Of course, no such canon of statutory construction exists, except as imagined by law professors (e.g., in this Harvard Journal of Legislation article by Jesse M. Cross, a University of South Carolina law professor and former congressional drafter).
As a long-time legislative drafter who made more mistakes than I care to admit, I would have welcomed such a canon. It might have helped me sleep better. Unfortunately, it’s only a professor’s pipe dream – one no textualist judge will likely ever buy. I suppose one could codify it (e.g., in chapter 645). It might be interesting to see if one could craft bill language to do that, but I won’t try. That is not what Cross proposes, but rather that courts adopt it as an expansion of an old, infrequently used canon, the scrivener’s error doctrine – a canon used to correct obvious transcription or typographical errors.
It’s worth reading the article if you are interested in the legislative process, statutory construction rules, or (my prime reason) details about how members of Congress actually find out what is in the bills they vote on.
The article has three parts:
- Cross’s description of how Congress has come to heavily rely (exclusively, for all intents and purposes) on staff to draft bills and how members rarely read them – even bits and pieces of them (no surprise to someone who has worked in Minnesota legislature – one assumes Congress is a more extreme version of state legislatures);
- Discussion of the Supreme Court’s “fixing” of a drafting error in the ACA in King v. Burwell, rather than bringing down much of the law’s superstructure by slavishly following a simple “plain language” reading of the provision – this is his “hook” for expanding the scrivener’s canon; and
- Cross’s proposal for the new canon and how he tries to justify it as consistent with statutory construction rubrics, including textualism.
I found the most interesting part to be his description of how Congress has done its drafting – from members drafting in the 19th century, relying on executive branch personnel in the mid-20th century, and ultimately on staff by the 1970s – and how members get information about what’s in the bills they vote on. Some interesting tidbits:
- He presents details on the explosion in offices and staff numbers in the 1970s, when CRS, CBO, etc. were created, as well as the doubling and tripling central agency, committee, and member staff.
- Cross conducted (or had others conduct) interviews of 75 or so congressional staffers as to how members (and higher level staffers such a chiefs of staff and similar) learn about bill text, confirming what we all know: members rarely read bills, relying instead on short documents and oral briefings. These documents are typically staff distillations of more detailed summaries prepared by other staff of the actual bill language. The same pattern generally applies in the Minnesota legislature, based on my experience. Very few members (“outliers” is how Cross describes them) read bill language. Most members understand bills only at the conceptual or purpose level.
- Members of Congress often have 2-page (or shorter) limits on the length of these documents. (Some Minnesota legislators have similar impulses – I remember one Speaker who had a strict 1-page rule and my efforts to pare and condense, as well as to narrow margins, decrease font size etc to bend the rule.) Many members of Congress apparently use “vote rec” memos (short written recommendations on how they should vote on the floor) (p. 105). They can be as short as index cards that are handed to the member shortly before floor votes.
- As Cross puts it, members’ understanding of bills is almost always “conceptual not text based” (p. 108).
- Cross makes the point that this limited engagement with bill text is not just because members do not have time or are too busy (making campaign finance fund raising calls?) to read bills. Rather, the nature of federal legislation makes it impossible for generalist members to consider and deliberate over bill text – (1) the world/problems being addressed are too complex, (2) the statutes themselves are too specialized and labyrinth, and (3) agency administration of the programs adds another layer of complexity. The system expects members to be generalists who simply cannot have the specialized expertise necessary to understand the details of what they’re voting on (i.e., to be held responsible for the staff mistakes, apparently), even if they had or could make time to do so.
- Cross reports that the Senate and House bill drafting offices consider that it takes between 2 and 6 years to train drafting staff in subject areas (pp. 113 -114). That’s longer than in the Minnesota legislature, where I would guess the expectation is closer to 1 to 2 years. It may be a little longer in specialized areas.
- His bottom line: By necessity, this has resulted in a legislative bureaucracy to which members have delegated responsibility for drafting and making sure that the text of bills is consistent with members’ purpose in passing legislation. Of course, much of detail of policy development has also been delegated, since making many smaller policy choices requires descending into the details of the problem, the statute, and administrative practices that members have not mastered.
This delegation or “division of labor,” as Cross puts it, is crucial to his theory for expanding the scrivener’s error doctrine. Drafters are now the scribes from days of yore (Scalia’s term, not Cross’s) whose obvious mistakes can be corrected by the courts. Aside from that similarity to mistakes made by scribes, he thinks it is inapt to hold elected members responsible for mistakes made by their agents (staff). In his view, doing so would undercut democratic theory. I am not sure that I agree – Harry Truman’s the “buck stops here” and all that. It’s not clear why a legislature should be different. More on that is below under my reaction.
The second and third part of the article were less interesting to me, so I won’t spend much time describing them. Cross argues that the Court’s resolution of the dispute in King v. Burwell could be used as a template for generalizing the scrivener’s error doctrine into a broader staffer’s error doctrine to correct drafting mistakes (“isolated snippets of statutory text” as he puts it) that are manifestly contrary to the purpose of the legislation. He contends that doing so would be consistent with either of the two schools of statutory interpretation – intentionalism or textualism.
The Burwell hook. To grossly oversimplify, in King v. Burwell the Court was faced with a drafting error in the ACA that would have denied the federal subsidy for those purchasing coverage through the healthcare.gov website (i.e., in states that did not set up their own exchanges), if the Court followed a simplistic reading of the language of the law. (It could have resolved the matter by deferring to the agency interpretation under Chevron principles, but it did not want to do that – a different story.) That reading would have denied the subsidies to residents of many states, undercutting a central feature of the ACC: clearly not what anyone thought they were voting on. Apparently, that was too much for Chief Justice Roberts (but not for Justice Scalia who dissented joined by Thomas and Alito), because it was so clearly contrary to what Congress intended. Thus, he deviated from the “natural reading of the pertinent statutory phrase” as he put it and instead read it (“unnaturally”?) to avoid thwarting Congress’s intent.
Expanding scrivener’s error doctrine. Cross runs with the facts and resolution of Burwell to formulate a doctrine that addresses similar situations by expanding the scrivener’s error doctrine to a broader class of staff drafting errors that are clearly inconsistent with a statute’s purposes. To apply Cross’s canon, a court would go through three steps, to:
- Identify the overarching policy goal of the statute.
- Determine if an “isolated snippet of statutory text” (i.e., the error) would “sabotage those overarching policy goals.”
- Make sure it really is error (not just the court’s misperception of the policy or intention).
He goes on to make good arguments for its adoption by intentionalists and plausible arguments for textualists.
My Reaction
As usual, reading an article like this gets my mind to running off on tangents. The following is a distillation of a few of my off-the-cuff reactions for whatever they may or may not be worth.
Burwell is probably not a good case to use as a foundation for a new statutory construction canon. I’m skeptical of the prospect for Cross’s idea (much as I might like it) being adopted by federal courts. Burwell is a unique case; a “hard” case that a textualist would likely consider made “bad” law because of its extreme circumstances, probably not something to generalize and go back on textualist principles (more on that below). Specifically, I have two observations about the decision:
- If a more ordinary law had been at issue (e.g., a securities regulation or something similar) and the “natural” reading of the language would have benefited business, I doubt Roberts would have hesitated about going with the “natural reading” no matter how inconsistent it was with an overarching and obvious purpose of the law.
- I would guess it was only the highly politicized situation in Burwell that made him unwilling to go there: doing so would have vitiated the signature policy of the Obama administration (and a goal that generations of Democrats identified as one of their highest priorities) and would have created a perception by many that the Court had essentially played a game of gotcha with the president and congress.
Textualists will not be impressed or sympathetic, I think. Reading the article reminded me (as an intentionalist) how much I dislike textualism, especially in its more rigid versions (mainly because I think relying on dictionaries and grammar rules divorced from consideration of purpose and extrinsic evidence enables judges to do more mischief than text anchored by a beacon of legislative purpose). I cynically have thought that the infatuation with textualism (over the last 25 years or so) was driven by largely an anti-government, “conservative” ideology (gum-up government to express it even more cynically). If that is at all accurate, that underpinning will be inhospitable to a canon whose prime attraction is help the wheels of government keeping moving as intended, notwithstanding unintended staff drafting errors. I doubt Cross’s canon would appeal to committed textualists, like Scalia’s textualist acolytes.
I have suspected that there is more of a political and philosophical agenda at stake in rigid textualism. To put a slightly finer point on it, my perception is that the textualist movement is heavily driven by two elements:
- Distrust of liberal or expansive-government supporting judges who, by resorting to effectuating “legislative intent” as evidenced by legislative history or their imaginations of what was intended, recast/rescue/remold statutes to achieve their ends (more government). Requiring strict adherence to the dictionary meanings and rules of grammar (obvious inconsistent purpose be damned) limits that discretion and prevents them from doing mischief. This can be cast as supporting democratic values, because (federal) judges are not elected and judges (elected or not) are not supposed to “make policy.” In reality, applying “plain language” rules (dictionary and grammar meanings divorced from intent and extrinsic evidence of what the legislature intended) are remarkably malleable and can allow surprisingly unintended interpretations in the hands of ideologically motivated judges.
- A desire to hem in or limit legislation – a preference for thwarting legislation rather than effectuating or helping to faithfully implement its purposes. To me it seems almost inevitable that slavishly following the text will frequently make it more difficult to effectively legislate (a good result for someone who favors small and constrained government). This is so because it will require more runs through a legislative process that favors playing defense (preventing change). One might assume that strictly binding courts to the rigid text would be equally probable to break either way – i.e., in favor or against bigger government. I think that is unlikely to be the case, because impractical and egregious mistakes that disadvantage private actions are often ignored by the executive on grounds of impracticality. It’s more than ties go to those favoring limited government – short of drafting very general provisions (and investing a lot discretion to the executive, which may not be favored for a host of reasons), it is very hard (impossible) to anticipate the multiplicity of fact situations and future developments. Thus, I see the attraction of rigid textualism to those who favor more limited or less effective government. As a result, it undercuts the power of the legislative branch by raising hurdles that must be cleared by staff drafters – getting the text exactly right (anticipating the unforeseeable) as well as avoiding mistakes.
So much for my ranting.
How much would it matter? Assessing that is key (for a judge considering adopting the canon or for a legislature thinking of codifying it). The key point would be the fuzzy step 3 (and to a lesser extent step 2), I think, and how that is expressed and applied. I don’t have a good feel for that. I think the current system (before the advent of rigid textualist) coped pretty well.
Would staff evidence of their mistakes be considered? Focusing on Burwell may make it easy to overlook that there will be inevitable questions of whether or not provision really was drafted in error. (Of course, for Cross that’s not enough – a mistake needs to thwart an overarching purpose.) Since I was many times asked to attest to legislative intent, one naturally assumes that staff would be pressed to admit/testify to having made a mistake contrary to what the author/committee/etc wanted. That raises some interesting questions. I assume that evidence for the existence of the mistake and its contravening an overarching purpose would need to be contemporaneous with passage, so it could not be ginned up or augmented after the fact. Cross does not mention any of that as far as I can remember.
Division of labor and should it matter? As noted, Professor Cross relies heavily on the idea that it is not appropriate to hold generalist legislators responsible for the drafting errors of their staff agents. As a former drafter, that sure resonates with me personally. But the actual logic is less clear to me. Would he apply the same rule to regulations that have the force of law and go through an executive branch approval process? The same division of labor probably exists there (drafter versus higher up that ultimately must sign off)? Because of the practice of explicitly stating purposes of regs and administrative rules (typically anyway), a clearer understanding of purpose would seem to be present to test against. Entity based intent also seems less of a synthetic concept for regulations than legislation, making it an easier choice to invalidate an inconsistent drafting error. Would the result be different in a parliamentary system (e.g., the UK) where the executive and legislative branches are unitary and legislation could be considered a product akin to an administrative regulation? Is the problem that in America each legislator is considered more a free agent and that drafting and review is typically done by central agency staff who are not directly responsible to or supervised by the members (Cross doesn’t discuss this element of the process)? Lots of interesting questions to me that the article does not plum.
Polarization makes this a bigger problem. Anyone involved in the legislative process knows that drafting errors regularly occur. Everyone makes mistakes and some of them slip through even the best of quality control systems. Moreover, as the old proverb says, “haste makes waste” and the legislative process is characterized by much haste. So, no surprise, drafting errors are not an uncommon occurrence – if only because there is not enough time for several layers of carefully checking, even if that is what operational protocols call for.
A recent WaPo article provides what appears to be a good example of a recent mistake in a relatively high profile federal law, the December budget deal, which granted parental leave benefits to federal employees. According to the article, the benefits were not extended to a fair number of employees as a result of what appears to be a cross reference error (i.e., not listing all the relevant statutes to cover the intended employees). That is a classic type of error that can easily occur.
Traditionally, this sort of thing was not a serious problem with a collegial legislature that recognizes errors occur and routinely corrects them, even if doing so cedes a modest advantage to the other side. In the federal tax legislative process that was regularly done by enacting technical correction legislation. In Minnesota, similar technical correction fixes were also routinely done in omnibus tax bills. Both of those practices occur less commonly now, if at all, unfortunately. In the past, most members recognized that fixing unintended (staff) mistakes was the right thing to do to honor legislative intent and/or agreements on deals (even when there was change in control after the bill’s enactment).
Polarization and a “take no prisoners” warfare approach to the legislative process has made it increasingly unlikely that errors are corrected in controversial legislation. Elections that empower an “out” party to block legislative fixes by taking control of one house or the executive are a factor too. The ACA is, of course, the high-profile example. For the ACA the depth of the Republican opposition caused years of litigation that attempted to use a drafting error/oversight to invalidate a core part of the legislation. Two of the Supreme Court conservative majority stepped back from a talismanic commitment to plain language and textualism as an excuse to bring down a generational change in how America provides health benefits to a large segment of its population. I doubt that can be generalized to less high profile example, much as it might be good idea.
Possibility of state adoption. Cross’s article focuses on how congress drafts and reviews bill text. As a result, it has strictly no application for state courts interpreting state statutes. I suspect that his arguments would apply almost as well to larger and more sophisticated state legislatures (certainly the New Yorks and Californias). And it is courts in some of those states who are more likely to be open to his ideas, unfortunately. Just a thought.
Bottom line: the article provides some good background information about the Congressional processes and folkways, as well as raising some interesting questions, even if its proposal is unlikely to be adopted.