Then and Now: Two Perspectives on our Legal System

-- By CourtneyDoak - 14 May 2012

A Revelation While Reading Transcendental Nonsense and the Functional Approach

Reading Transcendental Nonsense and the Functional Approach left me unsettled, eliciting discomfort because Cohen made me realize that I have been growing increasingly cynical in my outlook on the law.

As a child, I regarded our legal system as synonymous with justice. Yet my first year of law school, spent studying the very system I had regarded as infallible, left my faith profoundly shaken. I was uneasy and in search of answers – answers on how to reconcile my perspectives, on how to bring the law into alignment with my childhood reverence for it.

Law, Through a Child's Eyes

My first perspective on the law – that it is a vehicle to effect meaningful change and safeguard morality – may seem naïve, but this was the perspective informed by my only actual experience with a lawyer.

My sisters and I were raised by a mother who was neglectful at best, abusive at worst. The promise of escape came when I was ten years old and my father filed for divorce. I recall how scared I was of being taken from my dad, how helpless I felt at my fate being decided in this unfamiliar world of courtrooms, filled by strangers speaking a language I couldn’t understand.

I distinctly remember the day when my fears were quelled. Someone stepped in to help, someone who promised that my voice would be heard in that world of courtrooms. My lawyer promised she’d do all she could to protect my sisters and me, and this was a promise she kept: when the proceedings ended, my dad had full custody and we were finally safe.

This advocate – who made sure that my voice was heard when I couldn’t use it myself –freed me from the circumstances of my childhood and changed the course of my life entirely. And so it was this experience that informed my initial understanding of our legal system as synonymous with justice.

Cynicism, and Transcendental Nonsense

My second perspective on the law – molded by my 1L experience – is more cynical.

As I struggled reading judicial opinions littered with legal jargon – words and rules that meant nothing to me a few months ago, I wondered why these words were regarded as meaningful, why the rules were regarded as self-evident truisms.

Cohen’s piece brought coherence to my nebulous thoughts: the magic ‘solving words’ of legal problems are hollow transcendental nonsense; the ‘rules’ are self-referential creations by the law; as such the legal arguments couched in these terms are inherently circular.

I became acutely aware that courts use transcendental nonsense to hide that, oftentimes, arbitrary factors and undisclosed agendas drive decision-making.

Reconciling my Perspectives

Upon realization that I have two drastically different perspectives on the law, I began wondering how studying a system I revered as a child could have diminished my reverence for it so rapidly.

I think that an explanation lies in the fact that when I was a child, my view of the law was not colored by transcendental nonsense. The contours of my childhood understanding of law were shaped by answers that my lawyer gave me when I asked her questions. She conveyed clearly to me how the judge would decide which parent my sisters and I would live with; she made the foreign universe of courtrooms understandable by describing what would transpire there and how it would tangibly impact me.

I see now that my attorney, who stripped her language of nonsensical legal terms that mean nothing to a child, was using Cohen’s functional approach.

The Implications of my Epiphany

This revelation made me reflect on how to improve our legal system so that it would reflect my childhood conceptions. I posited that the answer was for lawyers and judges to speak and write as if informing a child, as my attorney did for me so many years ago. After all, children do not revere meaningless legal principles – children make outcome-based inquiries and seek functional answers. A shift to this outcome-oriented functionalism was the only way I could see to reconcile the law with my childhood admiration for it.

While I believe there is merit to my original conclusion, Professor Moglen illuminated the fact that my lawyer was able to convey the workings of the law in a way that carried meaning for a ten-year-old in part because my case was unambiguous: the ‘rightness’ of my wishes was corroborated by the record of my parents’ conduct.

So I sought to explore the application of my epiphany to the full range of legal experiences, to cases involving more complex human affairs, where right and wrong aren’t immediately discernable from the record. On further reflection, I have come to understand that in practice oftentimes it simply won’t be possible to implement functionalism in a manner understandable to a child, as my lawyer was able to do for me.

However, I do still fundamentally believe in the principle underpinning my initial conclusion, if not its practical application. I still believe that transformation to a functional approach to law is key to making room for ethical appraisal of the legal system. Thus, while speaking and writing as though to a child may not always be possible, perhaps what is more important is simply for judges and lawyers to replace the fictions of traditional jurisprudence with honesty in their spoken and written word.

Such honesty could form the starting point for functional analysis, as we would have a more realistic conception of ‘law’, as defined by Justice Holmes in The Path of the Law: “prophecies of what the courts will do in fact”. Perhaps such functionalism will in turn eradicate the use of amoral legal principles and open the door to a legal system informed by human values and conceptions of morality. It is transformation of this kind that would truly render the law worthy of my childhood reverence for it.

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-- CourtneyDoak - 15 May 2012