A
Notice Theory of Just Punishment
Lawrence
Crocker Draft 6/19/14
There
float around courthouses various versions of the following bit of
folk criminal justice theory, “If you can’t do the time, don’t
do the crime.” Implicit in this is the idea that it is fair to
punish an offender with any penalty in the code, a code he easily
could have looked up.The theory places no upper limit on prison
terms, short of what the legislature sets in its even handed concern
for victims and offenders.
For
many years I thought that this theory, though having some superficial
appeal, was based on wholly fallacious reasoning. Then I began to
think that there might be something right about it. What fallows is
what I think is right.
A.
Bev’s Case
Bev,
an investment banker late to an important client meeting, parked her
car on the street and ran towards the lobby of the office tower. A
parking enforcement officer yelled after her “You, just parked in a
red zone.” Bev replied, “O.K..” Parking Officer: “That’s
going to be $300.” Bev: “I hear you,” as she disappeared into
the building.
Assume
that Bev did indeed park in a red zone – a zone marked out for
special parking fines because of its importance to traffic flow. High
fines had been found necessary to deter illegal parking in this part
of the city. Assume as well that Bev paid the $300 ticket left on
her windshield. Bev’s
making the $300 payment is a paradigm case of just punishment.
Certainly it is hard to claim that there was anything unfair in the
way Bev was treated – despite the high dollar amount.
In
saying that this is a paradigm case of justice in punishment, I
specifically avoid saying that it is the only such paradigm.There is
also justice, of a different sort, in the informal punishment of
socially snubbing someone who snubbed you in a similar circumstance.
In general, talionic (“eye for eye”) punishment in terms of
equality with respect to harms caused, rights violated, or risks
imposed, may also be paradigmatically just. Sometimes, however,
talionic punishment, e.g. for a small theft or minor assault, may be
insufficient to give much deterrence effect. If we relied upon
talionic punishment alone, even on sophisticated and extended
versions, we might have too little crime control.1
This criticism extends to my “Upper Limit of Just Punishment,”
Emory Law Journal, 1992, which I now think tells only part of the
story of justice in punishment, and even that part has some errors.
I
also use “paradigm” to avoid setting out necessary and sufficient
conditions for just punishment. When we have a paradigm instance, as
in Bev's case, we can be confident that the punishment is just. As we
deviate from the paradigm along various dimensions, punishment may
well become less just, without their being any but an arbitrary line
between the not very just and the wholly unjust – although some
punishments are paradigmatically unjust, as well.
Back
to Bev. It is worthwhile to inventory the features this case has, and
those features it may well lack. First, Bev may not have caused any
harm. Although red zone parking is proscribed because it generally
obstructs traffic, vehicle flows may have been unusually light on the
day of Bev’s meeting. No backup at all may have resulted from her
illegal parking. Additionally, Bev might be an amateur student of
traffic matters who was very well aware that her illegal parking
would, this day, cause no harm. We may be tempted to say that it was
too bad that Bev paid so steep a fine for doing something she knew to
be harmless, but we would not think that her being required to pay
was unfair. These reflections show that what is going on here cannot
be accounted for by a retributive theory of punishment that focuses
either on resulting harm or mental culpability respecting resulting
harm.
Bev
also need not have expected that she would in fact be fined. She
might have thought the officer was bluffing and would not write the
ticket. She might have thought that if she got a ticket she could get
it fixed by her friend at City Hall. She certainly need not have
anticipated actually paying the fine, perhaps believing that scofflaw
enforcement was too lax to worry about. So she need not have
anticipated either that she would be charged with an offense or
punished.
It
has been suggested that the offender’s consent is what justifies
punishment.2
Bev’s conduct does bring to mind aspects of the consent family of
concepts, but what she did was at most a distant cousin of true
consent. There was no agreement that Bev entered into with the
officer. Bev did not say, “I agree that I am liable for a $300
fine,” or “I consent to your writing a ticket that will require
me to pay $300.” She did not waive $300 worth of her right to her
personal property, and there is nothing from which any such waiver
could be inferred.
What
could Bev’s “I hear you” be fairly taken to convey? Here this
once common expression, now well past its prime, can be taken at face
value. Bev is acknowledging that she hears, and understands, that if
she does not move her car she risks being held legally liable for a
$300 fine. “I hear you,” because it did not dispute the statement
of the uniformed officer, might also be said to express, or at least
imply, her understanding that the officer was speaking
authoritatively as a representative of the state in stating the fine
amount.
What
is morally crucial here is not an agreement or any sort of
quasi-agreement or waiver, it is something that Bev now has good
reason to believe, and it is what Bev does. Being fully aware of
presumptively reliable information about her potential legal
liability if she does not move her car, Bev elects to face the
consequences. She goes into the building rather than moving her car
and embarrassing herself by being tardy to the meeting. That she would
rather risk the liability for a $300 fine than the displeasure of her
clients is what makes it so clearly fair to carry through on the
fine.
B. The
Key Features.
It
seems to me that the following are the conditions involved in making
punishment fair in the way that Bev’s fine is fair.
- B had fair notice that she would be liable to the consequences if B did a particular act.
- B elected so to act.
- The person making the threat was appropriately situated, as a moral matter, to make the threat to B and to carry through on it.
C. Standing
to Punish.
In
considering some of the implications of this paradigm for punishment
theory and practice, I want to take up the third feature first.
Consider a variation on Bev’s case. Ben, an investment banker late
to an important client meeting, parked his car on the street and ran
towards the lobby of the office tower. A 20 year old wearing gang
colors yelled after him “That’s one of our parking spots.” Ben
replied, “O.K..” Gang member: “That’s going to be $300.”
Ben: “I hear you,” as he disappeared into the building. An hour
later, when Ben emerged from the building, he was set upon by three
gang members who grabbed his billfold, riffled it, and fled, leaving
the billfold behind on the sidewalk. Ben found that $300 in cash was
missing from the billfold.
I
introduce this variation for two purposes. First, it helps dispel any
lingering intuitions that Bev’s conduct amounted to some form of
agreement, consent, or waiver. Bev did nothing more that could be
relevant to these concepts than did Ben. There is little temptation
to say that Ben tacitly consented to parting with his $300 or that he
waived $300 worth of his property rights. What Ben did was to express
his understanding of the nature of the threat directed at him. Ben
could have moved his car, but instead elected to face possible
consequences from the gang rather than the displeasure of his
clients.
We
do not, of course, think that the $300 was justly taken from Ben. At
most we have a grudging respect for the gang for being so scrupulous
as to carry through only on their explicit threat rather than to keep
the entire contents of Ben’s wallet or to beat him to a pulp as
well. What the gang did was in that minimal respect not unfair. Ben
got just what was threatened if he parked in that spot. But overall
what happened to Ben was unfair because what was threatened was a
robbery.
My
second, and chief, purpose for giving the Ben variation is to examine
what sets the two cases apart. Bev’s penalty came at the hands of
those who had moral standing to exact such a penalty; Ben’s did
not. Bev and Ben do not differ with respect to their ability to elect
to avoid threatened consequences by moving their cars. They need not
differ in their assessment of the probabilities of their loss of the
$300. They each could have considered it very likely, very unlikely,
or somewhere in between. Though I did not describe the officer’s
shouts at Bev as threats, that would be as appropriate a description
as it was in Ben’s case.
The
salient difference obviously was that the officer threatened Bev with
the consequences of a legal liability and the gang member threatened
Ben with robbery. The parking ordinances were enacted by a legitimate
government. If they were not, if for example a block organization
decided to establish red zones and to have its agents hand out
tickets, without any authority to do so, then it would be a different
case. (If Bev paid such a ticket under the misapprehension she was
required to do so by law, she would have been defrauded, not
punished.)
Legitimate
state authority can justly establish legal liabilities including
liabilities carrying punishment. Control of crime is a core state
responsibility, and with that responsibility comes state
prerogatives. Some punishment theorists essentially stop here. Having
the responsibility to control crime, the state, perhaps via some
social contract reasoning, has a right to punish at least up to the
severity drawn from utilitarian calculation. My view is that state
legitimacy is a necessary condition on such punishments as
incarceration, but that severity is subject to justice constraints,
and so features (1) and (2) come into play if we are looking towards
Bev case type justice.
It
is important that Bev's case paradigm depends upon state legitimacy
in a way that the talionic paradigm of just punishment does not. If
you, in your fun loving way, push me off the dock into the lake on
Monday morning, it is not unjust for me to return the favor on
Tuesday. My giving you fair warning that I will shoot your dog with
my pellet gun if he crosses my yard again, however, does not make my
subsequent shooting paradigmatically just.
The
question exactly how much legitimacy a state must have to enforce
what sort of laws is a difficult one. I take it that the Nazi state
lacked the legitimacy to enforce its racial laws, and all punishments
under those laws were unjust. Yet if the Reich's traffic regulations
were enforced in a generally impartial fashion, it is arguable that
its traffic fines were not unjust.3
An
otherwise legitimate state may also act beyond its authority in
meting out punishments. Any penalty for conduct that no one could
have guessed would be considered criminal, as in ex
post facto prosecutions, is a clear example.
These sorts of punishments, however, are already excluded by the
first feature of the paradigm.
Proper
publication will not serve to bring within the paradigm punishment
pursuant to a law criminalizing conduct that ought to be beyond state
regulation. For example, a state with otherwise unquestionable
legitimacy would arguably act ultra vires
were it to criminalize, perhaps under the heading “countenancing
treason” the thinking of thoughts critical of the government or its
officials. One does not have to hold too exotic a contractarian
theory to believe that some prohibitions are properly beyond the
reach of even the most legitimate of states.
It
is also arguable that certain sorts of punishment are always
illegitimate even in support of otherwise proper criminal
prohibitions. Torture and death are the most obvious candidates. The
arguments that these are ultra vires turn
on specific features of torture and capital punishment, their
cultures and consequences. I will not examine those arguments here.
The
chief way in which we may suspect that liberal states punish beyond
their authority is in giving prison sentences disproportionately long for the crime.
Here, however, the best arguments seem to run from the injustice of
the punishment to their ultra vires
character rather than the other way round. In exploring the moral
limits of criminal punishment, I will assume as a background matter
that the state is otherwise legitimate.
So,
the question whether a state could properly enact a law requiring its
citizens to vote is one that goes directly to state legitimacy. If
such a law is permissible, however, whether its violation could
properly be punished by a year in prison will, I think, turn on
matters more specific to punishment theory, to be discussed below.
D.
The Quality of the Notice
If
a punishment is to be justified as in Bev’s case, is it a problem
for condition (1) if the offender does not in fact know the range of
the penalties he faces for the offense he is about to commit?
Although many career street criminals are remarkably well informed on
the statutory penalties for their favorite crimes, white collar
criminals, although often college graduates, are typically oblivious
as to such matters.
For
a malum in se offense,
an act of obvious wrongness, the offender pleading lack of actual
notice of the penalty, should usually not receive much sympathy. He
could have looked the penalty up on the internet. It is true that
the calculation of a Federal Guidelines level can be tricky, and is
now, in principle, truly only a guideline for the sentencing judge.
Yet, it is fairly straightforward to find maximum sentences, and,
with a little patience and acuity, one can find probable sentences.
Of course, the typical real world offender will not have had the
express notice Bev received. If one is considering committing an
offense, however, it is certainly rational, if unusual, to look up
the penalty. There is, in short, a fairly good “constructive”
notice of the penalty for anyone considering committing what is
obviously a crime.
The
malum in se offender
who does not bother to look it up can complain of the severity of his
sentence only if it departs too far from what anyone could have
anticipated. The $3000 parking fine and the 75 year term for shop
lifting would be examples, assuming that there was so much other
compelling news that these draconic penalties became law with little
media attention. These extreme penalties may well be undeserved, in
the way that two eyes for an eye would be underserved. That is not
the defect I am concerned with here, however. There would (or could)
be failure to give good notice because of the unexpectedness of the
departure from the regime of existing penalties, more or less
publicly known. This upper limit will vary depending upon the
severity of the regime of punishment as a whole. In a generally
draconian system, the offender would have to anticipate greater
severity in the penalty he omitted to check in advance.
For
malum prohibitum
offenses, which are not moral wrongs, the offender has a compelling
argument if he did not know that there was any penalty at all. Once,
however, he knows that his projected conduct constitutes an offense,
he must, again, inquire or forego any claims of unfairness for any
penalty that does not depart too far from what could be anticipated.
I
conclude, then, that the fact that real world notice of penalty
usually falls well short of the notice Bev received does not
disqualify the paradigm as a device for analyzing, and potentially
justifying, real world criminal sentences. Requirement (1) notice
does not make all actual sentences unjust under the paradigm. It has
that effect only in the (relatively rare) cases in which the penalty
for an offense is more severe than the defendant could reasonably
have anticipated given an average citizen's understanding of the
background level of the existing system of criminal penalties.
E.
Election
Real
world Bevs will rarely receive unintuitively high penalties in those
cases in which requirements (1) and (2) are fully satisfied. Informed
of, and believing in the existence of, say a $2000 fine, the
displeasure of her clients would be outweighed, and Bev would move
her car.
As
a conceptual matter, however, (1) and (2) may initially seem
consistent with indefinitely severe penalties, at least if there has
been fair notice of the severity. Alexander argued this point
against Nino’s “Consent” theory of punishment, a theory which,
despite its name, understood punishment in terms of conditions fairly
similar to (1) and (2). Although Alexander had the better of that
argument, I think that Nino in the end was right. An upper limit is
implicit in what makes punishment fair in cases like Bev’s, and in
the punishment theory that results from its generalization.
What
gives this paradigm its force in justifying punishment simultaneously
implies an upper limit on the severity of punishment. Yes, feature
(2) of the paradigm is consistent with some long prison sentences.
The logic of (2), however, keeps the paradigm from blowing the lid
off penalties altogether.
Let
us take a closer look at why we think it fair that Bev should pay the
$300. It is because she let herself in for it in a fully voluntary
and informed way. It was her own choice. This is not to say that she
chose the penalty or even accepted the penalty, but she did choose to
take on a risk of that penalty with eyes wide open.
Some
caution is needed here, however. We do not always insist that people
take the consequences of risks they have chosen even with their eyes
wide open. If you agree to a liquidated damages clause in a contract,
the amount of which is far greater than any reasonable estimate of
expectable damages, courts will refuse to enforce the clause upon
your default. Other contract clauses too are unenforceable if they
are so extreme as to be unconscionable. Someone in Bev's position
has, as a moral matter, a similar defense against very severe
penalties. Surely, what Bev did in taking on the risk of liability
committed her no more tightly than does a signature on a written
contract.
It
is worth examining, then, a factually close analogy in Bev’s case
to an unconscionable contract term. Suppose that the parking officer,
somehow, persuades Bev that there is actually a $300,000 fine for
parking in her chosen space. The business consequences of Bev’s
being late are at most a few thousand. Therefore if Bev now fails to
move her car, she is acting irrationally, very irrationally. How
would such irrationality affect the moral force of a penalty limited
by feature (2)?
That
moral force clearly would not be affected if Bev’s decision is only
irrational in that she made a slight miscalculation. If the expected
utility of moving her car would have been marginally better than that
of her arriving punctually to her meeting, she fails to be a rational
economic maximizer. This level of irrationality, however, does not
call into question the voluntariness of her election. The parking
judge would be right in rejecting Bev's defense of miscalculation.
The
irrationality must be more serious before it has moral weight. Bev’s
competence to make decisions must be in some question, at least as a
temporary matter. If we do get to that level of irrationality,
however, it eviscerates the moral force of penalties supposedly
supported by (2).
Suppose
that someone in Bev’s position is otherwise acting bizarrely, for
example, by engaging in a one-sided shouting match with a street
light. He is told by a parking officer of the amount of a traffic
fine, and replies, “Thank you, Admiral.” Here we simply would not
know what to make of his declining to move his car. He may not
understand the warning or appreciate its significance for his future.
He may not really be able to move his car. In any event, we lose our
confidence that his not moving his car ought properly be described as
an “election.” We would still lack that confidence even if it
turned out that the defendant was sane in terms of the criminal law
definition of insanity.
A
level of rationality is essential, then, for (2) to give rise to any
presumption that the penalty is justified. As the severity of the
penalty reaches heights that cast serious doubt on that rationality,
Bev’s paradigm loses force. In the absence of any data going to the
states of mind of offenders, it is no easy matter, however, to
determine what level of sentence is so high as to make it doubtful
that there has been an “election.” Consider, for concreteness, a
middle level assault. What I have in mind by “middle level” would
be, for example a bare fist beating that inflicts some severe pain
and causes the victim to miss three or four days of work. By the end
of three weeks, however, the victim is entirely back to normal with
no physical deficits or scars.
Suppose
that B is clearly
about to attack A and
that an assault as described would ensue. A
bystander yells at A,
“You could get life in prison if you beat him up, and there are
police just down the block.” B,
who indicates that he understands and believes the bystander, then
throws the first of several punches.
Whether
it is fair to send B
to prison until his death depends upon B’s
state of mind when he decides to go ahead with his assault. If, for
example, A is a
lifelong enemy, who has done truly awful things to B
and B’s family, then
B might well elect,
with full cost-benefit rationality, to face even the certainty of
life imprisonment to beat A. Indeed, B might be grateful for the opportunity. If A is
a lesser object of hatred, but B has
not much fear of prison, in fact is indifferent as to whether he is
in or out, B might
also elect to go forward with the assault with eyes wide open.
Offenders with highly idiosyncratic preferences like these do exist,
but even among offenders they are uncommon.
Far
more common is the typical bar brawler, too drunk and too angry to
factor into his decision making the disadvantages of a lifetime
caged. His assault does not look very much at all like Bev’s
election. We would not want a penalty for middle level assault so
high that we can expect many of the offenses must have been committed
by those who did not take the penalty into account.
The
whole analysis becomes more complicated when we include the important
real world fact that most offenders expect not to be caught. It is
not that they prefer the announced prison sentence to foregoing their
crime. Their cost-benefit preferences may be fairly normal, but,
inasmuch as they will never be apprehended, and certainly not
convicted, as they believe, those preferences make no difference.
We
do not have much sympathy for the brawler who believes he can
certainly duck out through the alley and outrun the police. We count
his decision, though stupid, as sufficiently voluntary to count as an
election. At least we do up to a point. It is fair enough if done in
the face of a one or two year sentence, perhaps even a five year
sentence. But it does seem hard to support the fairness of a sentence
of life in prison on the basis of the risk having been elected on so
flawed a probability analysis.
What
if B knew that he was
surrounded by police, what would we make then of his confidence that
he could dodge through and out sprint them? No doubt we want to
convict him. We might even say that he elected the risk of life in
prison. His analysis of the risk was so divorced from reality,
however, that it no longer resembles Bev’s. As offender
incompetence at probability analysis increases, the paradigm again
applies less and less well.
It
therefore makes no difference whether our angry, drunk brawler throws
his punch after hearing about life in prison because he cannot bring
himself to focus on costs and benefits at all or because he cannot
begin to do the probabilities. In neither instance can we comfortably
say it is just that he receive the penalty of which he was informed.
So, although occasionally a close psychological investigation would
reveal that it was fair to administer a very high threatened penalty
to middle level assailant, far more frequently the criminal conduct,
in such cases, could not be traced to an election that looks
voluntary on Bev’s model.
If,
then, we were legislators trying to use this paradigm in setting a
maximum penalty for our middle level assault, we should conclude that
life imprisonment would risk injustice in too many cases.
Going
towards the other extreme, consider a nine month sentence. Doubtless
most fully rational Bs
would not commit the assault if the announced penalty were nine
months in jail, but committing the offense with knowledge of this
penalty does not imply a level of irrationality so extreme as to make
it unfair to administer the threatened sentence. We think, “Yes,
people can commit such assaults reasonably voluntarily in the face of
a nine month sentence.”
How
high can the penalty go before we lose this assurance? In the absence
of any data, this is no easy question. My own concerns arise in the
neighborhood of a two year announced sentence. At that point, I begin
to have serious doubt that a middle level assault could be
sufficiently like an “election” for it to be fair to administer
the threatened sentence – except in such rare cases as the lifelong
enemy. I do not, however, put great stock in my intuitions on this
point. I anticipate others, asking the same questions would come up
with somewhat different answers.
That
this paradigm will not produce a neat and uncontroversial sentencing
table should not be too dispiriting. Nothing else does either –
certainly nothing else that can purport to be fair to the offender,
nothing that would meet the Kantian prescription against using the
offender as a means only.
Desert in the extended family of an eye for an eye potentially might give us more precision, but for a wide range of less serious offenses and middle level sentences, there seems to be no plausible concept of such desert that gives us enough crime control. Its sentences will not be severe enough to control crime through deterrence, incapacitation, or rehabilitation. Bev’s paradigm shows a way we can get penalties with more teeth for smaller thefts and the less violent of violent offenses. It does so, however, while still retaining some upper limit on the severity of punishment. Not every severe sentence becomes just by the simple expedient of being passed and published.
Desert in the extended family of an eye for an eye potentially might give us more precision, but for a wide range of less serious offenses and middle level sentences, there seems to be no plausible concept of such desert that gives us enough crime control. Its sentences will not be severe enough to control crime through deterrence, incapacitation, or rehabilitation. Bev’s paradigm shows a way we can get penalties with more teeth for smaller thefts and the less violent of violent offenses. It does so, however, while still retaining some upper limit on the severity of punishment. Not every severe sentence becomes just by the simple expedient of being passed and published.
1
See Alan H. Goldman, “The Paradox of Punishment,” 9 Philosophy
& Public Affairs 42 (1979).
2C.S.
Nino, “A Consensual Theory of Punishment” 12 Philosophy &
Public Affairs 289 (1983)
3
Yet should a member of the Weise Rose have felt moral
compunctions about ripping up a parking ticket if their VW had been
ticketed while they were out putting up anti-Nazi posters?
Generally, however, even the least legitimate of de facto
states probably have authority to punish rape and non-political
murder, theft, and other offenses that are considered criminal
everywhere.
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