Thursday, October 7, 2010

Ransom

Last Monday, the Supreme Court heard argument in In re Ransom. A colleague on the law faculty whose forte is not bankruptcy asked me about the case in advance. He was showing an Australian law professor the sights in D.C. on the First Monday in October and Ransom was on the docket. My colleague expressed disappointment that the First Monday docket was clogged with an unexciting bankruptcy case. I told him that Ransom is exciting to me.

The case is about the meaning of a hideously drawn provision that appeared in the Bankruptcy Code as part of the 2005 Reform Act-- the so-called "means test" that governs a debtor's eligibility for discharge of debt under chapter 7 and chapter 13. In simple terms, a consumer debtor is eligible for debt forgiveness if her income is less than the Census Bureau-reported median income for her state. If her income is greater than the median income, then she is eligible for relief in a chapter 7 liquidation case, only if she doesn't have the "means" to pay down her debts over time while paying her current living expenses. If she wants to keep her property and pay down her debts over time, she is eligible for debt forgiveness in a chapter 13 case only if she pays creditors from her income each month the amount she has the "means" to pay. In both settings, "means" means the difference between the debtor's "current monthly income" and her expenses.

The Code provides a staggeringly unreadable list of the expenses that are to be considered for purposes of this comparison. Rather than relegate to the bankruptcy judge the role of determining which expenses that the debtor actually incurs are "reasonable and necessary" as was the judge's role before the 2005 Reform Act, the Code now describes the expenses that the debtor may deduct by reference to IRS published guidelines for agents (the National and Local Standards) who are trying to settle tax delinquencies with taxpayers based on the amount the taxpayer can realistically pay each month and survive.

In Ransom, the dispute was over the amount the debtor could count as an expense of car ownership. Particularly, the question was whether the debtor should be able to count the amount referenced in the Local Standards for a loan or lease payment even if he owns his car free and clear and doesn't actually make any loan or lease payments. In short, does the Code mean that the debtor should be credited with expenses he doesn't actually have for the purpose of determining his "means?" The bankruptcy court held that a debtor has to have some actual car payment expenses before he can claim the IRS plug amount as an expense. The Ninth Circuit affirmed contributing to a split in the circuits on this issue.

I felt it was important to explain to my colleague why this case is so interesting. So I cut to the chase. The "plain meaning" reading in this case is not easy to see because the statute is so badly drawn. The debtor will benefit from a reading that gives her the largest expense total and the largest deduction from income in calculating her "means." The trustee for the benefit of unsecured creditors like MBNA, the unsecured creditor who paid lawyers to take this case all the way to the Supreme Court, will benefit from a reading that limits debtors to the smallest expense total.

So, my colleague, an afficionado of legislative process and statutory interpretation, watched the argument and concluded that the Justices seemed stumped. The interpretation of the statute offered by both sides led to at least two completely absurd scenarios each. The one indisputable fact is that the statute let everyone down and the Court got the dirty job of cleaning up the mess.

My colleague offered the idea of a post legislative, pre-judicial clean up team -- a panel of "special masters" with bankruptcy expertise who would take the legislation that extrudes out of the Congressional sausage maker, consult with the ALI, lenders, borrowers, practitioners and academics, and draft a recommendation for courts who are put to the task of interpreting and applying the legislation.

My reaction to this idea was not good. I am already footing the bill for Congress and I do not want to pay for another layer of government workers who would be subject to the same political pressures that render the officials we elect to make law obviously and completely incapable of doing it. I think that the time for consultation with interest groups, academics, etc. is before the statute is enacted by Congress.

The problem I see is that legislators are hopelessly unmotivated and unable to understand the legislation they enact. The Supreme Court is now the cleanup operation of last resort for all sorts of badly drawn, ill conceived, utterly impractical and inscrutable legislation.

By way of history, as part of the 1994 amendments to the Bankruptcy Code, Congress ordered the creation of the National Bankruptcy Review Commission. This Commission undertook a complete review of the Code and held hearings at which bankruptcy scholars, practitioners and related industry experts had an opportunity to comment. It issued a comprehensive report and reform proposal with a vigorous dissent. Congress entirely ignored all of it. The bankruptcy bar picked to bits the consumer provisions in the legislation that ultimately became the 2005 Reform Act during the years it floated around Congress before it was enacted. Congress ignored it all. And it was easy, because congressmen and senators do not understand anything about the laws they enact. The voices of those who were advocating for technical amendments or otherwise pointing out absurdity in the proposed revisions to the Bankruptcy Code were no more than refrigerator hum. Bankruptcy, tax, administrative law, market regulation, environmental law, you name it -- it's all refrigerator hum.

The problem is easy to see but hard to fix. Bankruptcy policy is fundamental and richly complex. In a simple and broad sense, bankruptcy law describes whose debts may be forgiven. If you stop there, the politics are already hopeless. In debt as in life, sometimes you are the windshield and sometimes you are the bug. Nobody is always for more forgiveness or always for less. So the politics is really in the details. The problem is that as soon as you move past the core function of bankruptcy law into the practical and administrative issues,the core function becomes quickly lost and inaccessible to non-specialists. Instead of considering the basic contours of debt forgiveness directly, the Code provides for exemptions, avoidance powers, claims processes and, as in Ransom, eligibility for relief stated in nearly incomprehensible and arguably absurd terms. Legislators probably don't even think for a second about the macro implications of the law they are enacting: How does this law affect the question of who is forgiven? Rather, legislators tinker around the edges in response to special interest groups whose requests affect the measure of forgiveness in ways that would take at least a 14 week law school course to explain. In short, there are plenty of experts willing to teach members of Congress how changes in the law will or may affect the measure of forgiveness. The problem is the shortage of members of Congress who really want to make the investment necessary to acquire that information.

The second problem is related to the first. Negotiating legislation, like negotiating anything else is expensive. To reduce transaction costs, legislators translate complicated provisions into broad terms. For example, Republicans can sell to their base the idea that the cost of debt forgiveness is borne by people who find a way to live within their means, and thus, it should be harder to discharge debts in bankruptcy. Democrats can sell to their base (what Elizabeth Warren is selling) that the credit card companies are making oodles on consumer debt and they should bear a little pain to make life worth living for working people who hit hard times. The broad principles on which political bargaining occur are so broad that the actual legislation is left to non-legislator staffers and lobbyists who are primarily interested in getting the deal done rather than getting it done in a way that will not appear absurd to a court. The means test language before the Court in Ransom is a small part of a drafting exercise left to drafters who have no stake in the legislation post-enactment.

After the oral argument before the Court in Ransom, who on the Hill is red-faced about the unmissable disrespect for their work? That's right. Nobody. It's a sad indictment of democracy when citizens accept that legislators of all political persuasions are not personally or politically embarrassed by the shoddy quality legislation they impose on the citizens who elect them.













Friday, September 17, 2010

The Appoinment that Isn't

President Obama appointed Harvard bankruptcy law professor Elizabeth Warren to serve as special assistant to the president, presumably to avoid a tough confirmation battle in the Senate if he gave her the job he really wants her to do: Director of the newly created Bureau of Consumer Financial Protection.

Professor Warren is without question a very smart, hard hitting champion for the middle class. The whole thrust of her consumer protection vision is that the working guy can’t be expected to read the small print and that it’s time government started “looking out for the folks.” On the merits of her ideas, I can see why the banks are nervous. And I can see why turf-protecting administrators in DC are nervous. But apart from partisan knee-jerkism (and maybe there is nothing happening in DC apart from that), I don’t see a valid objection to her appointment as bureau director. Although I don’t agree with the way she proposes to protect the folks, I greatly admire that she has staked her career on what I see as a noble and selfless project. If we are going to have a new $500 million federal agency to pile more regulation on the consumer credit industry that will have no effect on consumers’ appetite for crack, she’s as qualified as anyone. At least I have a pretty good feeling that her hand will not be in the till.

I also have the feeling that nobody can afford crack and the crack dealers are packing up their tents anyway.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

In Re: Eddie Richardson, Penn State Dickinson School of Law, Class of 2009.

The State College contingent of the Penn State Dickinson School of Law, Class of 2009, showed up on campus in August of 2006- a new thing under the sun. We will be forever bound together, however tenuously as the years march on, by our membership in that class. For now, though, we are tightly bound together by the sad and unexpected news that our classmate and colleague, Eddie Richardson, has died. Two days shy of his twenty seventh birthday.

A light, as they say, has gone out in the world. Yet we may expect that the sky will be a little brighter from now on. Eddie, a luminescent figure in life, has ascended. Perhaps from his new and sky-bound home he will continue to do for us now what he did for us in life: shine his light upon us, and thereby, in the words of that Spanish poem, "...hacer mas claro y luminoso el dia." But now, from up there, he will reach us all at once and always, rather than, as he did in life, shine upon us separately and episodically, through his personal interactions with us.

Many members of our class knew Eddie better than I did. They no doubt can offer meaningful testimony to his life, and they are certainly invited and encouraged to do so here. But I think it says something very positive about Eddie that someone like me, who knew him, but not especially well, remembers him so fondly. He looms large in my memories of law school, and principally for this reason: He was the first person I met at the first orientation event that was held for our class, back in August of 2006. As an older student, and having just left professional life behind, I was nervous walking into the room that day; nervous about fitting in, about being accepted by my new classmates. It was a sort of discomfort I had not felt in years, back to the day I walked, as a stranger in a strange land, into the cafeteria of my new high school. I was all grown-up in 2006 when I walked into the law school orientation event, but in my mind I was right back in my high school cafeteria, embarrassingly desperate for the consolation of a friendly face.

And then there was Eddie. He was sitting at the table I arrived to- maybe he was the reason I arrived at that particular table- already popular with the people there and smiling genuinely back at me. He put me at ease. My nervousness was gone, never to return. That is the sort of kindness a person doesn't forget in life; I haven't and won't. Even if, in Eddie's case, it wasn't so much a kindness done to me as it was an expression of who he was; which was and remains a kindness done to everyone he knew.

I sat next to Eddie in our Administrative Law class during our last semester of law school. He regularly said the best things, most of which betrayed a rare wit and a high intelligence. One of those best things, which however did not tax either his wit or intelligence to conjure, was an occasional and appropriate, "This sucks." And he pronounced the word "sucks" in such a way that anyone unfamiliar with the word or its connotations would nevertheless have known what he meant by it; had he been made to write out his pronunciation, between the 's' and the 'cks' would have been about fourteen pregnant u's.

But then he would smile and go on. Which- in law school and in life- is the thing to do. It's the thing to do not because it's a grand invention, but because it stands well among a limited troupe of truly unpalatable alternatives.

Farewell, gentle-souled Eddie. Shine on down.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Light in August (or September)


End of Summer

by Stanley Kurtz

An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones
Amaded, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.

Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was forever over.

Already the iron door of the North
Clangs open: birds,leaves,snows
Order their populations forth,
And a cruel wind blows.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Double or Nothing

This is the year you are going to really study. No more Super Mario Brothers or Zappo.com in class. Goodbye Facebook, Twitter and fantasy football. The weekend shrinks back down to two days, maybe one. It's all going to be different this year, and your grade point average is finally going to show your true potential.

Wanna bet?

Ultrinsic will take that action. This new company, in its beta phase, invites college students to bet that they will beat their statistically predicted grade in a particular course. A student who wants to bet provides information about how he's done in college so far, available data regarding applicable grading curves for various departments, professors, and courses. Ultrinsic runs the data through a formula that predicts how he'll do in a particular course and offers a wager that the student can't beat it. If the student beats the predicted grade, Ultrinsic pays off according to the predicted handicap. If the student doesn't, he pays. The house makes money the old fashioned way, the predictive formula stacks the odds for the house. It wins more than it loses.

During the pilot last year, 600 or so students at NYU and Penn took the bet. This year, Ultrinsic plans to expand to 34 campuses.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

How to Get to the Corner Office

Randy Schrum speaks his mind about social media on MyCorporateMedia. He's a CEO who wants to confess, really explain how blogging, twittering and status updating plays out in the corner office, the boardroom and in the market.

The essence of social media activity is social-- and that's the problem. He says:

"The premise and value of the "social media" movement is the power of the collective in the production, distribution, and ownership of goods, and the reasons executives resist this model is that it flies in the face of their existing worldview which, quite frankly, has been pretty successful to date. . . . Most of us have a pretty big chip on our shoulders, attributing our career success to the years of diligence, education, ambition, delayed gratification and sacrifices we've made to reach the leadership levels we've achieved. Therefore, the anti-capitalistic notion that my work and contributions would be homogenized with the uninspired masses, and that ultimately my value would be determined by the randomness of the collective is a jarring and unplatable departure."

Schrum offers an interesting insight into the psyche of executives. The term "executive" isn't so much a title as a mindset that manifests in childhood. People with executive tendencies spent high school taking AP classes, and working a couple of part time jobs. They spend their college years running student organizations, doing internships and taking an overload of classes to finish early. Executives are compulsive high achievers but they tend to shrink from public recognition of their achievements. Schrum notes that "executives are non-narcissistic in a You-Tube world." "In a society that brags, blogs and Tweets about the tiniest personal minutia, [executives] couldn't care less because, frankly we expect success. . . . It's like Vince Lombardi's admonition to his running back after an overly exuberant display. "Next time you make a touchdown, act like you've been there before."

Executives hate social networking because they hate "networking." They dread the roomful of strangers, the awkward chit chat, never enough food. Executives are introverts who value their privacy and consider the ROI (return on investment) for each moment of time.

Schrum's rant puts a name to a reaction I've observed in myself. I'm not so sure that social networking is or can be a business tool, or that the act of sharing half-baked ideas should substitute for the hard and lonely work of baking them.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Oh, Puleeeeze

The eye roll is in peril as a form of political speech. In Elmhurst, Illinois, the eye roll may be criminal disorderly conduct. The City Council Chairman ejected a citizen who dared to show her disgust with committee proceedings with a roll/sigh combo. Backpeddling after some backlash, the Chair has sent the City Attorney to the library to do a memo on what exactly constitutes criminal disorderly conduct in Elmhurst. (This is my nominee for worst legal research assignment of the summer-- What's yours?)

The Chicago Tribue editors have this to say:

"Where do you draw that line? (Eyes uplifted, palms outstretched, as if beseeching the heavens.) Menacing others, throwing objects and setting fire to the dais are clearly out of line. But is it disorderly to yawn, fidget, smirk or scowl? To circle an ear with an index finger to signify "cuckoo"? To feign a self-induced upchuck, as we're doing now?

Funny thing about public meetings: They tend to expose disparate viewpoints, especially if the discussion is about something like whether it's a smart idea for one government body to spend taxpayer dollars to lobby another government body for more taxpayer dollars. (Ahem.) Reasonable people can disagree, and before you know it, they're raising their voices and (eyes wide in mock horror) making faces.

Our advice to public servants who think citizen discourse is somehow disrespectful to the democratic process: Get over yourselves. Your job is to heed those opinions, like them or not. If a pair of arched eyebrows can bring the legislative process to a halt, then it's time to throw out the aldermen, not the citizens. And we say that with a completely straight face."