When courts interpret statutes, should they focus only on
the text? That’s not a crazy idea; when we try to understand what someone else
is telling us, we often focus on the words that person is using. The trouble
with doing this in ordinary life is that often people choose their words
imperfectly, so we routinely fill in many possible blanks and resolve many
possible inconsistencies by looking at the context – who the speaker is, what
the situation is, what body language and facial expressions went along with the
words, and so on.
How do our habits in ordinary conversation carry over to
reading statutes? One possible answer is that with statutes we have nothing
except the words themselves. To speak just of federal statutes, only their words
are voted on by and signed into law by the President. And since there are a lot
of different people responsible for the process of formal enactment (all the
members of Congress, plus the President), we can’t ask the various questions we
would in interpreting conversation, because there are too many “speakers” to try
to attend to. Following this logic, we would disregard what’s called
“legislative history” – the record of who said what about the legislation under
consideration. We would attend only to the text, or in other words we would be
“textualists.” (Attending to the text may be quite a complex business, though;
“textualists” aren’t by any means always “literalists.”)
But attending only to the text ought to strike us as very
odd. If legislators speak to each other about proposed laws, and in the course
of those debates they say “This law would mean X,” it’s strange that later on a
court trying to determine whether the law does mean X would give little or no
weight to the legislators’ statements. It is true that no one voted on those
statements – only the statute itself gets voted on – but if those statements
clarify what the legislators thought they were voting on, it seems self-defeating
for judges seeking insight to disregard the legislators’ understandings. Most
members of the Supreme Court in fact wouldn’t totally disregard them, but
Scalia and Thomas generally would – and many judges today are hesitant to give
much emphasis to what may be found in legislative history.
That wouldn’t be so odd if legislative history were
misleading and unreliable – and so it has often been said to be. But is it? One
way to find out would be to ask people in Congress whether they in fact rely on
it. But until recently, it appears that no one had ever asked. Now there’s an
exception (actually there are two, but the earlier study was evidently a much
less extensive inquiry than the one I’m discussing). In two long articles, Abbe
Gluck of Yale and Lisa Schultz Bressman of Vanderbilt describe their survey of
“137 congressional staffers drawn from both parties, both chambers of Congress,
and spanning multiple committees.” (Abbe R. Gluck & Lisa Schultz Bressman, Statutory Interpretation from the Inside—An
Empirical Study of Congressional Drafting, Delegation, and the Canons: Part I,
65 Stanford L. Rev. 901, 902 (2013); Lisa Schultz Bressman & Abbe R. Gluck,
Statutory Interpretation from the
Inside—An Empirical Study of Congressional drafting, Delegation, and the
Canons: Part II, 66 Stanford L. Rev. 725
(2014).)
Among their findings: “Perhaps most importantly, legislative
history was emphatically viewed by almost all of our respondents—Republicans
and Democrats, majority and minority—as the most
important drafting and interpretive tool apart from text.” (Gluck &
Bressman, Part I, at 965). Overall
their respondents appeared to see legislative history as considerably more
useful than many of the technical rules of interpretation (the “canons” of
interpretation) that courts often use. (Id.
at 966.)
As Bressman & Gluck carefully note, it’s possible to
argue that legislative history should be disregarded even if it is reliable.
But its supposed lack of reliability
has certainly been an important reason why many judges have turned away from
it. So this study not only suggests that perhaps judges should look more
receptively to legislative history in the future, but also raises another question:
why did judges accept the attack on legislative history’s reliability as
readily as they apparently did, without anyone having actually checked whether
that attack was factually well-founded?
One answer, which I think fits broadly with what Gluck and
Bressman believe (they write about our potential “evolution” towards a true
“Age of Statutes,” Bressman & Gluck, Part
II, at 725), is that we are all still learning how to interpret statutes.
We are novices, and we are prone to become infatuated with ideas that on more
sober examination will prove problematic. But our infatuations aren’t randomly
distributed. Nature abhors a vacuum, and we are prone to fill the space of our
ignorance with our predispositions and our preferences – and the battles over
interpretation have surely had strong political overtones. We can’t hope that
politics, or profound disagreements over values, will someday cease to affect
adjudication. But we can hope that if stubborn facts point to the value of a
method of interpretation, then we will find a way to honor those facts, and
look elsewhere for the tools of the ongoing arguments we have about values. We
can, at least, hope!
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