make commercial actors prioritize long-term interests over short. To the contrary, if NBC and U.S. Soccer put themselves out of business, that's a healthy outcome for the free market. But if antitrust inadvertently compels U.S. Soccer to up its game and compete for eyeballs by actually developing the sport, rather than constraining consumer choice, then that's an outcome I can get behind.

The case is Relevant Sports, LLC v. U.S. Soccer Federation, Inc. (2d Cir. Mar. 7, 2023). U.S. Circuit Judge Raymond J. Lohier, Jr.., wrote the opinion of the unanimous panel that also comprised Chief Judge Livingston and Judge Lynch. In 2017's "El Clásico Miami," Barcelona bettered Real Madrid 3-2.

Big Ag plays Goliath in film about GMO-seed litigation

A worthwhile movie you might have missed during the pandemic is Percy vs. Goliath (2020), starring Christopher Walken and Zach Braff, involving Canadian lawsuits over GMO seed contamination.

I caught up with the film last weekend. As the title suggests, it's a David vs. Goliath story about a workaday Canadian farmer, Percy Schmeiser (Walken) sued by agriculture giant Monsanto when Roundup-resistant canola strains turned up in the farmer's fields in Saskatchewan. Schmeiser countersued for libel and trespass.

The real-life case is Monsanto Canada Inc. v. Schmeiser (Can. 2004). The real-life Percy died in 2020 soon after the film was completed. There have been several documentaries about the case, besides this fictionalization.

Spoilers ahead.

Something I liked and had not expected in the film is the depiction of Percy's visit to India. The filmmakers do a good job conveying the fact that GMO seed drift and patent exclusivity is a worldwide problem. The film doesn't directly tackle the unknown risks of GMOs, both to human health and in global monoculture, but they're implicit in Percy's reasons for resisting GMO tech.

The film also doesn't tackle the separate problem of Roundup toxicity, which fueled mass tort litigation in the United States only later, in the 2010s. But the repeated mention of the product can't help but bring the issue to mind with the benefit of hindsight. (Certainly it brings the issue to my mind, remembering my summer work as a landscape laborer, Roundup streaming down my arms. Though that's nothing compared with soaked workers I saw on Central American fruit plantations in the 1990s.) Bayer acquired Monsanto in 2018 and agreed to settlements over Roundup in 2020. 

Percy mostly won in the end, in that Monsanto could not prove deliberate appropriation. But the court did find patent infringement and required Percy to surrender his seeds to Monsanto.

In the United States, the Supreme Court in 2013 ruled in favor of Monsanto in a seed case with different facts, Bowman v. Monsanto Co. An Indiana farmer had replanted seeds that Monsanto clients had sold to a grain elevator in violation of Monsanto's license, which prohibited downstream reuse. The later buyer infringed the patent, the court concluded.

In a U.S. case closer to Schmeiser but with a different procedural history, a broad farming coalition sought to nullify Monsanto patents to head off infringement claims they saw as an inevitable result of genetic drift. The court rejected the suit in Organic Seed Growers and Trade Association v. Monsanto Co. (Fed. Cir. 2013) for lack of controversy. Monsanto thereafter announced that it would not pursue infringement claims against non-client farmers for Roundup-resistant strains as long as they didn't use Roundup.

Informative for comparative law class, the film, Percy, includes a short courtroom scene toward the end in which Percy's solo lawyer Jackson Weaver (Braff) argues against the Big Ag sharks in the Canadian high court. Christina Ricci turned in an enjoyable supporting performance as environmental activist lawyer Rebecca Salcau. I recall that Ricci delightfully played scrappy attorney Liza Bump in the final season of Ally McBeal.

Weaver's and Salcau's resource limitations in facing off against Big Ag brought to mind A Civil Action (1998), and Percy overall is reminiscent of Dark Waters (2019) (on this blog). Percy's quiet tribulation is not the stuff of blockbusters, but it's surely worth the watch for anyone interested in the broad range of issues it raises in environmentalism, agriculture, food supply, civil litigation, product liability, intellectual property, and corporatocracy.

Though it was not a policy point in the film, I found compelling attorney Weaver's warning to Percy that losing the case would mean not only compensation on the merits to Monsanto, but liability to Monsanto for hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees for the very Big Ag attorneys who rendered the litigation playing field so unlevel as might, circularly, precipitate the loss.

Such is the rule for attorney fees in Canada and most of the world, and, alarmingly to me, more and more, by statute, in the United States. Civil rights advocates and the plaintiff bar herald attorney-fee shifting as vital to facilitate access to the courts for injured persons. But when the burn works both ways and a corporate Goliath prevails, the result should give us pause before wholeheartedly chucking out the pay-your-own-way rule of American common law. Writ small, this precisely is one of my objections to anti-SLAPP laws that place genuinely victimized individual plaintiffs at risk of having to pay outrageous fee awards to compensate corporate mass media defense attorneys.

I watched Percy vs. Goliath on the Roku Channel with ads. The film is available for less than $4 on many streaming platforms.

'Fisk' is the civil-practice lawyer you've been looking for

If you're looking to fill that Netflix queue as the writers' strike drags on, check out the Australian sitcom, Fisk.

When I put together a church message on ethics recently, I was looking to fill out a line about civil practice attorneys and coming up short. I wanted to make the point that when someone says "personal injury lawyer," we are quick to think of iconic unethical characters, and it's harder to conjure up the ethical ones. I didn't at first realize how much harder.

I ran the thought experiment on myself first. Even for me, a torts prof, it's hard, first, to filter out criminal lawyers. When I work the problem chronologically, the first character lawyer I remember adoring in my youth is Star Trek's Samuel T. Cogley (Elisha Cook), who defended Captain Kirk in a court-martial: criminal. The first civil selection that comes to mind is Boston Legal's Alan Shore (James Spader). But even he first appeared on The Practice, a criminal-law show.

Solidly on the civil side, unethical characters do come to mind quickly. For the message, I settled on My Cousin Vinny's Vinny Gambini (Joe Pesci), who was a civil-practice attorney out of his depth in a criminal-law storyline, and, to cross generations, Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul's Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk). 

Then the ethical characters....  There are plenty in criminal, both prosecution and defense. Jack McCoy (Sam Waterston) is most often cited as admired when I survey 1L students. Ben Matlock (Andy Griffith) and Atticus Finch are classics.

Civil? Alas, so few people remember Alan Shore. I briefly considered Victor Sifuentes (Jimmy Smits). But on close inspection, nobody on L.A. Law holds up well as memorable and consistently ethically. There was Ally McBeal (Calista Flockhart), but she had a lot of balls (and dancing babies) in the air besides law practice. I interrogated the staff of The West Wing; none of the leads was a lawyer. I'm fond of Madam Secretary's Mike B. (Kevin Rahm), but he was as often as not a devil's advocate to test Elizabeth McCord's righteousness. Erin Brockvich? Real-life hero, but, to be technical, paralegal and consultant, not lawyer. Maybe Ralph Nader, though then it gets political.

John Calvin (1509-1564)
Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

For the church message, I settled on the real-life John Calvin, the 16th-century French theologian. He trained as a lawyer before he got caught up in the Reformation. It's a reach, I know.  But the bench is not deep, and Calvin was a stalwart for his faith.

So I come back around to Fisk, the title character of which is lawyer Helen Tudor-Fisk, created and played by comedian Kitty Flanagan. Tudor-Fisk was a high-powered corporate lawyer in Sydney until a bitter divorce and a workplace meltdown prompted her to upend her career and move to Melbourne. There she struggled to find a bed and a job, landing as a temporary fill-in for a suspended trusts-and-estates lawyer at a scrappy two-partner shop.

Fisk is not about law or legal ethics. The show, and its comedy, derive from Flanagan's delightfully dry-witted character as she navigates the ups and downs of her shattered life. The law practice is setting and background. But then—I don't think it's a big spoiler to say—her quiet diligence in her new job suddenly and gratifyingly comes to the fore in the finale of the six-episode season 1.

When I finished Fisk s1 last week, my own biases were laid bare. I had tried to think of what an ethical civil-practice attorney looks like. I pictured a renowned, tough-as-nails civil litigator, a silver-haired Matlock analog, dazzling jurors in the courtroom in "ripped from the headlines" cases.

Forget all that. Helen is the real deal.

I fell for Fisk.

Season 1 of Fisk is streaming now on Netflix. Season 2 ran on Australian Broadcasting last year; to my knowledge, it has not yet been licensed to stream in America.

UPDATE Oct. 22, 2023: Fisk s2 is now available to purchase in America from services including Amazon Prime.

Gladstone, Doctorow game out tech reg quagmire

Cory Doctorow
Houari B. via Flickr CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

On the Media's Brooke Gladstone talked to Cory Doctorow, author, internet activist, etc., on September 1 about, well, everything, and it's a breathtaking hour of must-listen radio.

The conversation wrapped up every issue I care about in technology and society today into a neat and intelligible bundle of the utter mess that it is: intellectual property, antitrust, privacy and data protection, politics and corruption, and the corporatocracy that's incinerating democracy. Doctorow is more optimistic than I that human civilization can yet be saved, so the program is not even a downer in the end.

I feel like I'm someone who knows a fair bit about this stuff, so I was humbled by how much I learned. I want to spill it all here, but I ought not be a spoiler. I'll share just a tidbit.

You know that thing when videos go viral and some average joe or jane inspires another generation of youth to plot a career as a social media sensation?

Yeah, not a thing.  At least not always an organic thing. Companies such as TikTok "twiddle" or "heat up"—terms of art—selected content to make it "viral," even while users think that they collectively are driving virality by demand.

Why? It's a "giant teddy bear" strategy, Doctorow explained. The carney at the fair lets an early player on one of those unwinnable-by-design games "win" the giant teddy bear, knowing that that customer will carry it around all night, inadvertently advertising the game to everyone else. The viral video maker thinks that a million people just loved that nutty dance and doesn't even realize that she or he is a tool, carrying the giant teddy bear around.

How do the companies get away with telling us one thing and doing something else? Because they change the rules whenever they like, Doctorow said. There are no rules about how they can change the rules.

Huzaifa abedeen via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0

And don't even get me started on the plethora of legal mechanisms that protect this monstrous Big Tech monopolization. Dare to start asking questions, and you'll find yourself on the business end of demand letters citing the DMCA, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, and patent and trademark law, just to get the ball rolling.

Yes, I realize that I am writing on a Google platform right now. What's a writer to do? I confess, I made a conscious decision at one point simply to surrender to Google. I have a Nest doorbell, a Pixel phone, and a Google Drive. But, you see, this is what Doctorow is talking about. It's next to impossible to get along in the virtual world today without surrendering.  Try buying diapers from Diapers.com instead of Amazon.

Doctorow is a big fan of Lina Khan and the example she's setting with the Federal Trade Commission's sudden scrutiny of the tech sector. Unfortunately, Doctorow said, it's easier to stop monopoly from happening than to dismantle it after it's taken hold. If you're my age, you'll remember how long AT&T reigned supreme before the feds came a-knockin'. Better late than never. I'll be interested to see if Khan-ology persists, or corporate power in Washington is now too big to break.

The podcast is How Big Tech Went to Sh*t, from WNYC's On the Media (Sept. 1, 2023).

Ark. Gov swings again at state FOIA

Arkansas Governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders has proposed a bill to undercut the highly regarded transparency regime of that state's Freedom of Information Act.

I was at the Arkansas Capitol when a veritable mob of citizen opposition stopped an anti-transparency reform bill in the spring. Try, try again must be the Governor's m.o.

My friend and colleague Professor Robert Steinbuch testified effectively against the spring reform bill. Here he is telling Conduit News Arkansas why the newest incarnation is no good either.

UPDATE, Sept. 16. My understanding is that the bill was gutted this week. A substantially narrowed enacted version applies only to secret information about the governor's security detail. The matter was discussed on Arkansas Week.

Ethics problems in law, education inform message on Christian ethics in biblical story of widow's offering

Last Sunday, it was my privilege to deliver a message on "Christian ethics," arising from Mark 12:41-44, at my local church in Barrington, R.I.

The service is posted on the church website. The message begins at about 31 minutes and runs about 24 minutes in duration.

I used two problems in conventional ethics as jumping off points: one, from legal ethics, a lawyer's unintentional acquisition of privileged records produced mistakenly in discovery; and two, from higher education, a student's unintended acquisition of an unfair academic advantage.

I used the term "doing ethics," which I borrow from, though it is not unique to, the work of Bob Steele (no relation), Jay Black, and Ralph Barney, with a powerful assist by Lou Hodges, in journalism ethics in the 1990s. I was privileged to have a front-row seat when they worked out the revised code of ethics for the Society of Professional Journalists at that time, especially the game-changing "Minimize Harm" principle.

In crafting the church message, I am indebted especially to mentors Eric D'Agostino and Scotty Neasbitt, who helped me navigate the research; and to my church leadership, including Dan Harrington, who writes thought provokingly for the ProJo; and, always, to my wife, an unflinching editor.

I note that, as always, this blog is personal and not affiliated with nor controlled by my employer. Sometimes content on this blog serves both to inform the public and to educate my students about the law. This posting, however, concerns religious belief and is exclusively personal in nature. No public resources nor on-the-job time was used in the work of the above-described message, nor in the production of this blog post. At the same time, of course, readers of any and every religious tradition and belief system are welcome on this page and at The Savory Tort, just as all students are welcome and encouraged in my classroom.

Unforeseeability precludes lessor liability for saloon shooting, but court fails to mention 'scope of liability'

Jernej Furman CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

A property owner could not be held liable for the fatal shooting of a musician at a lessee nightclub, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court held in August.

The court applied conventional principles of foreseeability, but made no mention of recently adopted "scope of liability" analysis.

In the tragic conclusion of a personal feud, 23-year-old musician Drake Scott was shot multiple times and killed at the City Limits Saloon in Boston in February 2016. Gregory Wright was found guilty of first-degree murder in the incident in 2019 and, at age 39, sentenced to life without possibility of parole. (E.g., CBS News.)

In subsequent civil litigation, Scott's mother sued UTP Realty, LLC, alleging negligent failure to prevent the shooting with better security or lighting. UTP had acquired the property, and with it the saloon's lease, in November 2015. The plaintiff said that past incidents of violence at the saloon should have put UTP on notice of the risk. UTP's principal denied any actual knowledge of the history.

Massachusetts does not recognize the common law invitee-licensee distinction in premises liability, rather observing a unitary standard of reasonableness—though that probably would not have mattered here. The older common law framework might have been less forgiving of UTP, as property owners owe a duty of reasonable investigation to discover risks. Still, the duty is merely one of reasonableness; it does not follow necessarily that even a diligent UTP investigation would have discovered the risk that resulted in Scott's murder.

More importantly, the court determined that Scott's murder was not reasonably foreseeable. Accordingly, UTP simply owed no duty to Scott, and by extension in wrongful death, his mother.

"The word 'foreseeable' has been used to define both the limits of a duty of care and the limits of proximate cause," the court quoted its own precedent citing legal treatises. "As a practical matter, in deciding the foreseeability question, it seems not important whether one defines a duty as limited to guarding against reasonably foreseeable risks of harm or whether one defines the necessary causal connection between a breach of duty and some harm as one in which the harm was a reasonably foreseeable consequence of the breach of duty."

UTP's property ownership was brief and at arm's length; Wright's act was sudden and brutal. In causal terms, an intervening cause in the person of an intentional criminal actor, especially in case of a violent offense, more often than not becomes a superseding cause, absolving an earlier negligent actor, such as a property owner, of legal responsibility. Upon that rule, the conclusion here is noteworthy, but not surprising. The same goes for the court's recognition that duty and legal causation offer alternative expressions of reasonable foreseeability.

The court's reasoning surprising, however, in the context of the court's recognition, amid what appeared to be a heated disagreement, of the Third Restatement approach to duty and causation in 2021, in Doull v. Foster, which I wrote about at the time.  Acknowledging the overlap between duty and legal causation, the Third Restatement sought to relocate policy-driven analysis to a more straightforward new element, "scope of liability."

Moreover, the Third Restatement eschewed the superseding causation approach as a way of solving the problem of multiple actors. Once the scope-of-liability hurdle is overcome, the Third Restatement favored instead the recognition of a question of fact as to the apportionment of liability between multiple culpable actors, even if one was merely negligent and the other committed an intentional crime.

Neither scope of liability nor apportionment, nor the Third Restatement nor Doull, for that matter, earned a mention in the instant case: a sound conclusion, in my opinion, but evidence in support of my skepticism of Doull's eagerness to embrace reform,

On the one hand, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. On the other hand, litigators and trial judges fairly might wonder when to Doull and when not.

The case is Hill-Junious v. UTP Realty, LLC, No. SJC-13380 (Mass. Aug. 16, 2023). Justice Serge Georges, Jr., wrote the unanimous court opinion. Justice Georges had just been appointed in December 2020 and did not participate in Doull.

Denying public access to crash data, did state agency prioritize fear of litigation over public safety?

Map of bicycle and pedestrian accidents
in Providence, R.I., 2009-17, from
Providence Great Streets Master Plan (2020)

Rhode Island authorities appear to have denied public access to road safety data for no reason better than protecting the state from litigation.

For The Providence Journal, Amy Russo reported in June (subscription) on a dispute between the nonprofit advocacy group Providence Streets Coalition (PSC) and the Rhode Island Department of Transportation (RIDOT). According to the story, RIDOT denied a PSC request under state public records law for access to crash data.

To justify the denial, RIDOT pointed to federal law and state court precedent allowing denial of a public record request when a litigant seeks to support a negligence claim against the government, Russo reported. But there is no litigation related to the PSC request.

The relevant rule seems to be of the kind known to some freedom of information acts (FOIAs) that seeks to keep the FOIA process apart from discovery in litigation. Such provisions are not necessarily hostile to public access, but ensure that FOIAs don't undermine civil procedure. Usually a litigant in discovery has better access to relevant government-defendant records than a public-record requester has because FOIA exemptions from access don't apply. Sensitive information that might be FOIA-exempt can be subject to a protective order under the rules of civil procedure, but still must be disclosed.

It rather turns the rule on its head, then, for RIDOT to resist disclosure when there is no alternative track in discovery for the requester to demand access. If that's indeed what happened, then RIDOT is almost certainly overreaching. The state has ample protection from lawsuits in sovereign immunity. Typically, states cannot be sued merely for failure to act affirmatively to ensure public safety, nor for exercising discretion to prioritize public safety relative to finite resources.

Rather, a litigant must show that officials were bound to follow a specific legal standard and negligently failed to do so. If that's what's going on, then lawsuits are precisely the appropriate mechanism for injured persons to see their interests vindicated and the state held accountable.

Whatever RIDOT's motive, withholding vital safety data from the public is plainly at cross-purposes with public interest. Russo's story observed that other states, "including Texas, Colorado, Florida, California, and Massachusetts," make crash data public. She interviewed Eric Jackson, head of the Connecticut Transportation Institute and Transportation Safety Research Center at the University of Connecticut, which partnered with the Connecticut Department of Transportation to build a public crash database in 2010.

Connecticut did worry that "attorneys and ambulance chasers are going to come after us and basically say you have the data that's showing you where crashes are occurring," Jackson said. But "[s]o far, ... that hasn't come to fruition."

And Jackson pointed out what should be obvious: If the problem is road safety, then secreting data is hardly the answer.

The PSC-RIDOT matter won't come to court, Russo wrote, because PSC obtained the data it wanted from the City of Providence.

The story is Amy Russo, A Providence Organization Wanted Crash Data To Make Streets Safer. RIDOT Said It's Private, Providence J. (June 26, 2023) (subscription).

Anti-SLAPP protects doctor for reporting patient-doctor's opioid use to physician treatment authority

Cindy Shebley CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

A doctor who prescribed opioids for a fellow doctor and ultimately reported the patient-doctor for possible impairment by addiction was protected by anti-SLAPP law when the patient-doctor sued, the Massachusetts Appeals Court held in June.

The two doctors' relationships started when the defendant, a primary care physician, prescribed the plaintiff, an ophthalmologist, Percocet, which contains oxycodone, to manage migraines. In time, the defendant became concerned about the plaintiff's ongoing use of opioids. After unsatisfactory back-and-forth with the plaintiff, the defendant reported his concerns to Physician Health Services (PHS), a nonprofit corporation created by the Massachusetts Medical Society, which in turn is a creation of the legislature. The plaintiff ultimately accepted addiction counseling upon PHS recommendation.

The plaintiff sued the defendant for negligence, tortious interference, civil rights violation, and invasion of privacy. The defendant invoked the Massachusetts anti-SLAPP law, and the court dismissed. The Appeals Court affirmed.

I'm on record as an anti-SLAPP skeptic, while acknowledging that anti-SLAPP laws sometimes facilitate a sound outcome. To my satisfaction, the Massachusetts law is narrow in some key regards, including the requirement that a defendant's conduct must be substantially related to a petitioning to governmental officials. In June 2021, I wrote about the failure of an anti-SLAPP defense when the Appeals Court opined that defendants' alleged extortive expression was not sufficiently closely related to the zoning disposition with which the defendant was alleged to have sought to interfere.

In the instant case, the Appeals Court had little trouble determining that the defendant's reports to PHS were substantially related to government petitioning. Physician peer reporting is required by law upon reasonable belief in a violation of regulation. And it was understood, the court reasoned, that reporting to PHS, which specializes in treatment for drug and alcohol impairment, was an intermediate step that would result in reporting to the state licensing authority if the matter could not be resolved.

"It follows, therefore, that the defendant's communication to PHS regarding his concern about the plaintiff is protected," the court wrote, "unless the plaintiff can show either that the defendant failed to act in good faith or that he had no reasonable belief that the communication furthered the purpose of PHS."

The case is Berk v. Kronlund, No. 22-P-4 (Mass. App. Ct. June 14, 2023) (FindLaw). Justice Kenneth V. Desmond Jr. wrote the opinion of the unanimous panel that also comprised Justices Wolohojian and Blake.

Court rejects 'super tort' theory in suit alleging animal cruelty, though concurrence mentions rights of nature

Kodiak bear at Olympic Game Farm, a private zoo in Washington.
Analise Zocher via Flickr CC BY 2.0

The Animal Legal Defense Fund tried but failed in August to convince the Washington Supreme Court to treat animal cruelty as an actionable "super tort."

The nonprofit Animal Legal Defense Fund (ALDF) sued a private zoo in Washington, alleging animal cruelty under state public nuisance law. In mid-August, the Washington Supreme Court rejected the theory as beyond the scope of the statute.

It is a clever theory. Like environmentalists, animal protection organizations face high hurdles using tort law to advance their work. Animal cruelty laws often are not vigorously enforced by public authorities and provide scant mechanisms for private enforcement. Nonprofits usually have no standing to sue without a statutory authorization.

State and local governments lately have been pushing nuisance law as a potential accountability mechanism for all kinds of social ills. Nuisance is a leading theory in lawsuits against Big Oil for the impact of climate change. And some governments found success with nuisance to leverage settlements with opioid sellers.

But this "super tort," as termed by the defense bar and tort reformers, is problematic for policy reasons. Overusing the tort system to regulate business exceeds the bounds of corrective justice, threatening the free market and the organic social contract. The courts are not equipped to make policy, and it's not their function in the constitutional design of separated powers. Converting, or perverting, social problems into civil litigation thus bypasses the political branches of government, enervating democratic accountability and threatening unintended consequences.

In 2020, I wrote about this issue in the context of the Rhode Island suit (my home state) against Big Oil. I spoke about the problem to a Jagiellonian University audience via Zoom earlier that same year.

Some states, such as Washington, allow the enforcement of public nuisance law with "private attorney general," or "citizen-suit," provisions. The potential for public authorities to expand the scope of public nuisance is thus multiplied by willing and creative advocacy organizations.

ALDF theorized that animal cruelty, which the nonprofit alleged in suing the private zoo in Washington, constituted a public nuisance. That's a reach, but not irrational.

Pollution, or environmental damage, is the classic example of a public nuisance.  A die-off of fish in a public waterway might adversely affect the interests of waterside property owners, but there is no incursion on any one property such as creates a privately enforceable nuisance. Public authorities are obliged to respond to the problem as a matter of policymaking—thus, environmental protection law and regulation. Add citizen suits to the public nuisance mix, and environmentalists acquire enforcement power.

ALDF's wish to enforce animal cruelty law is a short leap through analogy in natural resource protection. Moreover, nuisance law in some states has a "per se" concept, like negligence law, by which the standard of right and wrong can be informed by statute. So ALDF bolstered its public nuisance claim by pointing to anti-cruelty statutes and wildlife conservation laws as public policy properly pronounced by the legislature.

ALDF further analogized to a peculiar but exigent strain of public nuisance law tied to morality.  In my 2020 talk, I made scant reference to this theory, in the interest of succinctness, but probably I should have given it a more respectful nod.

Historically, public nuisance law was used to shut down the likes of brothels and saloons.  Sometimes red-light businesses externalize costs to surrounding property owners that are real but difficult to quantify—consider the long-running feud between a Chicago-area strip club and next-door nuns, by which the convent alleged injury by "secondary effects" (as known in First Amendment law), such as crime and litter.  But many times, too, public nuisance laws have been invoked on the mere basis of moral objection.

In that sense, runaway public nuisance is a problem of the law's own creation.  Common law courts opened the door to nuisance in the moral abstract, untethering the concept from physical property.  ALDF just stepped through the door.  Society's intolerance of animal cruelty is a moral statement no less than condemnation of human trafficking.  As an animal advocate myself—full disclosure, I'm a founding faculty adviser of the student ALDF chapter and a past ALDF supporter—I find this theory appealing.

To be objective, though, the difficulty arises in that not everyone, least of all the legal system, embraces ALDF and my view of unequivocal morality in the area of animal cruelty.  The law permits even purely recreational hunts to kill exotic animals.  For all her worthy work, even Temple Grandin has not succeeded in making humane methods universal in food production.  Despite advancements in the recognition of human grief as a compensable loss in tort claims for injury to pets, the law continues to regard animals, for the most part, as mere chattel.

Such was the tone of the Washington Supreme Court's response to the ALDF claim.  ALDF could not articulate a conventional nuisance theory, in the way of interference with peace and enjoyment of land, and the court refused to engage with ALDF's theory as a matter of policy indicated by the animal cruelty or wildlife conservation laws.

"While ALDF cites to some cases that identify wildlife as a public resource," the court opined, "it cites no cases or statutes indicating that the public has a right to use that resource as it sees fit or has any individual, personal property rights in wildlife."

ALDF pointed to a seeming precedent to no avail. ALDF prevailed in a claim against a Wisconsin private zoo in federal court last year, winning a permanent injunction on a citizen-suit nuisance theory. However, the defendant had given up the fight partway through and allowed a default judgment to be entered. The Washington Supreme Court observed that the federal trial court in the case made no ultimate finding of fact that the private zoo was a nuisance.

In concurrence, Chief Justice Steven C. González left the door open, just a crack, and made a shout out, remarkably, to the theory of the rights of nature (RoN), if not by name.  Though agreeing with the holding, the chief opined (selective citations omitted; links added):

[T]he world has changed much since the days when King Henry II, Kukulkan, and the Great Khan were young. Now, the private use of land has profound potential to harm our ecosystem and the various species we share it with. It may well be time to heed Justice Douglas's call to consider whether those places and things threatened with environmental catastrophe should have standing in court to sue for their own injuries. See Sierra Club v. Morton ... (U.S. 1972) (Douglas, J., dissenting) (citing Christopher D. Stone, Should Trees Have Standing?—Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects, 45 S. Cal. L. Rev. 450 (1972)). Thus, I am wary of fully endorsing the majority’s sweeping conclusion that "[w]here the statutory framework and case law do not support a claim, none exists."

I'm all for ALDF's objectives, just like I'm gravely concerned about the impact of the opioid crisis. And I value the chief's assessment of common law evolution, an important capacity of American tort law that often is marginalized or forgotten in contemporary practice.  I have hastened to recognize the potential of common law evolution to reflect, not make, social policy in areas such as privacy and data protection.

But I worry, too, about misuse of the courts to make social policy; what the public will to do so tells us about possibly catastrophic dysfunction in the political branches; and what that means for the fabric of our democracy.

The case is Animal Legal Defense Fund v. Olympic Game Farm, Inc., No. 101264-1 (Wash. Aug. 17, 2023) (ALDF commentary).  Associate Chief Justice Charles W. Johnson wrote the opinion of the court.