Bloody Glucose!

By Friso Jansen[1]

Sarah is worried: she has diabetes and her blood glucose readings are high.[2]  She goes to see her general practitioner (GP) and asks her what she should do. Together they go through all the options: increasing the doses of her drug, adding a new drug to her current treatment, adopting changes in lifestyle and optimizing her measurement of blood glucose levels. They decide that it is best if another drug is added to her treatment so that her blood glucose levels would fall below the level they have agreed was appropriate for her.

This fictional exchange is a somewhat idealised form of patient-centred care and shared decision making that is currently seen as the hallmark of quality in medicine. Behind this mundane and routine exchange however is a fascinating world of socio-legal discovery. If we ask ourselves which tools and knowledge the parties need to be able to have in order to have this exchange, the answer may be found in the concept of evidence-based medicine.

Evidence-based Medicine: the End of the Clinical Eye?

This concept encapsulates a movement in medicine that started in the early nineties which aims to base treatment decisions on the best available objective scientific evidence: a move away from – in their eyes – from a time when clinical knowledge, the knowledge gathered trough experience with patients and watching other doctors perform medicine, was all important and scientific studies were not used in a systematic way to improve patient care. Due to the higher complexity of diseases, the great increase in treatment options and the increase in the volume of scientific literature it has become more complex to provide the right treatment. The evidence-based medicine movement called for medical treatment guidelines to help GPs and other healthcare professionals to make informed decisions based on the best available science, as they no longer could be expected to keep up with all the knowledge in the various medical fields. This has resulted in a great many evidence-based guidelines being developed, so that our GP can now refer to a guideline that advises him or her on the treatment for people with diabetes. These guidelines nominally only provide advice for the general population of people with diabetes and thus are not aimed at treating Sarah specifically; in practice, however, they are often followed in specific, discrete cases and thus deserve scrutiny. These guidelines can function as rules to follow in treating patients, so we need to understand how and by whom they are made.

Medical Treatment Guidelines: Objectivity Under Pressure?

This analysis shows that there are associations of doctors, sometimes in state sponsored centers, who develop these guidelines. However, the recommendations they make are not always based solely on scientific evidence; often clinical expertise dictates that a certain outcome be sought and compromises are therefore struck between the competing demands of scientific rigidity and clinical practice. One example is the level of fasting blood glucose that forms the threshold to determine whether someone has diabetes. The number associated with this level is relatively arbitrary and not dictated by science but rather and often the result of copying other guidelines on this topic that are made abroad, such as guidelines in the USA and Europe. It was originally chosen as ‘diabetes indicator’ because it designated the point at which an increase in one specific microvascular complication of diabetes would occur. The choice was then not questioned further. That number is far from innocent however, since it marks the dichotomy between normal and having an illness, such as in this example diabetes.

Where to draw the line is not only important for patients. It is also hugely important for drug companies: the earlier someone is considered diabetic, the bigger the market for their medication. In practice however the fact that there is no scientific base for some of the recommendations in a guideline does not preclude doctors from applying the recommendations as there is no other or better source of advice. Medicine in that sense is also a pragmatic profession, patients need to be treated and their symptoms alleviated. This approach does show however the limitations of ‘scientific evidence’ as a concept. This is an crucial realization:  a lot of the importance that is attached to guidelines in general by parties beyond the healthcare professional, such as governments, health care insurers and disciplinary tribunals, rest on their believing in the scientific validity of the recommendations.

A further example from the diabetes guideline environment further illustrates this point. Another important advice a guideline provides is the preferred order in prescribing medication to patients. Sarah, in our example, could be offered up to 6 different classes of drugs as a potential treatment. The guideline is there to help the GP choose and inform Sarah about the different choices that are available to her. The advice given on medication is not solely geared towards the most effective medication in providing glucose lowering with the least side-effects; as evidence-based medicine would suggest, those choices are also based on cost-effectiveness considerations.

The shift in the preferred treatment of diabetes may thus be based on the cost of a certain drug (whether it is patented or not for example) rather than on any evidence of superior effectiveness. The GP might not be aware of the fact that this ‘evidence-based’ advice is really rather a subjective struggle to achieve acceptable compromises. That compromises have to be made – some very expensive glucose lowering drugs should perhaps not be prescribed because their greater costs does not outweigh the limited added benefits they might have – is not unusual or wrong in a world were money is limited. That these decisions are made by medical professionals is however interesting, as they are themselves interested parties in the outcome of those kind of decisions. The use of centers like the National Institute for Care and Health Excellence in the UK to make those guidelines pushes part of the burden of making these rationing decisions away from politicians. In my eyes this is a deliberate move to depoliticize them and make them ‘unproblematic’ through the use of ‘scientific evidence’ as arbiter.

Measurement of Blood Glucose: Adding Layers of Insecurity

Sarah measures her blood glucose levels using a blood glucose meter. So the question is: does it provide an objective measurement to base her treatment on? Blood glucose meters are used by diabetes patients to measure the level of glucose in their blood and to help them manage their condition and help prevent blood glucose dropping too low or climbing too high. If we try to establish how accurate a blood glucose meter is, we discover however that there are several ISO[3] standards that describe procedures for testing the meters and to set limits on the inaccuracy of the measurement of the level of blood glucose. The limit that has been set for the accuracy of blood glucose meters by ISO-committees is 15%, so if Sarah read a blood glucose level of say 7%, the true value of her blood glucose might be anywhere between 6.5-7.5%. This represents a relatively high tolerance of difference (between the actual value and the measured value of blood glucose) and thus diminishes the usefulness of measuring blood glucose. This also introduces a further element of insecurity in an already complex area of medicine. ISO committees do not deliberate in public – they work behind closed doors -, but their standards provide the basis on which regulators approve these medical devices. Even though these standards are highly technical, they are an essential part of a socio-legal regime that steers the way in which – in this case – medical devices are used by both patients and doctors.

The Nature of the Disease

On a more fundamental level, blood glucose meters are more than technical measurement: they are part of a knowledge regime. They provide a patient with knowledge about his or her glucose, so that the patient can manage his or her condition better, and they provide the medical professional with knowledge about the progression of the disease. But this knowledge brings a feeling of responsibility for the management of the disease for the patient and can give patients a sense of failure if the blood glucose values do not conform to target levels. This knowledge is neither totally objective nor totally value free. In fact it contributes to forming a narrative about ‘good patients’ and ‘bad patients’, about autonomy versus care and about disease control through technology. This then adds to the complexity of treating a patient with diabetes: the patient is not her disease, but rather a whole person with values and preferences, something that in the relationship between Sarah and her GP is vital. This ‘human’ dimension of the treatment of patients with diabetes can however collide and clash with a rigid interpretation of science as the only evidence to be valued in medicine.

The multi-layered complexity of blood glucose meters

Scientific evidence is constructed in a specific cultural environment and not as objective and unproblematic as the pundits of the evidence-based medicine movement would have us believe. As this article attempted to show, in reality the high-minded aims of evidence-based medicine to put science at the forefront of ‘doing medicine’, inevitably get diluted in the practice of creating guidelines and in implementing them. Medicine remains an art as much as a science and socio-legal enquiry brings out the often complex and convoluted relationship between the two. Only trough understanding this relationship can we value the role of medical practice guidelines as law in society where we see that sometimes they work and sometimes they fail. It also allows us to understand more of the context in which they develop and operate and discover that their role as ‘rules’, and  extent to which they can be said to be successful, depends to a great degree on forces outside of the remit of guidelines. Be it other rules that make it harder to achieve optimal results, such as the ISO-standards, or cost-effectiveness constraints imposed by governments that affects their content.  On a fundamental level it seems that guidelines are torn in different directions: they are asked to be general enough to be applied to the great majority of clinical situations but specific enough to provide assurances for individual cases. This tension that is inherent in the process plays out through the elements of scientific evidence, clinical knowledge and bargaining of guideline drafters and finds its way in a text that then tries to embody the holy grail of scientific objectivity.

Within the broad field of socio-legal studies, all these questions, and many more, can be asked about many such ‘simple and boring’ everyday objects like a blood glucose meter that bring out the multi-layered complexity this world exhibits and the often surprising links between law and society.


Image by Uwe Hermann (http://hermann-uwe.de/photoblog/sugar) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

[1] Friso Jansen has been a DPhil student at the Centre for Socio-Legal Studies at the University of Oxford since 2013. His research focusses on the interaction between medical ethics and professional regulation of medical doctors in the UK and The Netherlands. He took his first degree in Law and Public Administration at the University of Groningen in The Netherlands. During his LL.M at the same University he specialised in sociology of law. He pursued his broader interest in rule-making during his MSc in regulation at the London School of Economics.  Before joining the Centre he worked for the University of Groningen and the Applied Science University of Amsterdam as a researcher on the ‘Crisis and Recovery Act’  and lecturer on public law, insolvency law and legal aid ([email protected]).

[2] Controlling blood glucose levels is one of the ways of reducing the risks of complications from diabetes. People with diabetes have trouble with breaking down glucose due to the failure of the pancreas to produce sufficient insulin. A blood glucose meter is a way of measuring your blood glucose levels to enable appropriate control and react if the blood glucose level is too high.

[3] The International Organisation for Standardization, www.iso.org. An independent non-governmental organisation that make international voluntary standards that govern specification for products to reduce barriers in international trade.

A Note From the Director

Dear Reader,

kurkchiyan2

The Centre for Socio-Legal Studies at the University of Oxford is committed to carrying out original, cutting edge research, encouraging lively intellectual debate and providing a supportive environment for inquiry into law as a social phenomenon. The Centre provides a solid platform upon which a dedicated group of gifted graduate students and post-doctoral scholars can initiate and advance their projects on wide variety of socio-legal issues.

Most of the Centre students are encouraged to engage in evidence-driven empirical research, and they respond by identifying complex issue areas and formulating research designs that take them to places as diverse as the EU, Brazil, Colombia, Uganda, Kenya, the USA, Indonesia, China, Russia, Libya and many others.  They bring back to the Centre in-depth knowledge about laws in many different contexts and in a wide variety of circumstances: how it is constructed and interpreted, how it works in practice, how well its institutions perform, and how it shapes peoples’ lives and societal institutions. Their projects tend to be creative, pushing at the boundaries of conventional approaches and challenging established points of view.

The Journal of the Oxford Centre for Socio-Legal Studies is an initiative taken by these students with the goal of reaching out to the wider socio-legal community in their academic activities. By creating a new intellectual space that is open to all, the journal will hopefully enable more extensive intellectual interaction to take place, more experience to be shared, and propositions to be more rigorously examined and weighed. Bearing in mind the global nature of the internet, the hope is that the Journal will be a way to open up the Centre’s intense ‘in-house’ intellectual exchanges of the Centre to all scholars in the socio-legal field, and also to enable to benefit from the possibly more critical perspectives to be encountered when their our work reaches across the world’s cultural and political barriers.

On a practical level, the existence of the JOxCSLS will hopefully make it easier for those taking their first steps towards an academic career to gain the confidence of having published a peer-reviewed article in a sound academic journal. Observing the commitment and enthusiasm of all those involved and the determination of the editorial group to make the Journal as rigorous in its scholarly procedures as it is possible to be, I am confident that this journal will earn respect of the academic community, and will achieve it very soon.

Dr Marina Kurkchiyan

Director of the Centre for Socio-Legal Studies

‘Law in Peace Negotiations’ by Morten Bergsmo and Pablo Kalmanovitz, 2010

By Abby Zeith [1]

Law in Peace Negotiations[2] edited by Morten Bergsmo and Pablo Kalmanovitz, explores the complex relationship between justice, peace, law, truth, politics and conflict during the processes of transition. Irrespective of whether the readers herald from a purely legal or sociological background, the edited volume will be relevant to all scholars and practitioners interested in the role of law in transitional justice processes. The chapters include well-reasoned analyses of how criminal accountability mechanisms can affect peace negotiations (Ch. 3, 4, 10, 11); consideration of the roles that forgiveness, revenge, emotion and allocation of guilt play in the context of transition (Ch. 6, 8, 13); methods of assessing the effectiveness of intervention at the transition stage (Ch. 7); and how to incentivize fighters to lay down arms during peace negotiations (Ch. 5).

The anthology, which is published in open access format by Torkel Opsahl Academic EPublisher, comprises chapters that were first presented at the seminar “Peace and Accountability in Transitions from Armed Conflict” held in Bogotá on 15 and 16 June 2007. The seminar was co-organised by the Vice Presidency of Colombia, the National Commission for Reparation and Reconciliation of Colombia, Universidad del Rosario and the Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO).

In light of the location of the seminar, it is not surprising that the Colombian peace negotiation process, which took place between 2003 and 2005, is used as a reference point throughout the book. The book’s coverage of the peace negotiation features chapters by Colombian nationals with first-hand exposure to many of the on-the-ground complexities of the peace process, and is highly relevant to ongoing peace talks in Colombia. Notwithstanding this focus on the Colombian transition, the book remains accessible to readers unfamiliar with the factual specifics of the conflict that has lasted for more than five decades. Pablo Kalmanovitz’s introductory chapter offers readers a broad overview of the main aspects of the Colombian transitional legal framework, as well as the “political process behind the production of the legal framework that made peace negotiations possible in Colombia and, in particular, the sanction of the Justice and Peace Law in Congress in 2005” (p. 1). At the same time, Kalmanovitz offers readers his astute assessment of the overall process. Maria Paula Saffon and Rodrigo Uprimny also elaborate on the complexities of the Colombian conflict (Ch. 12, pp. 357-364) as a means of illustrating why one must adopt a “cautious and not naïve” (p. 398) approach to transitional justice in the midst of ongoing conflict. They argue that transitional justice “legal standards” do not necessarily have a normative effect that are actually prohibitive of political options for bringing about transition; rather, these processes can become a “rhetorical tool” used to hide impunity (p. 355).

Monika Nalepa’s perceptive juxtaposition of the “credible commitments” problem experienced during the process of demobilizing paramilitaries and guerrilla groups in Colombia, with the “settling of accounts with the former communists” (p. 121) in East Central Europe (ECE) is worth careful consideration. Her empirical analysis and application of the ECE’s “skeletons in the closet” model to the Colombian context is a compelling demonstration of how promises of amnesty may be made credible and fighters incentivized to lay down arms (p. 149). Francisco Gutiérrez (Ch. 6) also looks at the peace process involving the paramilitaries in Colombia and finds that “correct public allocation and distribution of guilt” is a necessary condition to achieving a sustainable peace. Roger Petersen and Sarah Zukerman Daly (Ch. 8) and Antanas Mockus (Ch. 13) offer conceptual analyses of the theory and role of emotions in the context of the Colombian peace process. Mockus’ chapter is of particular interest. He describes the five “constituting conditions” of forgiveness and explains how to secure a successful process of forgiveness for the violation of norms in countries where there is a marked difference between law, morality and culture (i.e. when there is a disparity between legal forgiveness and moral or cultural forgiveness).

The contributions in this book are by no means limited to the Colombian context. Jon Elster cites examples from a wide range of contexts including the Balkans, South Africa, Nuremburg, Argentina and Athens, in his discussion of the synergies and tensions that exist between the aims of justice, truth, and peace in the context of transition (Ch. 2).  After providing the reader with a conceptual explanation of the “idea” and “value” of each of the three aims (pp. 28-29), Elster highlights the various ways in which pursuit of the aims of justice, truth and peace may have either a positive or negative effect on one, or both, of the other aims. An important aspect of Elster’s paper is his proposition that “a durable peace requires distributive and not only transitional justice” (p. 37). He suggests that peace agreements, designed to resolve conflicts which can be attributed to distributive inequalities, should address the root causes of these conflicts. This chapter raises important questions relating to how deep a peace negotiation should delve into the institutional inequality, exploitation and poverty that existed long before the conflict itself, or whether such considerations are better left to those actors working in the spheres of development or politics.

Unlike Elster, who raises instances where “justice and peace have been at odds” (p. 34), Florence Hartmann uses her considerable experience at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY), to dispute the common assumption that “justice is a hindrance to political action, or an impediment to peace” (Ch. 10). Hartman uses the Balkan wars as a framework for discussion because the ICTY was the first international criminal tribunal established prior to a peace agreement. Hartman accepts that justice may, in some cases, “be a cause of instability in the fragile post-war stages” (p.306) and argues that the best way to resolve the dichotomy between the “constraints of law and constraints of peace” is to combine them (p. 306). For Hartmann, “when impunity is no longer a key to peace, then justice will start to operate as a deterrent to crimes and war” (p. 307). This is a creative argument. However, I would be interested in exploring the extent to which Hartmann’s proposition comports with general criminal theories of deterrence in the context of mass atrocities and systemic human rights violations. In the same vein as Hartmann’s chapter, Marieke Wierda writes about the ways in which legal norms can actually assist, rather than hinder, mediators negotiating peace agreements in ongoing conflicts (Ch. 9) and, in doing so, draws upon her breadth of experience with transitional justice programs in Afghanistan and Uganda.

For those readers with a particular interest in the role of international law and “justice” in the transitional context, Claus Kreβ and Leena Grover provide a summary of the legal developments related to the State’s duty under international law to prosecute perpetrators of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes committed during non-international armed conflict. The two authors consider whether this duty leaves any discretion to transitioning societies to invoke alternatives to prosecution, such as community-based justice, blanket or conditional amnesties, or reduced sentences. The chapter by Kreβ and Grover is interesting reading, although it is important to bear in mind that Law in Peace Negotiations was published in 2010: since then, the obligation to prosecute or extradite (aut dedare aut judicare) has received attention within the International Law Commission,[3] the International Court of Justice,[4] and the United Nations General Assembly.[5] Moreover, there have been developments at the UN on the closely-linked fields of “immunity from jurisdiction”[6] and “universal jurisdiction”[7] that should be considered.

David Cohen discusses in detail the strengths and weaknesses of the hybrid tribunals of Sierra Leone, East Timor and Cambodia in light of the two aims which led to their creation, that is, to reduce the expense and length of trials before ad hoc international criminal tribunals and to better address goals related to transitional justice (p. 85). Cohen suggests that these hybrid tribunals are merely a “series of unintended experiments by the international community to find a workable formula for addressing the need for accountability in transitional situations” (p. 86). He suggests that the underlying problem with the tribunals is a failure of “accountability and effective oversight”. To Cohen, effectiveness is dependent on effective leadership, management, recruitment, political will and a clear mandate (p. 120).

Carsten Stahn does a superb job at challenging commonly-held assumptions about the “arrest and surrender” provisions of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. He advances a well-supported argument that this “cooperative regime” plays an integral role in “shaping peace processes and approaches towards justice in situations of transition from conflict to peace” (p. 309).

Moving away from justice in transition, Ana Arjona advances a compelling thesis in her chapter concerning war and the legitimacy of post-war interventions. Using her micro-level data on the Colombian transition, Arjona argues that one must consider the effects in local contexts before it is possible to identify the conditions under which a given intervention will be justified and most effective (p. 200). To Arjona, treating the country as the “unquestioned unit of analysis” ignores the important fact that new and highly varied social orders can emerge at local levels. Arjona does a commendable job of demonstrating why understanding the specific features of, and differences between, local communities is essential to assessing how the consequences of war affect the behaviour of civilians and the organization of local society in a post-conflict period (p. 238).

A welcome addition to the volume would have been a deeper exploration of the six points on the Colombian peace talks agenda decided upon prior to the commencement of peace negotiations in 2012, particularly those points on which a resolution has not yet been reached (i.e reparations for victims, the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration of rebel fighters, and the implementation of the final peace agreement). Nonetheless, Law in Peace Negotiations provides readers with a well-rounded sample of academic scholarship that showcases the manifold ways in which justice, peace, law, truth, politics and forgiveness interact during transition processes.


“Quentin Massys 001” by Quentin Matsys (1456/1466–1530) – The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Quentin_Massys_001.jpg#/media/File:Quentin_Massys_001.jpg

[1] Abby Zeith is an LL.M (International Legal Studies) Candidate  at NYU School of Law and holds a LL.B (Hons) BJourn  from Queensland University of Technology  ([email protected]).

[2] Morten Bergsmo and Pablo Kalmanovitz (eds) Law in Peace Negotiations. Second edition, Oslo: Torkel Opsahl Academic EPublisher and Peace Research Institute, 2010. p. 442. ISBN: 978-82-93081-08-1. (Book can be accessed here: http://www.fichl.org/fileadmin/fichl/documents/FICHL_5_Second_Edition_web.pdf)

[3] See the 2014 Report of the United Nations International Law Commission (Official Records of the General Assembly, Sixty-ninth session, Supplement No. 10 (A/69/10), pp. 139-165.

[4] See Questions relating to the Obligation to Prosecute or Extradite (Belgium v. Senegal), ICJ Reports 2012.

[5] See, e.g., General Assembly resolution 67/1 of 24 September 2012 entitled “Declaration of the high-level meeting of the General Assembly on the rule of law at the national and international levels”, para. 22.

[6] See also the work of the Sixth Committee in the United Nations on the scope and application of the principle of universal jurisdiction at http://www.un.org/en/ga/sixth/68/UnivJur.shtml.

[7] See also the work of the United Nations International Law Commission on the topic on the immunity of State officials from foreign criminal jurisdiction at http://legal.un.org/ilc/guide/4_2.htm.

Creating a Eurozone With(out) Risk: The Economic View of Risk and the Conceptualisation of Excessive Deficits

By Po-Hsiang Ou[1]

Abstract

The concept of risk has an economic origin that associates ‘risk’ with opportunities and potential benefits. This ‘economic view’ considers risk as an inherent part of business decisions. However, dominant literature of risk regulation tends to exclude this economic view and focuses mainly on controlling risk as avoiding unwanted future hazards. This paper, by empirically examining inter-expert risk communication in relation to the promulgation of the Economic and Monetary Union (EMU) fiscal rules, seeks to shed light on the role of economic expertise and the economic view of risk in risk regulation.The fiscal rules laid down in the Maastricht Treaty require Member States to keep their deficits under 3% and debts under 60% of their GDP. These ceilings have defined excessive deficits and conceptualised the ‘risk’ of the EMU. Through archives and interviews, my findings suggest that, for the purpose of risk communication, economic experts have formulated a closed club network, adopted an optimistic culture, and chosen strategically some arbitrary risk regulation standards. In the case of the EMU fiscal rules, economic expertise and the economic view of risk were politicised.


As a former central banker, I cannot help being aware of the risks. But there are also risks, having created such strong expectations if it is not done. And there are opportunities, too, provided we know what we are doing.

– André Szász[2]

I. Introduction

For the former Executive Director of the Dutch Central Bank, ‘risks’ of the Economic and Monetary Union (EMU) coexist with opportunities. While the dominant practice of ‘risk regulation’ focuses on avoiding unwanted future hazard in issues related to the environment or new technologies, the economic view of risk tends to associate ‘risk management’ with potential benefits. In this paper, I argue that this ‘economic view’ of risk is a special risk conception of economic expertise, which plays a unique role in risk regulation and risk communication, but often neglected by empirical studies.

The negotiation of the EMU fiscal rules (also known as the excessive deficit criteria or the Maastricht criteria) is a good example for analysing economic expertise and the economic view of risk in risk regulatory regimes. Through examining the creation of these rules, I seek to demonstrate empirically how an economic view of risk operates during the discussion of risk regulations standards among experts. In other words, this paper is about how economic experts conceptualise and communicate risks in relation to the process of standard-setting.

Risk communication among experts is an under-developed topic in the field of risk regulation. In fact, ‘inter-expert risk communication’ with an economic view of risk depicts a very different picture that goes contrary to conventional wisdom of scientific policymaking. By looking at the promulgation of the EMU fiscal rules, this paper shows that: (1) economic experts work closely with policymakers as a closed ‘club’; (2) economic expertise tends to frame and discuss risks with an ‘optimistic culture’; and (3) the outcome of such inter-expert risk communication process is ‘arbitrary’. Investigating inter-expert risk communication provides an alternative sociological lens to analyse standard-setting in risk regulation. As my findings suggest, ‘risk’ is more than ‘probability x impact’, because in the case of the fiscal rules, economic expertise and the economic view of risk were politicised.

Section 1 will explain why the economic view of risk matters and why inter-expert risk communication in relation to standard-setting is an important focus. Section 2 will introduce my case study, i.e. the making of the fiscal rules. Sections 3 will discuss the three major findings of this paper: the club structure of risk communication network, the optimistic culture of economic experts, and the arbitrary results of risk regulation standards. Section 4 will conclude with some thoughts for future research.

II. The Economic View of Risk

Economic expertise, in particular the ‘economic view’ towards risks, is of critical importance to the study of risk regulation. However, while research has identified the complex and ambiguous nature of ‘risk regulatory concepts’,[3] the influences of various conceptualisations of risk in regulatory practice remain under-studied. Economic expertise and the economic view of risk require further unpacking. In this introductory section, I will first discuss why the economic view of risk matters; then I will explain why I focus empirically on risk communication and the making of risk regulation standards.

A. WHY ECONOMIC EXPERTISE?

Expertise plays a very crucial role in regulatory practice, especially in areas related to science, technology and risk. ‘Risk’ is often described as a potential future hazard that may impact the general public, but needs to be identified and controlled through governmental interference informed by science.[4] Studies in this field focus on either improving the scientific methods for risk assessment[5] or strengthening the public participation in risk decision-making.[6]

While most studies focus on analysing the tension between science and democracy, some argue that this science/democracy dichotomy is missing the point.[7] I argue, on a rather different note, that, in order to decide whether this science/democracy dichotomy is really the fundamental question of risk regulation or not, the functions of expertise in a risk regulatory regime need further unpacking. It is essential to examine the epistemological basis of the expertise and to analyse its influences on practices of risk regulation. Experts, in this sense, are those who contributed to the adoption of certain epistemologies of risk.[8]

To this end, economic expertise is particularly important. There are three reasons for this. Firstly, in a theoretical sense, the Foucauldian perspective of ‘governmentality’ explains how knowledge can be deployed as the ‘art of government’, with economic expertise as a prime example.[9] The ‘discovery’ of the economy, as a new way of thinking about power, has shaped the emergence of an ‘economic government’ as part of the modern constructs of governing behaviours.[10] Secondly, in terms of regulatory practice, economic tools such as cost-benefit analysis (CBA) are widely used in different areas of regulation, in particular policies related to risks.[11] The economic discourse is actually pervasive in public policy debates. Finally, a utilitarian logic is embedded in economic analyses, and its implication in risk evaluation may be conflicting with other ethical values such as egalitarianism and liberalism.[12] Economic expertise seems to approach risks differently when compared with other ‘hard’ sciences or engineering as purely providing scientific evaluations. Most studies in the field of risk regulation, however, focus on issues related to ‘technological risks’,[13] such as pollution, food contamination, health, nuclear power or other issues associated with new forms of technology. It was only until recently, due to series of economic crises in Europe and worldwide, that ‘risk of economic activities’ started to receive more academic attention.[14] Understanding how the economic expertise perceives risks is becoming an essential topic for regulation.

Many historical studies suggest that the language of ‘risk’ was developed for the purpose of economic activities.[15] In the fields of finance and business management, risk is considered as a tool to facilitate individual decisions of economic activities. In this sense, ‘risk management’ often refers to the decision-making strategy of a firm or a person to evaluate risks, reduce costs and maximise profits.[16] Risk is thus embedded in the decision-making process, as ‘side effects’ of business activities to be managed. In fact, in Knight’s often cited work, risk was considered as something by definition manageable.[17] Knight made a clear distinction between ‘uncertainty’, those incalculable factors, and ‘risk’, which is calculable by methods of probability and statistic.[18] Moreover, the OECD also defines risk as ‘the measurable probability that the actual outcome will deviate from the expected outcome’.[19] Risk is ‘measurable’, and its impacts are potential deviations of outcomes, which link to companies’ efficiency.[20] Therefore, through probability and economic analysis, risk can be calculated and rationally managed, in order to reduce side effects and increase profits. In the language of business and finance, risk has a positive connotation.

This economic conceptualisation of risk, seeing risks as side-effects, calculable and potentially profitable, was originally operating predominantly in the private sector, but has entered into the modern practice of regulation.[21] It is therefore of key interest to explore the economic view of risk among experts in the context of risk regulation. This, as I will argue in the following paragraphs, can be analysed through examining the actual activities of risk communication between different groups of experts in relation to the process of standard-setting.

B. RISK COMMUNICATION AND RISK REGULATORY STANDARDS

In the risk regulation literature, risk communication is often defined as ‘an interactive process of exchange of information and opinion among individuals, groups and institutions’ that contains messages related directly or indirectly to risks.[22] Risk communication is thus a process that connects different actors, including scientists, regulators and the public, for the purpose of analysing and regulating risks.

In various models formulated by different studies about risk regulation, the role of risk communication is often a central one.[23] In fact, risk communication has gradually developed into an academic field of study in its own right, influenced firstly by experimental psychology and later on by sociology and cultural studies.[24] Some scholars stress that risk communication should not be perceived as merely transmission of information, and proposed that studies should aim at changing behavioural responses through ‘active’ risk communication or persuasion.[25] Many studies hence confine the study of risk communication to the relationships between the government and the public or those between regulators and regulated; they also concentrate on formulating guidelines or policy suggestions for communicating science and risk policies between the authorities and the lay public.[26] A significant strand of the risk communication literature is thus dominated by studies related to what I called expert-lay risk communication in a narrower sense, providing various strategies about how regulators can best ‘educate/persuade’ people, understand ‘lay perceptions’ and build ‘trust’ among the general public.

However, some scholars have noticed that this current trend of risk communication research has largely neglected the inter-expert dimension and underestimated the interactions ‘internally’ between scientists and regulators.[27] Being the core of risk regulation practice, risk communication should be studied in a broader sense, as ‘a constructive dialogue between all those involved in a particular debate about risk’.[28] This is also in line with the abovementioned classic definition of risk communication. Therefore, looking at risk communication can shed light on not only the discussion and evaluation of risks in policymaking, but also the formation of different ‘expert views’ toward risks. For the purpose of this paper, ‘risk communication’ should be understood specifically as the process of conceptualising risk through interactions between different actors, especially experts, in a risk regulatory regime. Inter-expert risk communication is therefore my unit of analysis to illustrate the key aspects of the economic view of risk in risk regulatory practice.

This empirical focus can be further narrowed down to the making of risk regulation standards as case studies. In a risk regulatory regime, the standard-setting process is where the evaluation of risk and the determination of the acceptability of risk take place. Standard-setting also provides an institutional context for the evaluation of risk, which is crucial to fully understand risk regulation.[29] Therefore, my analysis here will focus on inter-expert risk communication in relation to the process of standard-setting, which leads to my case study on the EMU fiscal rules.

III. EMU Fiscal Rules: A Case Study

The outbreak of the sovereign debt crisis in Greece in late 2009, later on escalated into the Eurozone crisis, has triggered highly scrutinised reviews of budgetary disciplines in the EU. The famous excessive deficit criteria, labelled here as the fiscal rules of the EMU, are standards triggering the Excessive Deficit Procedure laid down in the 1992 Maastricht Treaty and reaffirmed by the Stability and Growth Pact (SGP) and the European Council in 1997.[30] According to the Treaty text and its protocol, ‘Member States shall avoid excessive government deficits’ by following two criteria to maintain the ratio of government deficit to GDP under 3% and the ratio of government debt to GDP under 60%.[31] These two criteria (3% deficit, 60% debt) of the fiscal rules have become the benchmark for Eurozone countries to assess their budget deficits, and the cardinal standards for the EU to manage the risk of macroeconomic instability in the Eurozone.

Reasons for the fiscal rules to be an appropriate case to illustrate the economic view of risk are the following. Firstly, risks of economic instability were deemed as some ‘side effects’ associated with the creation of the EMU — they were by-products of the EMU, not some pre-existing hazards to be regulated. In this sense, managing ‘risks’ was an integrated part of the EMU project and the fiscal rules were tools of risk management, reflecting an economic view toward risks. Second, economics was undoubtedly the major source of expertise in the EMU debate. The analysis of the EMU project and the design of the fiscal rules relied mainly on the method of CBA.[32] The whole process of risk communication was heavily influenced by economists and experts in public finance. Finally, although the EMU debate was based on economic expertise, the scientific argument for the fiscal rules was rather simple.[33] This was already criticised by many academics in the 1990s, before the current Eurozone crisis.[34] In fact, most studies will agree that the EMU was after all a political project.[35] The ‘non-economic’ nature of monetary integration suggests that the fiscal rules have played a crucial role in shaping the complex debate between the economic expertise and politics.

Inextricably linked with the negotiation of the EMU, my analyses will concentrate on risk communication activities related to the fiscal rules that took place mainly from the 1989 Delors Report[36] and the 1992 Maastricht Treaty. Major actors contributed to the debate were the Monetary Committee (MC, replaced by the Economic and Finance Committee after 1999), the DG II (Economic and Financial Affairs) of the Commission, the Ecofin Council, the Intergovernmental Conference (IGC) on the monetary union, the Committee of Governors of Central Banks (CoG, the precursor of the European Central Bank) and several academics as external experts. A rich literature on the history and political economy of the EMU[37] has defined a relatively clear boundary for this case study and provided contexts and background for empirical analyses. My data include around 100 historical documents[38], 14 semi-structured interviews[39] and other publically available reports.[40] These materials were collated and coded in NVivo to discover patterns and themes related to risk communication, which I will discuss in the next section.

IV. The Politicisation of Economic Expertise in Risk Communication

The general theme of my findings is that economic expertise, through mobilising an economic view of risk, is politicised. This politicisation is a ‘process’[41] facilitated by inter-expert risk communication, and there are three dimensions: experts formulated a risk communication network that resembled a club; they shared a risk communication culture of optimism; and the results of risk communication, the EMU fiscal rues, were in fact arbitrary.

A. CLUB

‘Club’ is a key word that constantly emerges in my interviews and the literature. The discussion of the fiscal rules took place mainly in the MC, which was a specialised scientific body to provide expert opinions and to facilitate the process of economic and monetary integration.[42] There were two subgroups in the MC: the full members and the Alternates of members. Each Member State can nominate two full members, one from the national central banks and the other from the ministries of economics and/or finance, and two Alternates. The Commission can also send two members to the meetings. Members of the MC then elected a Chairman to represent the Committee, and a Chairman of the Alternates was also elected to represent the Alternates.

One predominant feature of this institutional setting is that there was a significant overlaps between memberships of the MC with other EU bodies, such as the IGC, the ECOFIN Council and the CoG. According to one official who participated in the discussion, members of the MC and those in the IGC meeting were actually the ‘same group of people’.[43] In fact, many other interviewees have indicated that the MC, the Alternates of the MC, the IGC, the secondary working group of the IGC, the ECOFIN Council, the CoG, and perhaps most importantly, the DG II of the Commission, were all closely related to each other.[44] This observation can be further confirmed by comparing the names recorded in various documents found in the two archives. Clearly, these people have created a tight-knit network at the EU level, and as several interviewees put explicitly, a closed club of European experts.[45]

This ‘clubby’ atmosphere was developed due to the common academic training and worldview that these experts shared,[46] and it has a power to transcend national boundaries, because ‘it’s the same kind of culture you grew up in whatever country you come from.’[47] Some other researchers also described the MC as an ‘Old Boys’ Club’[48], and emphasised the MC’s ability to deal with technical issues with political sensitivity through a highly secretive but intensive setting.[49] Experts participated in the decision-making process of the fiscal rules formulated a well-organised, confined and centralised ‘network’ — their memberships overlapped, and there was less distinction between technical and political bodies.

A club, in terms of social network analysis, can be described as ‘high centrality’ and ‘network closure’.[50] It creates a strong binding mechanism to facilitate coordination and communication.[51] In terms of its impact on risk communication activities, a club network can foster harmonious risk communication. ‘They tend to become friends’, as one expert who worked at a national ministry observed, ‘you don’t want to offend your colleagues. It was not so contentious.’[52] This does not mean that experts never disagree with each other, but it does imply that forging a common position has become less difficult. Moreover, a cohesive network provided an environment for intensive risk communication. The core discussion of the fiscal rules was conducted in a relatively short time period (especially when compared with the case of the 2-degree target), mainly from October 1989 to September 1991, and budgetary discipline was clearly a frequent topic.[53] In addition, a club can create a tendency of iterative risk communication. There was a multi-layered discussion between the IGC, the MC, the Alternates of the MC and the Commission, which constantly required confirmation and specification of technical details through expertise at different levels.[54] This kind of iterative risk communication practice was in fact part of the natural outcome of a harmonious and intensive discussion, in order to facilitate solid consensus. In short, a rapid and highly intensive discussion was guaranteed by the confidential, collegial environment and a sense of trust facilitated, through high centrality and network closure of the ‘euro club’.

One additional feature of this club network worth mentioning here is its stabilising mechanism. As discussed previously, members of the MC and those of the IGC participants were basically the same group of people. This special structure was constructed specifically for the purpose of political negotiation, as one expert explained:

The Maastricht criteria were not developed in the Monetary Committee (MC) proper. The MC existed and, for the purpose of the Treaty, converted itself into what was called the Intergovernmental Conference (IGC). […] They had this dual-role, so it was quite funny sometimes they were talking as the MC and then just change itself as the IGC. […] Because the MC was an advisory committee, whereas the IGC was a negotiating forum. They actually negotiated the Treaty there. I know this is a bit religious but that was a bottom-line: they could not negotiate the Treaty as the MC; they had to change themselves into [the IGC].[55]

The ‘dual-role’ of members of MC/IGC was thus justified by an artificial institutional setting. According to this institutional design of the Maastricht negotiation, the MC was supposed to be solely an advisory body, and the functions of decision-making and technical expertise should have been clearly separated.

The same official continued that the division of labour between the MC and the IGC was quite clear in formality, and the members were actually able to ‘talk about things as economists and then politically’ as well as to adopt different positions in different meetings. However, when asked about whether experts in the MC can really prevent the presentation of national interests, she stressed that the formats of discussion were different, but it was ‘just a way to legitimise the works here’. She said:

In fact, the MC has changed in that period. What it didn’t really manage that well was, it became less of a technical group, and more of a negotiation [one]; and even when the Treaty was over, and all the IGC was over, they were not quite the same MC [as before].[56]

These comments seem to suggest that there is an interactive relationship between the network structure and the process of risk communication. On the one hand, different institutional environments can influence how messages of risk are phrased (experts discussed things technically in the MC but negotiated politically in the IGC); on the other hand, the whole practice of risk communication can also eventually shape the nature of institutional environment (the actual process of Maastricht negotiation has turned the MC into a de facto political body).

The above observation is supported not only by some other officials who have participated in the discussion[57], but also several archival documents about ‘the role of the MC’ before the final rounds of negotiation of the Maastricht Treaty.[58] Therefore, although experts did seek to perform differently when they changed hats, the new institutional arrangement (the IGC/MC divide) became eventually inconsequential to the network structure. In other words, the attempt to separate economic expertise from political negotiation only generated some marginal effects on formality. The nature of the MC became more political, reflecting the reality of risk communication activities, and the experts remained connected closely in the same club. There appears to be a stabilising mechanism that ensures the structure of expert network reflects the actual practice of risk communication.

The economic view of risk considers risk as ‘something to be managed’ through the decision-making process. Risk management (including evaluation and allocation of risks) is integrated with policymaking. With an economic thinking of risk, experts tend not to distinguish economic expertise from policy decisions, and this was reinforced over time, turning into a closed club of expert network. A club network has led to harmonious, intensive and iterative practices of risk communication. This environment further contributed to another feature of the economic view of risk in risk communication — the optimistic culture.

B. OPTIMISM 

The institutional structure of a club network not only influences risk communication behaviours, but also generates a certain ‘culture’. Defined as ‘a particular world of beliefs and practices associated with a specific group’,[59] the culture of economic expertise in terms of risk communication provides a helpful lens to understand the economic view of risk. The discussion of the EMU fiscal rules was particularly ‘optimistic’, and this can be understood in two perspectives: economic experts communicated risk with a ‘make-it-work’ mentality, and they conceptualised risk through a ‘positive framing’.

a. Make-it-work mentality

Experts who participated in the euro project tend to have strong beliefs in European integration in general and the EMU in particular. Some connected this belief in a personal, emotional way, like one economist who joined the team when the CoG was still based in Basel recalled:

Following the Delors Report, I went, with other people, to Basel. We moved to Basel with the feeling that we were starting a long journey toward the creation of a single currency. That was an absolutely exciting feeling. […] It was an extraordinary experience, because a new team of economist was set up, all detached from their own countries to work on a truly European project.[60]

The creation of the EMU was undoubtedly a great milestone of European integration. Almost every expert I interviewed showed their personal excitement about being part of a critical historical moment, and for many senior experts at that time, this belief was further enhanced by the political ideal that European integration was essentially a peace-keeping project:

These were people who remembered more about what we got in the war. I think that was a lot fresher, even for people who were heads of states at the political level, who were thinking more about what we have got in the past. There was a general feeling that we really need to do this (for peace-keeping), which has somehow been forgotten today. They were certainly much more committed.[61]

Therefore these experts, with their personal passion, fresh memories of the war and a sense of mission for the common good of Europe, also demonstrated some strong personalities in risk communication. Many interviewees, as junior officials in the back row, described the members of the MC and the IGC as ‘strong characters’ or ‘very powerful intellectuals’, and the meetings as ‘second education’.[62] Several names, among others Han Tietmeyer, Helmut Kohl, Jean-Claude Trichet, Nigel Wicks and Mario Draghi, were constantly mentioned by many interviewees as ‘big people’, but perhaps the key pusher of the EMU project was still the Commission:

The vision for an EMU was a vision held by our President, Jacques Delors. He was the strongest President that we have had, since then there was nobody like him. He drove the [EMU] as much as at the Commission level as at the Member States level. He was a very good negotiator, and he made sure that we had whatever we needed to carry the project through.[63]

From the President of the Commission to the Alternates of the MC, experts were highly determined to make the EMU project work. This ‘make-it-work’ mentality has turned risk communication into a result-driven process and sped up the discussion, as shown clearly in the reports and minutes of the MC before the eve of the Maastricht Summit:

As indicated at the last meeting, the Chairman considers that the meeting of 30 September has a special nature, in that the Committee has to reach agreement on the key points of the excessive-deficit procedure. A large area of common ground already exists.[64]

It explicitly stressed the importance of having a consensus before the deadline for the Maastricht Treaty. This 2-page note listed all ‘outstanding issues’ in a simplistic way, and proposed possible conclusions based on existing ‘common ground’. Clearly, efficiency was the primary concern here, and the official minutes of the MC also emphasised the critical role of the MC in the whole discussion about the risk and control of excessive deficits, in order to offer the guidance to the IGC.[65] In fact, the discussion was indeed guided with a very strong intension to ‘make things work’:

The Chairman began by re-emphasizing his view that it would be difficult to achieve EMU if an excessive deficits procedure were not defined in watertight terms. There could be no further delay in reaching agreement.[66]

Examples like this can be widely found, explicitly or implicitly, in historical records acquired from the two archives. Experts therefore shared a strong desire of achieving positive results out of risk communication, and this may be based on their personal experience, professional judgement or political belief. This make-it-work mentality has significantly accelerated the process of risk communication. Moreover, it echoes with the closed network discussed above — a club-like structure has cultivated a make-it-work mentality for intensive, iterative and harmonious discussion of risks.

b. Positive framing

The other cultural perspective of the economic view of risk is related to its positive connotation. The economic origin of risk coincides with the development of maritime trade, the discovery of probability theory, and the rise of modern capitalism.[67] In the world of finance, risk is often linked with ‘premium’. Insurance, as ‘a technology of risk’, sees risk as a form of ‘capital’.[68] The action of risk-taking is incentivised with profits, and it is argued that these rational choices of risks are driving our economies forward.[69]

A neutral or even slightly positive stance towards risk can be found in the literature of economics and finance.[70] Experts trained under this educational background therefore tend to view risk as a form of uncertainty with potential positive outcomes. This is also true for economists who were involved in the discussion of the EMU fiscal rules. ‘For me, risk means it can go one way, [and] it can go the other way.’ A senior expert who worked in the CoG expressed her view, and also added that all these talks about financial risk in a negative sense are ‘rather recent’. When further asked about the current discussion of financial risk, she commented: ‘I think it’s a bit like clean air. Nobody can be against sound public finance.’[71] For her, managing risk means achieving good results.

Constructing the control of risk as ensuring positive outcomes, rather than avoiding negative consequences, is a positive framing of risk. This might seem like just the flip side of the same coin. However, different points of departure of risk communication may have an impact on how risk is further discussed, because positive framing denotes a sense of ‘optimism’. This is not at all surprising if we take the above mentioned ‘make-it-work’ mentality into account. In order to realise monetary integration, the hidden assumption in risk communication of the EMU was that economic and monetary stability can be achieved, the only problem was how. The big question behind the discussion of the fiscal rules was not how to avoid danger or problems caused by the EMU (negative framing), but how to maintain sound budgetary policies in the EMU (positive framing).

Therefore, different concepts of risks related to the creation of the EMU were captured through the notion of sound economic and monetary policies. The SGP defines ‘the objective of sound government finances as a means of strengthening the conditions for price stability and for strong sustainable growth conducive to employment creation’.[72] Sound public finance, stability and sustainability have thus become the key concepts that guided the discussion of the EMU and the fiscal rules. Using these terms has signified a positive framing of risk.

For example, in the 1989 Delors Report, it was suggested that in the economic field of the monetary integration, the Community should ‘impose constraints on national budgets to the extent to which this was necessary to prevent imbalances that might threaten monetary stability’.[73] The Commission, in its famous ‘One market, one money’ report backing the EMU project, also reaffirmed the need for fiscal discipline and iterated several times the importance of budgetary sustainability and price stability.[74] Not to mention in the MC, the two criteria of the fiscal rules were named as the ‘unsustainability criterion’ (on debt ratio) and the ‘economic instability criterion’ (on deficit ratio):

The [Monetary] Committee considered a spectrum ranging from imminent default through unsustainable snowballing of debt, and various ways in which monetary stability might be endangered, to inappropriate policy mixes and overheating. They concluded that two types of danger are relevant in this context:
a) deficits producing unsustainable stocks of public debt […];
b) deficits of a size that could endanger monetary stability […].[75]

The above quote from the MC report is a perfect example to demonstrate what ‘positive framing’ of risk actually means. It does not mean that experts did not use any negative term during the discussion. Quite the contrary, as shown in the text above, communications between experts about the EMU and the need of fiscal rules were indeed about problems and caveats. However, these negative issues are debated in a wider context of ensuring sustainability, stability and sound money policy. A positive framing of risk set the agenda of the EMU debate in an optimistic direction, which echoes the make-it-work mentality of the experts. Hence, potential danger of excessive deficits and methods to prevent them were always understood in relation to ensuring sustainability and stability in the EMU. Numerous examples can be extracted from the reports and minutes of the MC, the Commission and the CoG, using terms such as ‘instability’, ‘unsustainability’, ‘asymmetry’ and ‘imbalance’ to evaluate fiscal rules. The discussion of excessive deficits was embedded within the maximisation of the opportunities of the EMU, as one senior expert who witnessed the debate acutely pointed out:

[We] tended to think in positive terms, but we were talking about imbalance, we were talking about danger, […] we probably use the term risk, but as we always say, any risk entails an opportunity. We took a calculated risk, and we believed that the common currency would create a dynamic, that would lead Europe [forward]. That was really the view. So risk yes, but opportunity.[76]

C. ARBITRARINESS 

The optimistic culture among experts, understood as the make-it-work mentality and the positive-framing of risk, together with the closed club network have led to some curious consequences. The EMU fiscal rules were based on economic expertise, yet the economic rationale behind the rules is often criticised.[77] The outcomes of risk communication are ‘arbitrary’ because they were not strictly scientific and created some regulatory blind spots. However, this arbitrariness was not ‘random’ — it was actually based on ‘strategic’ choices of economic experts in the process of risk communication.

The ‘arbitrariness’ of the fiscal rules need to be understood firstly as results of narrowly focused discussion, as an economist of the CoG commented: ‘the risk at the time, as it was perceived, was focusing on public finance, per se[78]. Through risk communication, wider concepts of macroeconomic risks in the EMU were confined to sound public finances, or more specifically, avoiding excessive deficits. Many interviewees reflected critically that focusing on budgetary deficits was eventually ‘too narrow’ and causing many regulatory ‘blind spots’, such as neglecting the problems of competitiveness in peripheral countries and the contagion effect from the private sector.[79] Several studies have suggested that the overly narrowed fiscal rules and these blind spots had led to the Eurozone crisis.[80]

This practice of narrowing down ‘risks’ to issues of public finance is in fact rooted in earlier attempts of European monetary integration. The emphasis of coordinating economic and budgetary policies is historically rooted in the debate between the monetarist and the economist schools of European monetary integration.[81] The ‘monetarists’, supported mainly by France, saw a monetary union as a key driving force for European integration, whereas the ‘economists’, influenced by Germany, emphasised the importance in converging economic performances before establishing a monetary union.[82] This monetarist-economist debate defined the basic language of EMU discussion to focus on the area of public finance. Against the background of European integration and the make-it-work mentality, concepts of coordinating fiscal policies and converging different economic performances were thus developed as compromises of this historical debate.

Coordination and convergence were the two key concepts mobilised to narrow down the scope of risk discussion. ‘Greater convergence of economic performance is needed’, the Delors Report has stated clearly, that a monetary union will ‘necessitate a more effective coordination of policy between separate national authorities’.[83] Moreover, an annex of the Delors Report had explicitly set fiscal coordination as the central method of achieving a sustainable monetary union.[84] In fact, after analysing the archival data and comparing the code sets between stability/sustainability and coordination/convergence, the results shows a strong relationship between these two sets of concepts. Coordination and convergence were therefore considered as key approaches to maintain sound money policy, stability and sustainability. An overzealous concentration on ‘convergence’ has drifted away from scientific risk analysis and caused serious biases, as a senior official in the Commission recalled the rationale behind the EMU fiscal rules discussion:

I will say that it doesn’t matter what you converge to as long as you converge to it. That was the point. The point was not the number; the point was the convergence.[85]

In fact, the emphasis on convergence/coordination in the EMU was about converging to a number, not about converging to the best number (which, as many economists will argue, may not exist), nor about how to converge. A comment from another expert worked in the Commission at the time further support this argument:

There was a focus on nominal convergence criteria rather than real convergence criteria, because it was felt that nominal will be sufficient rather than asking for real convergence…. [One] could not focus too much on those real issues.[86]

Through the language of convergence, macroeconomic risks of the Eurozone were radically narrowed down to the risk of excessive deficits, led to the creation of the fiscal rules. This process has left many risks unrecognised: ‘we were aware of some risks, but we were not fully aware of the others,’ and created several ‘analytical blind spots.’[87]

Although this paper does not intend to discuss the cause of Eurozone crisis, pointing out the source of these blind spots, due to overly narrowed discussion, help explain why so many experts viewed the EMU fiscal rules critically with hindsight:

The 60% [rule] was quite simple and very unscientific, because that was the average [debt level of Member States] at that time. Yes, there was a debate like should it be higher or lower, […] but we couldn’t agree on anything else basically.[88]

The 60% debt criterion was actually the initial proposal of the Commission early in the debate.[89] Therefore, interestingly, it has become simultaneously the initial position for discussion and the bottom line of compromise. This figure might not be particularly reasonable, but there was no other more reasonable alternative either. In fact, the 60% debt level of the Community was also part of the economic rationale for the 3% deficit level, as one expert who took part in the MC debate explained, again in a rather critical tone:

There is no optimal level of public debt in theory. There is no optimal level of deficit either. So what happened was at some meetings in the 90s, they did the kind of Sargent-Wallace calculation: growth in Europe, study says, was about 3%; stable inflation was defined as 2%; that makes long-term interest rate a number of 5[%]; the average debt ratio was 60[%] — they just reverse-engineered through the calculation to get 3[%]. So there was nothing economic about 3 and 60. […] It wasn’t that reasonable. It was not scientific. It was arithmetic. It came from the present monetary arithmetic, unfortunately.[90]

Is ‘arithmetic’ arbitrary? According to the minutes of the MC, many experts had shown their concern about the arbitrariness of the rules; yet interestingly, while some found the figures arbitrary and unacceptable, others favoured these figures because they were arbitrary.[91] In other words, it was not that experts did not see the arbitrariness of the rules. On the contrary, they tried to use such arbitrariness in a ‘strategic’ manner. One example is the debate about having ‘simple’ rules, as the minutes of the MC noted:

The majority of delegates in favour of the benchmark approach supported simple indicators as these would be most easily understood by politicians and the general public, and were in any case only providing an initial screening. Others argued that this screening needed to be as accurate as possible to avoid both wasting time and political embarrassment, and hence if complexity was needed, then so be it.[92]

Note that this discussion took place in the Alternates’ meeting, which was supposed to be purely ‘technical’. However, it seems quite clear that their discussion about whether the fiscal rules should be ‘simple’ or not had gone beyond the economic rationale and become quite ‘political’. Similar discussions actually appeared several times before and after this particular meeting.[93]

In the end, simple rules prevailed. The strategic choice of arbitrary rules was part of the political compromise. Economic expertise, in this sense, should perhaps be more than just providing economic analyses, as an expert commented:

Even though we were fully aware that this was arbitrary [we still need a rule]. I mean the question is that human being, being as what they are, and the politicians being what they are… perhaps technocrats conspired to create a rule, however arbitrary, but that would tie the hands of politicians. […] The arbitrary rule might be preferable than no rule.[94]

The role of economic expertise in the EMU fiscal rules debate was therefore much more complex than conducting scientific assessments and giving professional advices. They are in a special position to create arbitrary rules that reflect political judgements. Many experts have acknowledged the arbitrariness of the fiscal rules, but they also, somewhat paradoxically, considered the rules ‘reasonable’.[95] The fiscal rules may be arbitrary (due to its overly narrowed focus and thin arithmetic foundation), but they were chosen strategically by experts (based on technical consensus reflecting political compromises).

V. Conclusion: The Art of Arbitrariness

By examining the expert debate about the fiscal rules, my case study demonstrates how economic expertise and the economic view of risk operate in inter-expert risk communication. The risk communication network can be described as a club, with economic experts integrated in the wider policymaking circle. Economic experts further adopted an optimistic culture, framing risks in a positive way and discussing risks with a make-it-work mentality. The results of inter-expert risk communication were therefore arbitrary, but such arbitrariness should be understood as part of the strategic choice of economic expertise. The club network, the optimistic culture and the strategic arbitrary outcomes are three different but interconnected aspects of risk communication among economic experts.

While mobilising economic expertise is the ‘art of government’, communicating risks with an ‘economic’ conception can be understood as the ‘art of arbitrariness’. ‘Risk’ in an economic view may be uncertain, but they are considered calculable and as part of the process toward positive results. Economic experts, at least in the case of the EMU negotiation, provide technical inputs that are mixed with political judgements. However, it is unfair to say that these experts were not ‘professional’ simply because of the fiscal rules were politicised:

It was not that we did not see risks or debate risks. It was mainly I think, on certain point, we misjudged. It was an error in judgement when it came to certain risks of the risk assessment. […] It was definitely not that everybody wanted the euro and you just go for it. That’s definitely not the case.[96]

Judgements of economic experts were shaped by the club network and the optimistic culture, but experts still sought to discuss the inevitable arbitrary rules strategically. Against the background of the Eurozone crisis, it is of particular interest to ask how we can avoid ‘misjudgements’ again. My paper may not provide a direct policy suggestion, but the important questions that emerge from it are: who should make judgements and how judgements should be made. These are questions of institutional design: Is the current ‘club’ structure best for mobilising economic expertise in risk regulation? Should the ‘optimistic culture’ of economic view be adjusted? What can be done to improve the ‘strategic’ element of the arbitrary risk regulation standards? These issues require further studies of the role of economic expertise in risk regulation and comparing the ‘economic view’ of risk to other conceptualisations of risk in those conventional risk regulatory regimes.


Image ‘Historical Archives of the European Commission’  by Po-Hsiang Ou.

[1] DPhil candidate, Centre for Socio-Legal Studies, University of Oxford. An earlier draft of this paper was presented in the ECPR Graduate Student Conference in Innsbruck, July 2014. I am very grateful for the feedback received at the conference and the helpful comments from the reviewers. I also thank the Historical Archives of the European Central Bank and the Historical Archives of the European Commission for assisting my data collection ([email protected]).

[2] Andre Szasz, The Road to European Monetary Union (Palgrave Macmillan 1999) xiii.

[3] Elizabeth Fisher, ‘Risk Regulatory Concepts and the Law’, in OECD (ed) Risk and Regulatory Policy: Improving the Governance of Risk (OECD 2010) 45.

[4] Christopher Hood, Henry Rothstein and Robert Baldwin, The Government of Risk: Understanding Risk Regulation Regimes (Oxford University Press 2001).

[5] John Graham, ‘Making Sense of Risk’ (2000) 20 Risk Analysis 302.

[6] Robert Kennedy, ‘Risk, Democracy and the Environment’ (2000) 20 Risk Analysis 306.

[7] Elizabeth Fisher, Risk Regulation and Administrative Constitutionalism (Hart Publishing 2007) 11–17.

[8] My definition of ‘experts’ here is therefore a broader one: it includes not only ‘technical experts’, such as scientists, economists and other academics, but also those ‘specialised policymakers’, who have a certain degree of specific expertise and communicate actively with technical experts.

[9] Mitchell Dean, Governmentality: Power and Rule in Modern Society (SAGE Publications 1999) 16-18.

[10] ibid 19; Graham Burchell, Colin Gordon and Peter Miller, The Foucault Effect: Studies in Governmentality (1 edition, University Of Chicago Press 1991) 14–27.

[11] Richard A Posner, Catastrophe: Risk and Response (OUP 2004).

[12] William D Schulze and Allen V Kneese, ‘Risk in Benefit-Cost Analysis’ (1981) 1 Risk Analysis 81.

[13] For example: Bettina Lange, Implementing EU Pollution Control: Law and Integration (CUP 2008); Fisher (n 7); Alberto Alemanno, Trade in Food: Regulatory and Judicial Approaches to Food Risks in the EC and the WTO (Cameron May 2007); Scott Lash, Bronislaw Szerszynski and Brian Wynne (eds), Risk, Environment and Modernity: Towards a New Ecology (SAGE 1996).Fisher (n 6). The body of literature in risk regulation is massive and this is clearly not an exhaustive list. However, it should be noted that the field of ‘risk regulation’ also covers other issues that are not strictly linked to the use of ‘new’ technologies, such as natural disasters, lifestyle risks and road safety.

[14] Bettina Lange and Dania Thomas (eds), From Economy to Society? Perspectives on Transnational Risk Regulation (Emerald 2013).

[15] Peter L Bernstein, Against the Gods: The Remarkable Story of Risk (New Ed, John Wiley & Sons 1998); Vincent T Covello and Jeryl Mumpower, ‘Risk Analysis and Risk Management: An Historical Perspective’ (1985) 5 Risk Analysis 103.

[16] Aswath Damodaran, Strategic Risk Taking: A Framework for Risk Management (Wharton School Pub 2008) ch 1.

[17] Frank H Knight, Risk, Uncertainty, and Profit (Houghton Mifflin Company 1921).

[18] ibid.

[19] OECD, Public-Private Partnerships: In Pursuit of Risk Sharing and Value for Money (OECD 2008) 48.

[20] ibid 48–49.

[21] This is sometimes presented as ‘risk-based regulation’ or ‘new public risk management’: Julia Black, ‘The Emergence of Risk-Based Regulation and the New Public Management in the United Kingdom’ (2005) 2005 Public Law 512; Michael Power, Organized Uncertainty: Designing a World of Risk Management (OUP 2007).

[22] National Research Council, Improving Risk Communication (National Academies Press 1989) 21.

[23] For example: Renn (n 5); Alemanno (n 12); Gregory Bounds, ‘Challenges to Designing Regulatory Policy Framework to Manage Risks’, in OECD (ed), Risk and Regulatory Policy: Improving the Governance of Risk (OECD 2010) 15.

[24] Ragnar E Lofstedt, ‘Risk Communication and Management in the 21st Century’ (2004) 7 International Public Management Journal 335.

[25] Carlo C Jaeger and others, Risk, Uncertainty and Rational Action (Routledge 2001) 127–129.

[26] For example: Renn (n 23) 242; Paul Slovic, ‘Perceived Risk, Trust, and Democracy’ (1993) 13 Risk Analysis 675; W Leiss, ‘Three Phases in the Evolution of Risk Communication Practice’ [1996] The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 85; B Fischhoff, ‘Risk Perception and Communication Unplugged: Twenty Years of Process’ (1995) 15 Risk Analysis 137; Ragnar EE Lofstedt, Risk Management in Post-Trust Societies (Earthscan 2012).

[27] Renn (n 23) 202.

[28] Ragnar E Lofstedt, ‘How Can We Make Food Risk Communication Better: Where Are We and Where Are We Going?’ (2006) 9 Journal of Risk Research 869, 871.

[29] Fisher (n 3); Bronwen Morgan and Karen Yeung, An Introduction to Law and Regulation: Text and Materials (Cambridge University Press 2007).

[30] European Council, ‘Resolutions of the European Council on the Stability and Growth Pact’, Amsterdam, 16-17 June 1997.

[31] Art 126 Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU, ex Art 104 TEC) and the Protocol (No 12) on the Excessive Deficit Procedure.

[32] Commission, ‘One market, one money: An evaluation of the potential benefits and costs of forming an economic and monetary union’, European Economy No 44, Brussels, October 1990; Committee for the Study of Economic and Monetary Union (ed), Collections of papers submitted to the Committee for the Study of Economic and Monetary Union (European Communities 1989).

[33] 60% public debt was the average figure of the European Community in 1990. In order to at least maintain such debt ratio, under the condition of 2% inflation rate and the assumption of 3% annual growth in GDP, the tolerable deficit is then 3% of GDP. Jan Viebig, Der Vertrag von Maastricht: Die Positionen Deutschlands Und Frankreichs Zur Europäischen Wirtschafts- Und Währungsunion (Schäffer-Poeschel 1999) 355–364; Daniel Gros and Niels Thygesen, European Monetary Integration: From the European Monetary System to Economic and Monetary Union (2nd edn, Longman 1998) 340.

[34] Jose Vinals, ‘Building a Monetary Union in Europe: Is It Worthwhile, Where Do We Stand, and Where Are We Going?’ (Centre for Economic Policy Research 1994) CEPR Occasional Paper No. 15; Barry J Eichengreen, Should the Maastricht Treaty Be Saved? (Princeton Univ Intl Economics 1992); David Begg and others, The Making of Monetary Union: Monitoring European Integration (CEPR 1991).

[35] Two books written by former central bankers who participated in the EMU project are particular insightful: Andre Szasz, The Road to European Monetary Union (Palgrave Macmillan 1999); Tommaso Padoa-Schioppa, The Road to Monetary Union in Europe: The Emperor, the Kings, and the Genies (2nd Revised edition, OUP Oxford 2000); for a much more radical critique from a former Eurocrat: Bernard Connolly, The Rotten Heart of Europe (Faber & Faber 2013).

[36] Committee for the Study of Economic and Monetary Union, ‘Report on economic and monetary union in the European Community’ (Delors Report, European Communities 1989).

[37] On top of the sources listed in footnote 35, see also Harold James, Making the European Monetary Union (Belknap Press 2012); David Marsh, The Euro: The Battle for the New Global Currency (Yale University Press 2011); Kenneth Dyson and Kevin Featherstone, The Road to Maastricht: Negotiating Economic and Monetary Union (Oxford University Press 1999).

[38] The archival data came mainly from two sources: the Historical Archives of the Commission and the European Central Bank Historical Archives. It is however difficult to count the exact number of documents acquired because there are many repeated copies of draft reports and minutes, as well as reports with multiple annexes.

[39] For the purpose of anonymity interviews are cited in this paper as ‘fake initials’.

[40] Such as the Delors Report, the Commission communications and reports made by the ECB.

[41] Pieter De Wilde, ‘No Polity for Old Politics? A Framework for Analyzing the Politicization of European Integration’ (2011) 33 Journal of European Integration 559.

[42] Age FP Bakker, The Liberalization of Capital Movements in Europe: The Monetary Committee and Financial Integration, 1958-1994 (1st edn, Springer 1995) ch 4. This is also supported by many interviews: interviews with NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013), NS (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013) and PQ (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013).

[43] Interview with JC (Brussels, 16 Apr 2013).

[44] Interviews with NS (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013), NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013), CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 June 2013), HG (Copenhagen, 27 August 2013) and HR (Brussels, 4 April 2014).

[45] Interviews with JC (Brussels 16 Apr 2013), CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 Jun 2013) and HG (Copenhagen, 27 Aug 2013).

[46] As one senior official commented, experts at this European level share not merely a common background in economics, but a highly similar ‘German-style’ economic thinking. Interview with HR (Brussels, 4 April 2014).

[47] Interview with HG (Copenhagen, 27 Aug 2013).

[48] Amy Verdun, ‘Governing by Committee: The Case of Monetary Policy’ (EU Center of California Working Paper 1999).

[49] ibid; Bakker (n 42).

[50] Stephen P Borgatti and others, ‘Network Analysis in the Social Sciences’ (2009) 323 Science 892; Ronald S Burt, ‘The Network Structure of Social Capital’ (2000) 22 Research in Organizational Behavior 345.

[51] Borgatti and others (n 50).

[52] Interview with CS (Louvain-la-Neuve 27 Jun 2013).

[53] During this period of less than two years, the MC has organised 28 meetings, and 12 meeting were noted with high relevance to the discussion of the fiscal rules. This number however does not include meetings with lower relevance, or those meetings of the Alternates and the IGC working groups.

[54] For example, out of 33 documents identified as highly relevant to the discussion of the fiscal rules, 18 of them explicitly required certain technical issues to be confirmed or specified in other bodies.

[55] Interview with JC (Brussels, 16 Apr 2013).

[56] ibid.

[57] Interviews with NM (Brussels, 16 Apr 2013) and KK (Brussels, 27 Jun 2013).

[58] For example: Commission, ‘Short Minutes of Monetary Committee 13 March 1991’ (II/01624 of 15 March 1991), section 4; Monetary Committee, ‘Priorities for the Monetary Committee in the Post-Maastricht Era’ (MC/II/19/92-EN of 17 January 1992).

[59] Susan S Silbey, ‘Legal Culture and Cultures of Legality’ in John R Hall, Laura Grindstaff and Ming-Cheng Lo (eds), Handbook of Cultural Sociology (Routledge 2010) 470.

[60] Interview with PQ (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013).

[61] Interview with NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[62] Interviews with JC (Brussels, 16 April 2013) and NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[63] Interview with NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[64] Monetary Committee, Secretariat, ‘Outstanding issues on the excessive-deficit procedure’, Brussels, 20 September 1991 (emphasis added).

[65] Monetary Committee, Secretariat, ‘Draft minutes of the 383th meeting’, Brussels, 3 September 1991 (MC/II/392/91-EN).

[66] Commission, ‘Short minutes of Monetary Committee, 30 September 1991’, Brussels, 4 October 1991 (II/05112), 3.

[67] Bernstein (n 15); Covello and Mumpower (n 15).

[68] Burchell, Gordon and Miller (n 10) 197.

[69] Bernstein (n 15).

[70] Damodaran (n 16); Knight (n 17).

[71] Interview with NS (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013).

[72] Council Regulation (EC) No 1467/97, Preamble para (2).

[73] Delors Report, para 59.

[74] Commission (n 32).

[75] MC, ‘Criteria for Excessive Deficits (1)’, Brussels, 25 February 1991, 3-4.

[76] Interview with CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 June 2013).

[77] Willem Buiter and others, ‘Excessive Deficits: Sense and Nonsense in the Treaty of Maastricht’ [1993] Economic Policy 58.

[78] Interview with NS (Frankfurt, 8 Apr 2013).

[79] Interviews with NW (Oxford, 16 January 2013), NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013), CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 June 2013), LQ (Brussels, 27 Jun 2013) and KK (Brussels, 27 June 2013)

[80] David Marsh, Europe’s Deadlock: How the Euro Crisis Could Be Solved – and Why It Won’t Happen (Yale University Press 2013); Matthew Lynn, Bust: Greece, the Euro and the Sovereign Debt Crisis (1 edition, Bloomberg Press 2010).

[81] Ivo Maes, ‘On the Origins of the Franco-German EMU Controversies’ (NBB 2002) National Bank of Belgium Working Paper 34.

[82] ibid.

[83] Delors Report, paras 10-11.

[84] Alexandre Lamfalussy, ‘Macro-coordination of fiscal policies in an economic and monetary union in Europe’ in Delors Report, Collection of papers (January 1989) 91.

[85] Interview with JC (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[86] Interview with NM (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[87] Interview with LQ (Brussels, 27 June 2013).

[88] Interview with HG (Copenhagen, 27 August 2013).

[89] Commission, ‘Criteria for excessive deficit: applications of real world examples’, Brussels, 7 February 1991 (II/56/91-EN).

[90] Interview with JC (Brussels, 16 April 2013).

[91] Commission, ‘Monetary Committee Meeting of 22 January’, Brussels, 24 January 1990; MC, ‘Draft minutes of the 380th meeting of the Monetary Committee’, Brussels, 18 February 1991; MC, ‘Outstanding issues of the excessive-deficit procedure’, Brussels, 20 September 1991.

[92] Nigel Jenkinson, ‘Criteria for Excessive Public Sector Deficits in Stag Three of EMU (Monetary Committee Alternates Meeting 15th November)’, 20 November 1990, 3 (emphasis added).

[93] Commission, ‘Monetary Committee Meeting of 22 January’, 24 January 1990; MC, ‘Draft minutes of the 380th meeting of the Monetary Committee’, Brussels, 18 February 1991; MC, ‘Outstanding issues of the excessive-deficit procedure’, Brussels, 20 September 1991.

[94] Interview with CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 June 2013).

[95] Interviews with MT (Copenhagen, 27 August 2013), HG (Copenhagen, 27 August 2013) NS (Frankfurt, 8 April 2013), CS (Louvain-la-Neuve, 27 June 2013) and HR (Brussels, 4 April 2014).

[96] Interview with HG (Copenhagen, 27 August 2013).

Re-energising Taiwan’s LGBT Rights Movement: The Impact of Obergefell v Hodges

By M. Bob Kao[1]

On June 24, 2015, the United States Supreme Court released its long-anticipated Obergefell v Hodges opinion.[2] The majority opinion,[3] written by Justice Anthony Kennedy, answered in the affirmative the following questions: ‘whether the Fourteenth Amendment requires a State to license a marriage between two people of the same sex’ and ‘whether the Fourteenth Amendment requires a State to recognise a same-sex marriage licensed and performed in a State which does grant that right’.[4] Justice Kennedy concluded that ‘the right to marry is a fundamental right inherent in the liberty of the person, and under the Due Process and Equal Protection Clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment couples of the same-sex may not be deprived of that right and that liberty.’[5] Marriage equality was finally achieved in the United States.

The victory in Obergefell came after decades of advocacy for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) rights in the United States that was often marred by setbacks, including Baker v Nelson,[6] Bowers v Hardwick, [7] and the backlash against the Hawaiian Supreme Court case Baehr v Lewin[8] that led to the passage of the Defense of Marriage Act[9] and Amendment 2 to the Hawaiian State Constitution, both of which defined marriage as between a man and a woman. [10] Of course, there were also incremental judicial wins, most notably Romer v Evans,[11] Lawrence v Texas,[12] and United States v Windsor,[13] all of which were authored by Justice Kennedy

From an international perspective, the United States is hardly a trailblazer on the issue of same-sex marriage.[14] Still, Obergefell has mobilised advocates in many countries –particularly in East Asia where no countries allow same-sex marriage – that have traditionally looked to legal developments in the United States as a model. Advocates in Japan cited Obergefell when requesting the Japan Federation of Bar Associations to investigate whether the lack of marriage equality is a violation of human rights.[15] In South Korea, the first lawsuit challenging marriage laws was filed in 2014 but received renewed attention after Obergefell.[16] Dr York Chow Yat-Ngok of the Equal Opportunities Commission in Hong Kong also called for discussions on the possibility of legalising same-sex marriage in response to the United States Supreme Court decision.[17]

Taiwan deserves particular attention due to its relatively strong protection of LGBTQ rights in the region.[18] Kenji Yoshino, Chief Justice Earl Warren Professor of Constitutional Law at New York University School of Law, has asserted that ‘Taiwan seems likely to become the first East Asian nation to legalise same-sex marriage.’[19] Indeed, the fight for marriage equality in Taiwan has made headways on the executive, legislative, and judicial fronts[20] and culminated in the December 2014 deliberation of the Marriage Equality Bill – which would have made the language on marriage in the civil code gender-neutral – in the Legislative Yuan, the legislative branch of the Taiwanese government, for the first time in history.[21] Unsurprisingly, the bill encountered familiar arguments such as same-sex marriage leading to bestiality and lack of procreation;[22] the Ministry of Justice also opposed the bill, using four nonsensical reasons to buttress its position.[23]

Oppsition to same-sex marriage is also strong in the judicial branch. Less than two weeks before Obergefell, during the confirmation hearings to replace four Justices on the Constitutional Court – the only court in Taiwan that has the power to interpret the constitution – the nominees unanimously declined to support marriage equality.[24] The hope for achieving marriage equality, in the short-term, was effectively dead both legislatively and judicially.

With Obergefell, however, Taiwanese advocates have been reenergised. The Taiwan Alliance to Promote Civil Partnership Rights, in the wake of the ruling, immediately called for further action in Taiwan to realise the goal.[25] The City Government of Taipei, Taiwan’s capital, also cited the US decision when announcing that it would seek an interpretation by the Constitutional Court on the constitutionality of the civil code provision mandating that marriage is between a man and a woman.[26]

The United States, rightly or wrongly, sets the benchmark for legal progress in Taiwan and other East Asian countries. Using the legal victory in the United States to build momentum in the respective social movements in each country is not a bad idea, even if the experience of other countries that achieved marriage equality earlier may be able to offer better guidance. Indeed, the fact that the struggle has been drawn out and faced such vehement opposition in the United States may mean that the American experience can offer unique lessons.

It is important to note that the salient lesson of Obergefell is neither the result nor the legal arguments that led to marriage equality. Rather, it is the blood and sweat that paved the way that should be emulated. Of course, as the legal systems and legal cultures are different, advocates in the East Asian countries cannot transplant the entire strategy utilised in the United States. However, the sophistication of the strategising is worthy of due consideration.

Advocates in East Asia can learn from the American experience how the determination of venues, causes of action, and timing were made, how sympathetic and determined plaintiffs were identified, and how non-legal strategies, including rallies, publicity, media outreach, community outreach, and celebrity support, were coordinated. In addition, the way proponents researched judicial nominees’ backgrounds and studied the judicial history of judges and Justices to target legal arguments based on their judicial propensities are approaches worth borrowing. Finally, the way advocates learned to speak to and persuade opponents and doubters using non-legal language offers the most important lesson. In the end, a legal victory alone is not enough, as marriage equality, in the United States and elsewhere, is just a small win on the road toward true equality for LGBTQ individuals on a personal and societal level.

The practice of law, broadly defined to include the raising of legal consciousness of the people through cause lawyering, is what needs to be emulated. The way that the movement mobilised the people, captured their imaginations, and won over their hearts and minds are the lessons that should be gleaned from Obergefell. The impact of Obergefell undoubtedly spreads far beyond the confines of the United States, and the decision can be instrumental in helping to propel the movements in other countries that have not legalised same-sex marriage. Its importance, however, lies not in its jurisprudence, but in the history and experiences it embodies.


Image by Ludovic Bertron from New York City, Usa [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

[1] M. Bob Kao is a PhD candidate at Queen Mary University of London. He received his LLM from University College London, JD from University of California, Berkeley School of Law, and MA and BA from Wesleyan University. He was a public interest attorney in California and is a member of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators. The author would like to thank Dylan Nicole de Kervor for her comments ([email protected]).

[2] 576 US ___ (2015).

[3] Justice Kennedy was joined by Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Justice Stephen Breyer, Justice Sonia Sotomayor, and Justice Elena Kagan. Each of the remaining Justices wrote separate dissenting opinions.

[4] Obergefell (n 2)

[5] ibid.

[6] 409 US 810 (1972) (ruling that a Minnesota state law restricting marriage to persons of the opposite sex did not violate the US Constitution). For other cases in the 1970s that denied marriage for same-sex couples, see Jones v Hallahan, 501 SW 2d 588 (Ky 1973); Singer v Hara, 522 P2 1187 (Wash Ct App 1974).

[7] 478 US 186 (1986) (holding that a Georgia state law criminalising homosexual behavior did not violate the due process clause).

[8] 852 P2d 44 (Hawaii 1993) (ruling that the state ban against same-sex marriage must meet strict scrutiny and remanding the case to the Intermediate Court of Appeals). See Baehr v Miike, 1996 WL 694235 (Hawai`i Circ Ct 1996) (ruling that the ban against same-sex marriage in Hawaii did not meet strict scrutiny and ordering marriage licenses to be issued to same-sex couples).

[9] Pub L 104–199.

[10] Hawaii Constitutional Amendment 2 of 1998.

[11] 517 US 620 (1996) (holding that an amendment to the Colorado Constitution that barred the enactment of anti-discrimination laws based on sexual orientation was unconstitutional).

[12] 539 US 558 (2003) (overruling Bowers v Hardwick). 

[13] 570 US 12 (2013) (striking down Section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act which defined marriage as between a man and a woman for federal purposes as it violated the due process clause and equal protection clause). Hollingsworth v Perry, 570 US 183 (2013), decided on the same day as Windsor, began with much attention due to the relationship between the plaintiffs’ lead counsels Ted Olson and David Boies, opposing counsels in Bush v Gore, 531 US 98 (2000), and the criticism by seasoned advocates that the conditions were not right for the issue to be addressed by the Supreme Court. The Court ultimately declined to address the substance of the case and ruled that the opponents of same-sex marriage lacked standing in the appeal. The decision allowed same-sex marriages to continue in California.

[14] In 2001, the Netherlands became the first country to legalise same-sex marriage, followed by Belgium and the Canadian provinces of Ontario and British Columbia in 2003. In 2004, Massachusetts became the first US state to legalise same-sex marriage. South Africa, the only country in Africa to allow same-sex marriages, did so in 2006. To date, no Asian country allows same-sex couples to marry within its jurisdiction.

[15] Tomohiro Osaki, ‘Japan LGBT Group Files Human Rights Complaint in Bid for Same-Sex Marriages’ Japan Times (Tokyo, 7 July 2015) http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2015/07/07/national/social-issues/lawyer-lobby-handed-lgbt-rights-relief-request-pursuit-legal-sex-marriages accessed 30 July 2015.

[16] Choi Woo-ri, ‘US Ruling Brings New Urgency to S Korean Efforts Toward Same Sex Marriage’ The Hankyoreh (Seoul, 29 June 2015) http://english.hani.co.kr/arti/english_edition/e_national/697925.html accessed 30 July 2015.

[17] Stuart Lau, ‘Same-Sex Marriage “an Inescapable Issue” in Hong Kong, Says Head of Equality Watchdog’ South China Morning Post (Hong Kong, 28 June 2015) http://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/article/1828134/same-sex-marriage-inescapable-issue-hong-kong-says-head-equality accessed 30 July 2015.

[18] In Taiwan, discrimination based on sexual orientation is illegal in employment under the Act of Gender Equality in Employment and in education under the Gender Equity Education Act. In Hong Kong, the Bill of Rights Ordinance 1991 bars sexual orientation discrimination by government entities. There are no laws prohibiting sexual orientation discrimination in Japan or South Korea.

[19] Kenji Yoshino, Speak Now: Marriage Equality on Trial (Crown 2015) 284-85.

[20] M. Bob Kao, ‘The Same-Sex Marriage Battle in Its Historical Context’ Thinking Taiwan (Taipei, 23 December 2014) http://thinking-taiwan.com/the-same-sex-marriage-battle-in-its-historical-context/ accessed 30 July 2015.

[21] ‘Taiwan Reviews Same-Sex Marriage Bill’ The China Post (Taipei, 23 December 2014) http://www.chinapost.com.tw/taiwan/national/national-news/2014/12/23/424706/Taiwan-reviews.htm accessed 30 July 2015. For the text of the bill, see https://tapcpr.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/e5a99ae5a7bbe5b9b3e6ac8a1003.pdf.

[22] M. Bob Kao, ‘Taiwan Parliament Debates Gay Marriage for the First Time’ Gay Star News (23 December 2014) http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/taiwan-parliament-debates-gay-marriage-first-time221214/ accessed 30 July 2015.

[23] The Ministry of Justice argued that: ‘1. The public would not be able to accept gender-neutral terms because they differ from people’s historical conceptions of human relations; 2. One of the reasons for marriage is procreation, and since same-sex couples cannot procreate, allowing them to marry would impact the existing marital institution that places emphasis on blood relations; 3. If same-sex marriage were recognised, death of a spouse would lead to inheritance passing onto the surviving spouse and children, thus the surviving parents would be left with nothing; [and] 4. There are too many laws and regulations that use the terms “father,” “mother,” “grandfather,” and “grandmother,” so amending them all to be consistent with the marriage equality bill would be too cumbersome.’ ibid.

[24] Alison Hsiao, ‘Grand Justice Nominee Review Panned’ Taipei Times (Taipei, 12 Jun 2015) http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2015/06/12/2003620526 accessed 30 July 2015.

[25] Eddy Chang, ‘Learning from the US Ruling’ Taipei Times (Taipei, 26 July 2015) http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2015/07/26/2003623908 accessed 30 July 2015; ‘Protesters Rally for Gay Marriage at KMT, DPP Headquarters’ Want China Times (Taipei, 12 July 2015) http://www.wantchinatimes.com/news-subclass-cnt.aspx?id=20150712000085&cid=1103 accessed 30 July 2015.

[26] Christie Chen, ‘Taipei City to Seek Constitutional Interpretation on Gay Marriage’ Focus Taiwan News Channel (Taipei, 23 July 2015) http://focustaiwan.tw/news/asoc/201507230024.aspx accessed 30 July 2015.

Bifurcation of Justice Systems in 19th Century Hong Kong

By David Kwok[1]

Abstract

In Hong Kong’s early colonial days, even though English law courts were firmly established in the colony, the local Chinese still went to the temples or their community leaders to seek a kind of justice that was familiar and made sense to them. A bifurcation between the two ‘justice’ systems, therefore, existed. The Chinese way of doing justice was mainly mediatory. In contrast, the English courts administered adversarial trials. Whilst the focus of the former is to avoid full blown litigation because it is seen as a disruption to social harmony, the judge in an English adversarial trial does not attempt to help the parties to settle their dispute, but (s)he is there to adjudge who wins and who loses. Slowly, as Hong Kong’s society progressed and modernized, the use of the English courts became more common. But the process was long and arduous and it took several decades for the new and foreign legal culture to settle and sink in.


I. Introduction

The purpose of this paper is to contrast the Chinese mediatory dispute resolution mechanism to the English adversarial trial in the context of 19th century Hong Kong. Whilst the focus of the former is to avoid full blown litigation, because it is seen as a disruption to social harmony, the judge in an English adversarial trial does not attempt to help the parties to settle their dispute, but to adjudge who wins and who loses. These two very different worlds of legal culture, or ideal types, met in Hong Kong starting from the mid-nineteenth century. As one would expect, the contact between them created confusion and it took an arduous process for the local inhabitants of Hong Kong to adapt to the foreign laws and customs. Even so, a bifurcation still existed in the early colonial days of Hong Kong; the local Chinese preferring the Chinese ways of dispute resolution, whilst the English laws and procedures applied mainly to the Europeans in Hong Kong.

II. Chinese Mediatory Dispute Resolution

Chinese history is replete with examples where imperial magistrates were reluctant to give a ruling when litigation arose. Instead of ruling who was right or wrong, mediatory means were employed to end the litigation. Chen discusses a case of the Eastern Han period in which a mother sued her son for not being filial. The magistrate, by the name of Chou Lan, went to the household of the mother and son, and gave lessons on ethics because he believed the case would not have happened if they had such education.[2]Another example is that of Hai Rui, who was an official in the Ming times. Hai gained a reputation as a fair judge in adjudicating cases. Despite this, and being influenced by Confucian teachings, he saw litigation as an indication of ‘unhealthy social phenomenon [and] moral decline.’[3]Even though litigating through the imperial courts was an established avenue for seeking justice, imperial magistrates and officials did not see it as the ideal method of resolving disputes. Litigation was seen as an antithesis, as well as menace, to social harmony. Thus the mixture of education and mediation was seen as the most effective way to deal with and dissipate disputes in society.

During the Maoist years, mediation was not only encouraged, it had also been institutionalized. One of the key developments was the establishment of People’s Mediation Committees. People’s Mediation Committees were usually run by the cadres and were spread throughout the country, making mediation easily accessible to the masses. The setting-up of people’s mediation proved to be a big success. Its effectiveness was recognized and enshrined in the Constitution.[4] Lubman notes that ‘in 1957, Liu Shaoqi, China’s prime minister before the Cultural Revolution, called people’s mediation the “first line of defense” in the work of “political-legal construction.”’[5] Various regulations were promulgated to govern people’s mediation and it was not until 2010 when the first law on it was passed.[6] The People’s Mediation Law of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) came into effect in 2011.[7] One of the aims of the law is to protect harmony and stability of society (Art. 1). Further, another object of people’s mediation is that people’s mediators will use persuasion and guidance to help disputing parties to settle disputes (Art. 2). Statistics show that in 1986 the ratio of the number of disputes dealt with by people’s mediation to the number of cases dealt with by the courts was 5.571:1.[8] In 2009, the number of disputes handled by people’s mediation was some 5.79 million, whilst those handled by the courts was 5.80 million, the ration being 0.9995:1.[9] Whilst some see the figures as indicating a decline in the use of people’s mediation, we can also conclude from the figures that people’s mediation is just as important as the courts, as the number of disputes dealt with by each was roughly equal.[10] The popularity of people’s mediation is not only a matter of cultural preference, but also economic considerations. The use of people’s mediation is far more cost-effective compared to litigation because only the cost of operation of the committees needs to be recouped from the parties.[11] In recent years, there has been increased cooperation between the Chinese judiciary and People’s Mediation Committees resulting in the setting-up of people’s mediation workstations in court houses.[12]

III. The English Adversarial Trial 

English adversarial trial processes differ from, and stand in sharp contrast to, Chinese mediatory dispute resolution. In a classic English trial, the judge typically does not adopt a litigation-avoidance attitude and seldom tries to help the parties to settle. Rather, the judge remains inactive and impartial, allowing the parties, or their advocates, to present and persuade the judge of their case. Jacobs describes the English judge as ‘inactive, passive and non-interventionist.’[13] Lord Denning describes the role of the English judge as follows:

In the system of trial which we have evolved in this country, the judge sits to hear and determine the issues raised by the parties, not to conduct an investigation or examination on behalf of society at large, as happens, we believe, in some foreign countries … And Lord Greene MR who explained that justice is best done by a judge who holds the balance between the contending parties without himself taking part in the their disputations … let the advocates one after the other put the weights into the scales … but the judge at the end decides which way the balance tilts, be it ever so slightly. So firmly is all this established in our law that the judge is not allowed in a civil dispute to call a witness whom he thinks might throw some light on the facts …[14]

Langbein quotes a French observer to an English criminal trial in 1820 who had described that the judge ‘remains almost a stranger to what is going on.’[15] Whether or not there is some exaggeration in this statement, what we can see is that the role played by an English judge is fundamentally different to that of the inquisitorial-judge in continental civil law systems or the mediatory-judge in China.

As a corollary of the judge being passive, it is the parties or their counsel, who take the leading role and decide on what evidence to present to the court. The Oxford English Dictionary defines adversarial to mean ‘that involves adversaries, contested (freq. of legal proceedings) characterized by adversary or combative behavior; opposed, hostile.’[16]The English adversarial trial is just that; it is a fight between the parties. Lord Denning has put it this way: ‘in litigation as in war. If one side makes a mistake, the other can take advantage of it. No holds are barred.’[17] Such a way of dispute resolution is deeply rooted in English culture. Neilson explains that the Norman conquest in 1066 resulted in ‘wager of battle’ introduced into England.[18] In this mode of trial, an accused in a criminal case could defend himself from the charges brought against him by physically fighting the opponent, and to begin the proceedings the judge would make the decree ‘let them come armed.’[19] The trial by battle used in the ancient times has evolved, to some extent, to become the adversarial English trial that we see today.[20]

In today’s adversarial trial, even though it is no longer about physical fighting we see a different sort of fight, namely that of orality. Orality is ‘at the heart of the trial.’[21] In considering the practice in continental civil law systems in which written evidence is preferred over oral evidence, the Evershed Committee said:

It is of the essence of the English system (enshrined in such phrases as ‘an Englishman’s word is his bond’) that generally speaking … no writing or other formality is required to prove a right. Under the system, therefore, the greatest weight and importance is attached to the oral testimony of the parties and their respective witnesses.[22]

After a witness has given oral testimony, the evidence is then tested by cross-examination by counsel acting for the other side. This aspect of a trial is not without critique. With the object of showing inconsistencies in the testimony or attacking the credibility of the witness, often counsel embarrass, criticize and attack the witness in subtle ways. In the words of McEwan, the adversarial trial becomes a ‘theatrical spectacle’ and ‘the most effective advocate, rather than the truth, will win the day.’[23]

Another distinctive feature of the adversarial trial is the jury.[24] Generally speaking, it is a body of twelve ordinary citizens who have been randomly chosen to preside over a trial and act as the tribunal of fact in that trial. Stemming from the Magna Carta which provides for ‘trial by peers,’ the jury trial is a symbol of the common law.[25]Like the judge, the jury remains passive throughout the trial, listening to the oral testimony of the witnesses.[26] In medieval England, however, the judges’ involvement in a trial was so minimal compared to that of the jury, that Langbein calls the role of the medieval judge as ‘stunted or impoverished.’[27]Sir John Fortescue praises that the jury trial is one of the best ways devised to arrive at the truth:

‘… is not this method of coming at the truth better and more effectual, than that way of proceeding, which the Civil Laws prescribe? … The witnesses or Jurors are of the neighbourhood, able to live of themselves, not brought before the Court by either of the parties, but chosen and returned by a proper office, a worthy, disinterested and indifferent person …’[28]

However, the adversarial trial has been criticized as being ‘too expensive … too slow … too unequal … too uncertain … and incomprehensible to many litigants.’[29] In the Woolf Reform in England and Wales, Lord Woolf recommended a change to the trial system, to render it ‘less adversarial and more cooperative.’[30]

IV. Bifurcation of Justice Systems in Hong Kong’s Early Colonial Days

A. THE SETTING UP OF ENGLISH LAW COURTS IN THE CROWN COLONY

After China was defeated in the Opium Wars, the British occupied the island of Hong Kong. Captain Elliot issued his first proclamation on 29 January 1841. So far as the administration of justice was concerned, a dual system or bifurcation was put in place, that is, Chinese laws and customs were to be applied to the native Chinese, whilst English laws applied to the Europeans residing in the island.[31]In this bifurcation, Captain Elliot wanted to have the local leaders or village elders control over the Chinese populace using Chinese laws and customs on top of which the English courts had overall supervision or control.[32]In doing so, first, Native Chinese Peace Officers, known as Paouchong and Paoukea, were appointed pursuant to Ordinance No. 13 of 1844.[33] Nine years later, the tepo (dibao) system was put in place. The tepos played a significant role in maintaining peace and order amongst the Chinese. Their duties involved fighting crime, dealing in land matters and claims, and giving character evidence in court.[34] One of their most important responsibilities was mediating civil disputes, the power of which came from Ordinance No. 3 of 1853.[35] Section 6 spelled out the procedure as to how a tepo would exercise his civil jurisdiction:

6. If any person has a complaint against a Chinese he may apply for redress to the tepo of the district…the tepo shall then summon all the assessors to his assistance; and shall proceed to hear and determine the case, not less than three assessors being present during the proceedings; and the decision of the majority of the assessors present, (the tepo voting as an assessor and having also the casting vote), shall be binding upon the parties: but the assessors instead of coming to a decision may, if they think it proper, refer the matter for the decision of the proper English tribunal.[36]

It is important to note that this section did not oblige a tepo to apply English law in any dispute before him. A tepo, being a local community leader, did not have knowledge of the English legal system. His duty was simply to bring about an amicable settlement, and the means that were employed and the venue for hearing a case were not regulated. Since the tepo himself, the assessors and the parties were all Chinese, Chinese mediatory ways of settling disputes would have been used. Even when the Tepo system was eventually abolished, it has been observed that ‘the Chinese secretly adhere to their own system faithfully.’[37]

In 1841, William Caine was appointed Chief Magistrate of Hong Kong. Captain Elliot, in his warrant, required Caine to:

exercise authority according to the laws, customs and usages of China as near as may be (every description of torture excepted) … over all the native inhabitants in the said island and the harbor thereof … where the crime according to Chinese law shall involve penalties exceeding in severity capital punishment, corporal punishment of 100 lashes, or 3 months’ imprisonment, or a $400 fine, he was to remit the case for the judgment of the head of the Government for the time being.[38]

Since Caine was a soldier, a Captain in the 26th Regiment of Infantry, he was ignorant of English laws.[39] Therefore, he administered justice in Hong Kong by ‘applying the discipline of the barrack-room.’[40]

In 1843, Sir Henry Pottinger became the first governor of Hong Kong. In a dispatch from Lord Stanley, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, to Sir Henry Pottinger dated 1843, it was said:

With regards to Courts of Justice, the great object which you will have in view, in the infancy of the Colony will be simplicity and promptitude … In Hong Kong there could be no Code of Laws, British or European, to which the course and people at large could refer as possessing any authority before the British occupation of the Island. Hence it may be necessary to provide that the Law of England is to be in force there. But that general rule unqualified by exceptions would create many more difficulties than it would remove … the Law of England shall be in force, by an exception almost as general – namely, that no part of that Law shall be considered in force which may be inapplicable to the local circumstances of the Colony and its inhabitants … There will of course be in the Island a large body of Chinese persons to whom the Law of England would be a rule of action and a measure of right equally unintelligible and vexatious.[41]

In 1844, three years after the founding of the colony, John Walter Hulme became the first Chief Justice of Hong Kong. By Ordinance No. 15 of 1844, a Supreme Court was established in Hong Kong.[42] Section 3 provided:

3. And be it further enacted and ordained, that the law of England shall be in full force in the said Colony of Hong Kong, except where the same shall be inapplicable to the local circumstances of the said Colony, or of its inhabitants … that in all matters relating to the practice and proceedings of the said Supreme Court … the practice of the English Courts shall be in force … in all criminal proceedings arising or being within the jurisdiction of the said Court, where the party or parties proceeded against shall be of Chinese origin or extraction, then, and in every such case, it shall be lawful for the said Court, in its discretion, to punish the offender or offenders according to the laws of China.[43]

The above provision clearly showed that the transplant of English law to the newly established Crown Colony was a gradual process. The provision empowered the English law court to use criminal sanctions according to Chinese laws. The intention behind this adoption of Chinese law is not that clear. One possibility is that such adoption was used because harsher sentences were allowed under Chinese laws than English laws.

B. THE MAN MO TEMPLE’S AND TUNG WAH HOSPITAL’S EXERCISE OF JUDICIAL FUNCTION

Despite such setting-up of English law courts by the colonial government, the local Chinese simply could not adapt to the foreign laws and customs. Thus the bifurcation system as initially envisaged by Captain Elliot continued, whether or not to the liking of the subsequent colonial authorities. The Chinese was complacent with using Chinese methods of dispute resolution and the Man Mo Temple became a key site for this to take place. Hence a bifurcation existed, that is, the local Chinese went to the temple whereas the Europeans used to English law courts.

A nineteenth century source described how the Man Mo Temple became an important place for the administration of justice when Hong Kong was in its initial years of British colonial rule:

(1847 or 26th year of To-kwong [Daoguang]) Sz-man king [Si Wenjing], and one Tam-tsoi [Tancai] built the Man-mo-miu [Wenwumiao] (or Temple to the Gods of Literature and War), and here they ‘judged the people’ in public assembly… In the 30th year of To-kwang[Daoguang] (1851) the shop-keepers of Sheung-wan [Shangwan] or Upper Bay (changed now to Sheung-wan [Shanghuan] or Upper Circuit) repaired the Man-mo Temple, elected a Committee, and therein afterwards decided all cases of any public interest.[44]

The Man Mo Temple, according to Munn, was a ‘forum of local justice’ which had ‘become a part of colonial legend.’[45] Ernst Johanan Eitel (1838-1908) described the Man Mo Temple as follows:

Public spirit among the Chinese vented itself in guild meetings, processions and temple-committees. Among the latter, the Committee of the Man-moo temple (rebuilt and enlarged in May, 1851) now rose into eminence as a sort of unrecognized and unofficial local-government board (principally made up by Nampak-hong [nanbeihang] or export merchants). This Committee secretly controlled native affairs, acted as commercial arbitrators, arranged for the due reception of mandarins passing through the Colony, negotiated the sale of official titles, and formed an unofficial link between the Chinese residents of Hongkong and the Canton Authorities.[46]

The said committee of the temple managed the affairs of the Chinese community.[47] And the local Chinese people can be said to have submitted themselves to the jurisdiction of the temple.[48] Carroll calls the Man Mo Temple ‘an informal courtroom’ and notes that some European residents viewed the temple’s control over native affairs with suspicion, fearing that it was used as a base for xenophobic activities.[49] The arbitration of disputes, according to Tsai, was done by ‘invok[ing] the moral authority of the temple’s two deities: the god of literature, Lord Man Cheong [Wenchang], and the god of war, Kuan Ti [Guandi], whom the merchants regarded as a god of wealth and fidelity in business transactions.’[50]

The China Mail reported in 1893 the procession of the deities of the Man Mo Temple as follows:

(1 March 1893)

The streets have been so croweded (sic) with Chinese today that it is almost impossible to get about the busier thoroughfare. Not only have thousands of visitors arrived from Canton and the nearer villages to witness the great three-day procession, but the Chinese places of business in different parts of the town have been closed to enable the workmen to prepare for the carnival, which is likely to be one of the most noisy and distracting ever held in the Colony. Permission has been given to begin the din at 9 o’oclock(sic) tomorrow morning. As a matter of fact the beating of gongs and other noises have begun already.

(2 March 1893)

The procession in connection with the Man Mo temple commenced in all its noisy hideousness this morning, and in some parts of the town business was practically suspended for several hours. About tiffin hour a protest was at last raised by the banks and business houses in Queen’s Road, and an order was given for the Police to divert the procession from making a second journey along Queen’s Road from Pottinger Street to the City Hall. The execution of this order nearly gave rise to a riot …[51]

It is with little wonder that a procession at the Man Mo Temple attracted so much attention from the Chinese community both locally and from abroad. The status and significance of the temple, in the words of Chan, was that of a social, religious and semi-judicial centre.[52] It was a place where the ‘wealthy, powerful, respectable’ gathered because they ‘had a better link to the gods.’[53] In 1850, three years after it was built, the temple underwent refurbishment and extension. This fact shows how highly valued it was by the natives as they did not hesitate to donate the necessary funds.[54] One would naturally be inclined to think that such exercise of judicial function by the Man Mo Temple would have attracted much criticism from the colonial authorities. However, on the contrary, there is evidence to suggest that there was approval on the part of the English courts to have the temple to try civil cases, at least simple ones. Smith notes that magistrates were sending complainants to the temple to have their disputes dealt with.[55] In 1870, a coolie was tried in the temple and received a fine for breaking glass.[56] Moreover, Ting has found that the Supreme Court did not try any civil cases in 1848, and he therefore argues that this coincided with the establishment of the Man Mo Temple in 1847.[57]

The general attitude of the Chinese towards the English legal system during the first fifty years of colonial rule was filled with distrust and unfamiliarity. Even after the administration of the Man Mo Temple was vested in the Tung Wah Hospital (Donghuayiyuan) pursuant to the Man Mo Temple Ordinance, the Chinese still were not keen to have disputes resolved in the English courts.[58] Tsai describes how the committee of the Tung Wah Hospital gradually became a forum where justice was sought and done, and ‘the committee arbitrated civil and commercial disputes among the Chinese … wherever possible, the ordinary Chinese sought to avoid the British magistrate’s court, whose laws and language they did not understand.’[59]Sinn discusses an insurance dispute that was handled by the committee in 1873.[60] The North China Insurance Company took a case to the committee claiming an insurance premium from the Kin-loong shop. Because the latter did not regard the decision of the committee as legally binding, the former had to institute formal proceedings in a court. The judge was confused as to the identity of the defendant. It was therefore easier for the Tung Wah committee to deal with the case ‘where people were familiar with each other as well as with their own modus operandi.’[61]

Regarding the judicial significance of the hospital, the Daily Press on 2 January 1873 commented: ‘it seems that there a vast number of disputes are settled.’[62] The influence that the Tung Wah Hospital had on the natives led to the Europeans viewing the hospital with wariness and qualms. The Daily Press in January 1878 reported that:

We have, time after time, exposed the pretensions of this body [the Tung Wah] and have endeavoured to impress upon the Government the impolicy (sic) of recognising (sic) the members of the Hospital Committee as such in any matters unconnected with that institution … Here we have an irresponsible body arrogating to itself all sorts of functions through the exercise of which it can render itself formidable alike to foreigners and natives … It is high time steps were taken to crush the pretensions of that Committee.[63]

In fact, there have been suggestions that the directorate of the Tung Wah committee acted as if they were Qing magistrates with the power to apply Chinese law and having jurisdiction over the natives. Lethbridge suggests:

… but by the late seventies, during the governorship of Sir John Pope Hennessy, the directorate did begin to act as though it had inherited the magisterial function of the departed ‘petty’ Mandarins and the trappings of the imperial Mandarinate. At the formal opening of the Hospital in 1872, the full committee, some 70 or 80 in number, were ‘all dressed in the Mandarin costume, some even with peacock’s feathers attached to their buttons’ …[64]

It is also important to note, says Cameron, that the committee members went to the Man Mo Temple each year during the spring and autumn festivals to carry out rituals as sacrifices to Confucius just as the magistrates of the imperial times did.[65] Isabella Bird, a traveller to Hong Kong in 1879, had this to say about the hospital:

The Tung-Wah hospital … was a charming Oriental sight, the grand, open-fronted room with its stone floor and many pillars, the superbly dressed directors and their blue-robed attendants, and the immense costumed crowd outside the gate in the sunshine, kept back by crimson-turbaned Sikh orderlies.[66]

Thus the Tung Wah Hospital, with such grandeur and impressiveness, has been likened to an imperial Chinese court (yamen).[67] But the colonial authorities, and in particular the officers of the formal courts of law, were not impressed. The Daily Press reported a case heard by a magistrate in 1875 in which a witness wanted to complain to the Tung Wah committee about being beaten by the prisoner. The presiding magistrate said:

why he should go to Tung Wah Hospital to complain, explaining to him that this was a British Colony, and the Tung Wah had no powers. This was a British Colony and the police station was the place to complain to. If he had been badly injured he would understand his going to the Tung Wah for cure, but to go there for the redress of a wrong was preposterous.[68]

C. THE CONTINUED UNFAMILIARITY WITH ENGLISH LAW – THE SWEARING OF OATHS

The use of dispute settlement processes by the Chinese based on their mediatory culture outside the formal court system is understandable. The English legal system, and the English language itself, were wholly foreign to the local inhabitants. James William Norton-Kyshe, Registrar of the Supreme Court of Hong Kong from 1895 to 1904, aptly raised the question as to ‘the fitness of English law for the Government of the Chinese.’[69] Sinn takes the view that English law was not suitable, even deficient.[70] Bickley, on the other hand, argues that the ‘corpus of court cases shows that in many cases Chinese people actively sought a decision by means of the British legal system in Hong Kong.’[71] Indeed, as time passed, it was not surprising to see more and more Chinese people making use of the court system provided by the colonial government. The reason is obvious, since only judgments given by the formal courts of law were legally recognized and binding. But the shift towards using English law was not smooth and not without mishap and difficulty. One of the most frequently encountered, and well documented, difficulties, for the Chinese as well as for the courts, was the making of oaths by Chinese witnesses when testifying in court. The cause of the difficulty is that there was no legal requirement for a witness to make an oath under imperial Chinese law. This is especially so as most disputes were settled in mediation. Hence, in order to satisfy such a requirement in an English court of law, the Chinese had to borrow some rituals commonly performed in temples and then label such rituals as Chinese ways of making oaths. The appendix to The Hong Kong Almanack and Directory for 1848 contains the following account of the way in which the Chinese had adapted to the English legal requirement:

… In Chinese courts of law and judgment, where the character of the people is fully understood, no oath whatever is administered to witnesses. In order, however, to meet the requirements of English law, an attempt has been made to introduce a species of Chinese oath in our various Courts. The first form practised here was that of cutting off a live cock’s or fowl’s head; a considerable perquisite was afforded to the Court-keepers by this system, who unscrupulously devoured the decapitated bodies. A cheap form of oath consists in breaking a basin into pieces, intending thereby to symbolize how anxious is the swearer, (?) (sic) that if he does not tell the truth, his body shall be unceremoniously smashed into its original dust … The forms of oaths at present in use is considerably cheaper in practice than either of the foregoing. Printed forms, on sheets of yellow paper about eight inches by six inches, are kept at hand by the interpreters. If the witness can write, he fills in the blank himself, or the interpreter will do it for him, to the effect that “so and so” is now in Court for “such and such a purpose,” that he will “speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” … the form finishes by simply stating that the “Divine heaven” or, as the Chinese understand it, “Court of heaven” witnesses this attestation … the paper … is then burnt by the flame of a lamp … This form of oaths (but on an extended scale) is said, however, to be practised in temples at Nanking [Nanjing] …[72]

The following contains accounts of the way in which each of these three modes of making an oath was used in real cases. The ‘cheapest’ mode of making an oath, that is, by burning a tiny piece of yellow paper (shaohuangzhi) had been used in the case of Chun Atee v You Tsoi. An elderly woman was sued for the failure to repay a debt borrowed in 1845. Her daughter, aged eighteen, promised to make the repayment. At the trial, the plaintiff was ‘burning a bit of joss paper and declaring that the girl defendant had assumed as her own her mother’s debt …’[73]

The swearing of an oath in the form of breaking a saucer into pieces was famously done in the divorce case of Matthyssons v Matthyssons which was tried before the House of Lords in 1846. A Chinese woman was called to testify, but she was reluctant to swear an oath. The following contains the exchange between Lord Brougham and the woman through an interpreter:

Lord Brougham inquired whether it was not required for her to break a saucer before she gave her evidence?

The interpreter said that she was very reluctant to be sworn a second time, and that her gods would be very angry with her.

Lord Brougham.-Tell her that her gods will punish us and not her, if anything wrong is done.

She ultimately consented to be sworn.

The female Chinese, whose name was Kowhan, was then called in and Lord Brougham desired the interpreter to tell her “that now she has been sworn in” (this was done with the formality of breaking the saucer)-“if she does not speak the truth, her gods will punish her.”[74]

Lastly, the method of chopping off a cock’s head (zaijitou) was used in the following account concerning the swearing of an affidavit:

According to an affidavit on record in the Supreme Court, oaths seem still at this period to have been administered according to native fashion. In one case, entitled “In the cause of Chung Assing,” there appears an affidavit, dated the 14th February, sworn to at Macao before Mr. Patrick Stewart, “a Commissioner for taking affidavits in the Supreme Court of Hongkong,” “by cutting off a cock’s head.” It is recorded that the first form of oath practised in Hongkong “was that of cutting off a live cock’s or fowl’s head,” but, judging from the records, this must have been in the earlier Police and other Courts, and it is doubtful if it was ever practised in the Supreme Court beyond the admission in evidence of affidavits which had been declared before Commissioners to take affidavits, of whom in the early days there were several besides the officers of the Court.[75]

The use of the three methods described above for the making of oaths no doubt attracted much attention and ridicule from the Europeans both locally in Hong Kong and abroad. But for the Chinese, such rituals were carried out seriously and solemnly. The burning of a small piece of yellow paper and the chopping of a cock’s head carried important ceremonial and religious meaning. They were often done during ceremonies and legal processes in the temples as they meant a direct connection to the deities. As to the reason why a cock is used, Ter Haar takes the view that ‘it was cheap to buy, and widely recognized as a symbol of life.’[76]

The initial meeting of English and Chinese laws and legal procedures in Hong Kong reflected sheer incompatibility between the two, and as a result, much friction and inconvenience was created for both the Europeans and the Chinese. As in the case of the swearing of oaths, we can see how the two different legal cultures clashed, and how the natives adapted and borrowed rituals which were normally found to be done in temples in order to be used in the English courts. To deal with the problem, Ordinance No. 15 of 1856 was passed on 22 August 1856.[77] One of the provisions of this law was to abolish the need for heathen witnesses to swear oaths unless required by the court. Norton-Kyshe notes that ‘if this Ordinance had been allowed, it would have done away with the farce of burning paper in relation to Chinese oaths (…)’.[78]For an unknown reason, the ordinance was disallowed a year later. However in 1860, the Ordinance to Amend the Law Relating to Jurors and Witnesses was passed.[79] Section 2 made it possible for non-Christians, who had to testify in court, to make a declaration in lieu of an oath. This ordinance effectively put an end to the Chinese having to make oaths in the forms of burning paper, cutting a cock’s head or smashing a saucer, which was incomprehensible, or even farcical, in the eyes of the Europeans.

V. Conclusion

In a very broad sense, the object of a Chinese judge is similar to that of an English judge in that both are trying to resolve disputes that came before them. But their approaches differ greatly, and it might be more suitable to construe them as having different aims in mind, the former being to foster an amicable settlement and the latter to decide who has the law on their side. In mid-nineteenth century Hong Kong, after the British had won the Opium Wars, the local Chinese in Hong Kong were exposed to a whole new legal culture that was difficult, if not impossible, to grasp. As discussed in this paper, even though English law courts were firmly established in the colony, the locals still went to the temples or their community leaders to seek a kind of justice that was familiar, and made sense, to them. The Man Mo Temple on Hollywood Road in Hong Kong was a prime site where justice was found and done. Seeking the powers of the deities, parties in conflict did not hesitate to bring their disputes before them. Even though in 1908 the administration of the Man Mo Temple was put in the hands of the Tung Wah Hospital, this did not result in the cases that would have gone to the temple ending up in the English law courts. But rather, the hospital inherited the judicial significance of the temple and slowly evolved to become a judicial centre in itself. What did this mean? At least in terms of Hong Kong being a Crown Colony, this meant that English law was not yet an institution that people turned to or relied on in times of dispute, conflict and trouble.

Slowly, as Hong Kong society progressed and modernized, the use of the English courts became more common and acceptable to the local Chinese inhabitants. The process was long and arduous which took several decades for the new legal culture to settle and sink in. However, it must also be borne in mind that not only the people to whom the new laws applied went through a process of adaptation; the new system itself had also adapted to the people. It thus went both ways. The swearing of oaths was one such example. It was a wholly new concept to the Chinese. In light of the difficulty the people had in trying to comply with such a requirement, the colonial government amended the law to allow a declaration to be made in lieu of an oath before testifying in court. This helped the people from having to do something which would be blasphemous to their gods, and at the same time maintaining the integrity of the system. This sort of accommodation created a necessary condition for the common law to flourish in Hong Kong.


Image by David Kwok ‘Man Mo Temple in Hong Kong’. 

[1] David Kwok is reading for a DPhil in Socio-Legal Studies at the Centre for Socio-Legal Studies at the University of Oxford. He is interested in the interaction between law and religion in contexts including imperial Chinese and contemporary post-colonial Asian societies. He is supervised by Dr Fernanda Pirie ([email protected]).

[2]Albert H. Y. Chen, “Mediation, Litigation, and Justice: Confucian Reflections in a Modern Liberal Society,” in Confucianism for the Modern World, ed. Daniel A. Bell and Hahm Chaibong (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 265.

[3]Ibid., 267.

[4]Art. 111 of the Constitution (1982 amendment): Wang Jianping and Zhang Yongjin, “Review of Research on People’s Mediation since the Reform and Opening Up,” Journal of Anhui Vocational College of Police Officers 10, no. 3 (2011): 21.

[5] Stanley B. Lubman, Bird in a Cage: Legal Reform in China After Mao (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999), 219.

[6]In 1989, the State Council issued the Regulation on the Organization of People’s Mediation Committees; in 2002, the Supreme People’s Court (SPC) issued the Rules relating to Trial of Cases concerning Mediated Agreements arising out of People’s Mediation: Wang and Zhang, “Review of Research on People’s Mediation since the Reform and Opening Up,” 21.

[7] The People’s Mediation Law of the PRC, promulgated on 28 August 2010 and came into effect on 1 January 2011 by order no. 34 of the President of the PRC.

[8]Zhu Xinlin, “The People’s Mediation System: Decline and Regeneration-Based on the Analysis of the Amount of Dispute Solation from 1986 to 2009,” Henan Caijing Zhengfa Daxue Xuebao 132, no. 4 (2012): 175.

[9]Ibid.

[10] See Aaron Halegua, “Reforming the People’s Mediation System in Urban China,” in The Evolution of Law Reform in China: An Uncertain Path, ed. Stanley B. Lubman (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2012), 607-642 for an analysis of the reasons for the decline of people’s mediation.

[11]Ma Xinfu and Song Ming, “People’s Mediation and Litigation in Modern Society,” Fazhiyu Shehui Fazhan 67, no. 1 (2006): 52.

[12]Zhang Hongxia, “Review of the Convergence of People’s Mediation and Civil Justice for a Period of 10 Years (2002-2012),” Journal of Southwest Jiaotong University (Social Sciences) 14, no. 4 (July 2013): 136.

[13] Sir Jack I. H. Jacob, The Fabric of English Civil Justice (London: Stevens & Sons, 1987), 9.

[14]Jones v National Coal Board [1957] 1 QB 55. The quoted extract comes from Michael Zander, Cases and Materials on the English Legal System, 4th ed. (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1984), 264-265.

[15] John H. Langbein, The Origins of Adversary Criminal Trial (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 253. However, Alan Paterson has been able to show that, at least in the former House of Lords and thus in appeal cases, judges’ decisions are not only influenced by counsel’s submission in court, but decisions are rendered by a social process involving the interaction of judges with fellow judges, legal academics, and counsel in and out of court: Alan Paterson, The Law Lords (London: The MacMillan Press, 1982).

[16]Cited in Edmond Gabbay, The English Adversarial System (London: E&J Gabbay, 1990), 10-11.

[17]Burmah Oil Co. v Governor and Co. of the Bank of England [1977] 1 WLR 473; [1977] 1 All ER 461, cited in Jacob, The Fabric of English Civil Justice, 14.

[18] George Neilson, Trial by Combat (Glasgow: William Hodge & Co, 1890), 31.

[19] Ibid., 36-37.

[20] Another form of ancient trial is that of trial by ordeal, see Paul R. Hyams, “Trial by Ordeal: The Key to Proof in the Early Common Law,” in On the Laws and Customs of England, ed. Morris S. Arnold et al. (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1981), 90-126. Wager of law was another ancient form of trial in which a party would ‘swear a precisely prescribed oath [and] produce a certain number of other persons, usually referred to as compurgators, to support his oath by making their own oaths:’ Stephan Landsman, “A Brief Survey of the Development of the Adversary System,” Ohio State Law Journal 44, (1983): 718.

[21]Zander, Cases and Materials on the English Legal System, 315.

[22] Final Report of the Committee on Supreme Court Practice and Procedure 1953, contained in Zander, Cases and Materials on the English Legal System, 317.

[23] Jenny McEwan, Evidence and the Adversarial Process: The Modern Law, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 1998), 9.

[24]Although the jury trial is somewhat a symbol of England criminal trial nowadays, civil trial had also used the jury system and a prime example is defamation cases.

[25] Jacob, The Fabric of English Civil Justice, 6; Frederick G. Kempin, Jr., Historical Introduction to Anglo-American Law in a Nutshell, 3rd ed. (St. Paul: West Publishing Co, 1990), 65.

[26]See John H. Langbein, “The Disappearance of Civil Trial in the United States,” Yale Law Journal 122, (2012-2013): 534 on a discussion of the illiteracy of English jurors in the medieval times.

[27] John H. Langbein, “Bifurcation and the Bench: The Influence of the Jury on English Conceptions of the Judiciary,” in Judges and Judging in the History of the Common Law and Civil Law: From Antiquity to Modern Times, ed. Paul Brand and Joshua Getzler (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 71.

[28] Francis Grigor, Sir John Fortescue’s Commendation of the Laws of England: The Translation into English of “De Laudibus Legum Angliæ, (London: Sweet and Maxwell, 1917), 43.

[29] Australian Law Reform Commission, Review of the Adversarial System of Litigation: Rethinking the Federal Civil Litigation System, Issues Paper 20 (Sydney: ALRC, 1997), 10, citing Lord Woolf, Access to Justice: Final Report to the Lord Chancellor on the Civil Justice System in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1996).

[30] S. H. Bailey et al., Smith, Bailey and Gunn on The Modern English Legal System, 4th ed. (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 2002), 1024.

[31] E. J. Eitel, Europe in China: The History of Hongkong From the Beginning to the Year 1882 (London: Luzac & Company, 1895), 164.

[32]Christopher Munn, Anglo-China: Chinese People and British Rule in Hong Kong 1841-1880 (Surrey: Curzon Press, 2001), 123.

[33]An Ordinance for the appointment and regulation of Native Chinese Peace Officers, Ordinance No. 13 of 1844, see A. J. Leach, The Ordinances of the Legislative Council of the Colony of HongKong, Commencing with the Year 1844 (Hong Kong: Noronha & Co., Government Printers, 1890), 1:50-51.

[34]Munn, Anglo-China, 123.

[35]An Ordinance to extend the duties of Chinese Tepos appointed under Ordinance No. 13 of 1844, Ordinance No. 3 of 1853.The preamble of this ordinance said: ‘Whereas disputes occasionally arise among the Chinese population of this Colony which might be more conveniently and amicably settled by the tepo, aided by the respectable Chinese inhabitants, than before an English tribunal; and whereas with a view to make the tepos of the several districts of the Colony more efficient, and to extend their usefulness, it is desirable that the voluntary fees now paid by Chinese householders for the support of the said tepos be made rateable and compulsory …’: Leach, The Ordinances of the Legislative Council of the Colony of HongKong, 1:279-280.

[36]Ibid., 281.

[37]Eitel, Europe in China, 166.

[38] Geoffrey Robley Sayer, Hong Kong 1841-1862: Birth, Adolescence and Coming of Age (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1980), 103.

[39] G. B. Endacott, A Biographical Sketch-Book of Early Hong Kong (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 1962), 62.

[40] Ibid.

[41] Document No. 43, CO 129/2, extracts from a dispatch from Lord Stanley to Sir Henry Pottinger, no. 8, 3 June 1843, contained in G. B. Endacott, An Eastern Entrepôt: A Collection of Documents Illustrating The History of Hong Kong (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1964), 257.

[42]An Ordinance to establish a Supreme Court of Judicature at Hongkong, Ordinance No. 15 of 1844.

[43] Leach, The Ordinances of the Legislative Council of the Colony of HongKong, 1:53.

[44]H. B., “The Districts of Hong Kong and the Name Kwan Tai Lo,” The China Review: Or, Notes and Queries on the Far East 1, (1873): 333. Si Wenjing was a wealthy businessman who ‘was operating a gambling establishment and brothels … built a theatre … [and] for a time he held the opium monopoly’ whereas Tancai was ‘formerly a foreman in the Government Dockyard at Singapore … [and] built some of Hong Kong’s most prestigious early buildings …’ Carl Smith, “The Emergence of a Chinese Elite in Hong Kong,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Hong Kong Branch 11, (1971): 81, 87.

[45]Munn, Anglo-China, 121.

[46]Eitel, Europe in China, 282. Eitel was the Inspector of Schools from 1878 to 1897: G. C. Hamilton, Government Departments in Hong Kong 1841-1969 (Hong Kong: Government Press, 1969), 37.

[47] James Hayes, The Hong Kong Region 1850-1911: Institutions and Leadership in Town and Countryside (Hamden, Connecticut: Archon, 1977), 65.

[48] Elizabeth Sinn, Power and Charity: The Early History of the Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1989), 16.

[49] John M. Carroll, Edge of Empires: Chinese Elites and British Colonials in Hong Kong (London: Harvard University Press, 2005), 32, 76.

[50] Jung-Fang Tsai, Hong Kong in Chinese History: Community and Social Unrest in the British Colony, 1842-1913 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 50.

[51]China Mail, March 1, 1893 and March 2, 1893, contained in David Faure, ed, A Documentary History of Hong Kong: Society (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1997), 61.

[52] Chan Wai Kwan, The Making of Hong Kong Society: Three Studies of Class Formation in Early Hong Kong (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 76.

[53] Ibid.

[54] Joseph Sun-Pao Ting, “Early Chinese Community in Hong Kong 1841-1870” (PhD thesis, University of Hong Kong, 1988), 243.

[55] Carl T. Smith, “Notes on Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Hong Kong Branch 16, (1976): 275.

[56] Ibid.

[57]Ting, “Early Chinese Community in Hong Kong 1841-1870,” 243.

[58]Man Mo Temple Ordinance, Ordinance No. 10 of 1908.

[59] Tsai, Hong Kong in Chinese History, 69.

[60]Sinn, Power and Charity, 97.

[61] Ibid.

[62] Contained in Smith, “Notes on Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong,” 275.

[63] Chan, The Making of Hong Kong Society, 126.

[64] Henry Lethbridge, Hong Kong: Stability and Change: A Collection of Essays (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1978), 61 quoting China Mail, February 14, 1872.

[65] Nigel Cameron, An Illustrated History of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991), 106.

[66] Tsai, Hong Kong in Chinese History, 70.

[67] Ibid.

[68] Daily Press, October 22, 1875 contained in Smith, “Notes on Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong,” 276.

[69] James William Norton-Kyshe, The History of The Laws and Courts of HongKong (Hong Kong: Noronha and Company, 1898), 1:viii.

[70]Sinn, Power and Charity, 97.

[71] Verner Bickley, “Differing Perceptions of Social Reality in Dr Stewart’s Court,” in A Magistrate’s Court in Nineteenth Century Hong Kong: Court in Time, 2nd ed., ed. Gillian Bickley (Hong Kong: Proverse Hong Kong, 2009), 74.

[72] See the appendix to The Hong Kong Almanack and Directory for 1848 contained in Norton-Kyshe, The History of The Laws and Courts of HongKong, 1:312-314.

[73] Norton-Kyshe, The History of The Laws and Courts of HongKong, 1:307.

[74]Ibid., 99-100.

[75]Ibid., 296.

[76]Barend J. Ter Haar, Ritual and Mythology of the Chinese Triads: Creating an Identity (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 183.

[77]An Ordinance for amending the Law of Evidence and Trial by Jury, Ordinance No. 15 of 1856.

[78] Norton-Kyshe, The History of The Laws and Courts of HongKong, 1:401.

[79]Ordinance No. 2 of 1860.

The Phenomenon of Lucrative Illegality

By Pedro Rubim Borges Fortes [1]

Abstract[2]

The present article discusses the phenomenon of lucrative illegality. Because private companies make rational decisions on whether to violate consumer protection laws and empirical observation shows that Brazilian companies continue to break the Consumers Defence Code (CDC), I argue that the collective litigation system fails to prevent these wrongdoings due to a lack of effective economic sanctions. Analysing all 405 class actions filed against private companies by the Attorney General Office’s Consumer Protection Department in Rio de Janeiro between 1991 and 2010, I demonstrate that the sanctions imposed by judges have not been sufficient to prevent new delinquencies. Brazilian courts should not only convict these companies for their consumer rights violations, but also impose economic sanctions and oblige them to reimburse effectively the illegal fees that they abusively charged. Punitive damages ought to be optimal, deterring companies without causing excessive costs that could harm shareholders and consumers. Illegality should not be lucrative. In the current scenario of under-deterrence, financial institutions, telecommunication companies and other private firms will continue to break the law, once they have economic incentives to do so.


I. Introduction

Looking at the national rankings of consumer complaints in Brazil, one tends to find a familiar set of ‘usual suspects’: financial institutions and telecommunications companies. These same companies are frequently defendants in class actions throughout the country. Their wrongdoings are regularly broadcasted in the media and yet these companies continue to break Brazilian law.

The main goal of the present article is to discuss the possible interdisciplinary explanations of this phenomenon, which I term ‘lucrative illegality’. In plain words, Brazilian companies repeatedly break the law because they are economically encouraged to do so. Consumer collective actions are not effective in punishing wrongdoers, given the reluctance of judges to impose effective economic sanctions. Brazilian legal culture rejects the American concept of punitive damages and companies consequently have clear economic incentives to break the law. The article begins with an explanation of the concept of ‘collective moral damage’ in Brazilian law as the point of departure for a socio-legal analysis of under-deterrence in the consumer collective actions system.

First, I will discuss the concept of ‘collective moral damage’, a key legal term in Brazilian collective actions legislation. According to most commentators, courts should convict companies to pay ‘collective moral damages’ as a way to punish them for their wrongdoings and to prevent future delinquencies.[3] Unsurprisingly, ‘collective moral damages’ clauses are widely perceived by academics as the legal basis for judicial decisions that can impose punitive damages to companies. However, judicial precedents of the 1st chamber[4] of the Superior Tribunal of Justice (hereinafter, STJ) do not admit punitive damages in class actions. Their dogmatic justification implies that mass consumer violations do not cause moral harm to society as such (nor to classes or categories of citizens) and, therefore, consumer masses have no right to secure ‘collective moral damages’ with a pedagogical and punitive character.[5] In addition, the court has also expressed its concern with the economic risks and unpredictability of punitive damages.[6] On the other hand, the 2nd chamber of the STJ does admit punitive damages in class actions.[7] In this paper, I will advance the argument that the latter opinion should prevail over the former one, given the negative consequences of denying courts the ability to impose punitive damages in collective litigation.

Second, I will examine a statistically significant sample of consumer class action cases at the Attorney General’s Office of Rio de Janeiro. Empirical observation reveals that Brazilian companies constantly break the law. In other words, the fact that a private company is held liable by Brazilian justice does not seem to deter its agents from violating the Consumer’s Defense Code (hereinafter, CDC) and from harming large numbers of consumers. After considering all the class actions cases against private companies, I argue that the convictions of these defendants did not produce effective incentives for compliance with the law. Many companies were convicted during this period and, due to the fact that they did not receive proper economic sanctions, they committed further wrongdoings and became defendants in other consumer class actions.

This article is based on empirical observation of the 405 consumer protection class actions filed by public prosecutors in Rio between 1991 and 2010. Mapping companies that continue to break the law and analysing 160 sentences, their economic impact and deterrence effect is assessed. In addition, nine legal actors involved with consumers’ protection class actions were interviewed and provided their opinions on punitive damages and the phenomenon of lucrative illegality. A subsequent section presents one real case study that demonstrates how massive consumer rights violations may be lucrative. In conclusion, I claim that effective economic sanctions are necessary to prevent the phenomenon of lucrative illegality.

II. The Brazilian Doctrine on Punitive Damages

There is no Brazilian law that clearly admits punitive damages or that sets standards for its application by the judiciary. In 2002, federal representatives tried to include in the Civil Code (CC) an express mandate for judges to impose punitive damages, but this legislative project was never submitted to congressional vote.

Nonetheless, Brazilian law has developed a concept of ‘collective moral damages’, which is the legal basis for the application of punitive damages due to the harm caused to society as a whole as a result of massive wrongdoings. According to article 6, VI, of the Brazilian CDC, one of the basic rights of consumers is “the effective prevention and compensation of patrimonial and moral damages, individual, collective, and diffuse”. In addition, Brazilian Civic Public Action Law (LACP) also refers to the moral damage liability in class actions, recognizing the existence of moral harm as a result of environmental pollution, mass consumer violations, urban disorder, cultural or historical heritage destruction, or of anti-economic practices.

Many academics consider the concept of ‘collective moral damages’ to provide legal basis for the admission of punitive damages in collective litigation. Bittar Filho explains that “collective moral damage is the unjust harm of the moral sphere of a given community or, in other words, it is the illegal violation of a certain circle of collective values.”[8] Likewise, André Ramos emphasises the extensive collective moral damage caused by mass torts violations, justifying extra-patrimonial compensations to the society as a whole.[9] Moreover, Hugo Mazzilli, addressing the critics, states that ‘on one hand, collective damages are nothing else than a collection of individual damages; on the other hand, even those who refuse to acknowledge the sum of individual damages as the essence of the collective moral damages concept, must remember that contemporary civil liability prescribes a punitive function, granting an extra-patrimonial character to the collective moral damages[10].’ Additionally, Fredie Didier Jr and Hermes Zaneti Jr admit the conviction to pay collective moral damages “whenever necessary to compensate the community sorrow, imposing a sanction that simultaneously represents reprehension, compensation, and that expresses the co-existential grammar of contemporary society, with mainly pedagogical character.”[11] Furthermore, Roscoe Bessa understands that the concept of ‘collective moral damages’ provides a legal basis for the recognition of punitive damages in the Brazilian collective litigation system. According to him, collective litigation forces us “to build solutions that use, simultaneously, concepts from civil liability and also the specific perspective from criminal law.”[12]

Teori Zavascki, a Professor of Law at the University of Brasilia, wrote an eloquent critique of this ‘collective moral damages’ concept. First, he stated that “compensation and punishment are distinguishable legal impositions” and “in the event of damages, compensation is due, according to the norms that rule the civil liability system; nonetheless, even in the event of serious illegality and offence, the imposition of any punishment not established beforehand by law is purely arbitrary, according to our normative system, an arbitrary act that is not softened – on the contrary, it becomes even more evident – when the punishment is disguised under the label of a conviction due to moral damages.”[13] Moreover, Teori Zavascki argued that “the victim of moral damages is, necessarily, a person. Moral damage involves, necessarily, suffering, sorrow, and psychological offence.”[14] In his conclusion, he claimed that law may not transform the essence of phenomena, nor their legal consequences, and, therefore, one should not interpret the Brazilian Civic Public Action Law (LACP) as having created an exotic concept of ‘collective moral damages.’[15]

Since Professor Zavascki was also a justice of the 1st chamber of the STJ, his opinion echoed from the bench.[16] Coherent with his academic writing, Justice Zavascki has expressed the same opinion in his judgements at the 1st chamber of the STJ.[17] Writing the majority opinion, Justice Zavascki stated that moral damages require individual pain and psychological suffering and that collective moral damages may not be imposed as a result of harm caused to society as such. According to Justice Zavascki, environmental protection does not require conviction in order for the responsible party to pay moral damages, since the judicial order to recompose the degraded ecosystem is sufficient to protect nature.[18]

Contrasting with these precedents from the 1st chamber, the 2nd chamber of the STJ not only admitted it, but also praised the concept of collective moral damages as a relevant instrument to prevent massive illegalities. In an initial decision,[19] justice Calmon vehemently disagreed with the line of thought of the 1st circuit: “I do not accept the conclusion of the 1st circuit, since evidence of pain, sorrow or psychological harm is inessential to characterize extra-patrimonial damage.” In a very strong opinion of a unanimous court, Justice Calmon added that “massive rights violations may not rest unrepaired”, since it would “lead to the failure of Law to prevent and compensate the social conflicts.” In a subsequent case,[20] Justice Martins wrote the opinion for a unanimous court and upheld a conviction of R$ 120,000 (equivalent to about US$ 60,000) due to collective moral damages.

The contrasting precedents within the STJ highlight the importance of the present research. Are extra-patrimonial damages in collective litigation necessary for the effective prevention of massive consumer rights violations? Empirical observation of consumer protection class actions demonstrates that the absence of effective economic sanctions creates a scenario of imperfect enforcement and induces lucrative illegality. The next section will advance this argument through quantitative data gleaned from Brazilian courts.

III. Mapping Consumer Protection Collective Actions

The CDC was enacted in 1990 and came into force by March, 1991.[21] Title III of the Code regulates consumer collective actions, and its rules vary considerably from the American model of collective litigation. First, individuals may not be plaintiffs in a Brazilian consumer collective action. Due to policy reasons, the role of plaintiff in collective actions is performed by public prosecutors, public defenders, private associations, unions, and even by state attorneys.[22] Second, there are no class certification procedures or analyses of adequate representation in Brazil, since these plaintiffs are entitled by the CDC to act on behalf of a mass of consumers.[23] Third, plaintiffs are exempt of all legal fees, including court litigation fees and attorney’s fees. In turn, frivolous litigation and bad faith litigation shall result in a fine that corresponds to ten times the value of the legal fees.[24] Fourth, evidence rules do not include discovery, but may involve the reversal of the burden of proof in favour of plaintiffs. Moreover, public prosecutors may initiate civil investigations to collect documents, hear witness, and produce the necessary evidence to support their class action claims.[25]

A. CONSUMER PROTECTION: THE ROLE OF PUBLIC PROSECUTORS

Few consumer protection collective actions were filed immediately after the enactment of the CDC. For instance, in the city of Rio de Janeiro, public prosecutors filed only 24 consumer protection collective actions against private companies from 1991 until 2001.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.43.58There are many reasons for the limited number of collective actions during this first decade: lack of consolidated doctrine about the new legislation; lack of structure to conduct investigations and collect evidence of wrongdoings; lack of independence of public prosecutors, since they were subordinated to the Attorney General and had to follow his instructions; lack of expertise to conduct civil investigations, since the senior prosecutors’ professional background had essentially been in criminal law enforcement.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.45.10The Attorney General Office of Rio de Janeiro restructured its consumer protection department in 2001, appointing four independent prosecutors, whose investigations, deals, and litigation activities were not under the direct control of the Attorney General. Independence enhanced productivity, as it was no longer necessary to seek hierarchical approval or to worry about the political consequences of suing private companies. In addition, the necessary structure to conduct civil investigations was finally provided and more detailed evidence was collected to support collective actions. The appointment of four independent prosecutors for permanent positions also brought technical expertise since their growing experience and credence gradually improved the quality of their work and the quantity of collective actions filed. As a consequence, the consumer protection prosecutors filed 160 consumer collective actions against private companies within the following five years.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.45.45These cases provide an excellent sample to evaluate the effectiveness of the Brazilian system of collective litigation. Empirical observation of these consumer protection collective actions shows that these private companies are often convicted, but do not receive appropriate economic sanctions for their wrongdoings. Moreover, the excessive time length of trials undermines the effectiveness of their punishments. Therefore, private companies do not have economic incentives to comply with the law. As a result, they commit further wrongdoings and more consumer collective action suits need to be filed against them. Between 2007 and 2010, the consumer protection prosecutors filed 221 collective actions against private companies.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.46.17Before suing private companies, public prosecutors usually propose deals to them. These deals often involve the commitment to stop breaking the law and to pay compensatory damages to the harmed consumers. The conditions of such payments are negotiable and may be parceled according to the company’s financial capacity. However, most companies refuse to negotiate and prefer to litigate. Assuming that companies are usually risk averse and make decisions based on rational analysis, it is clear that the system lacks economic sanctions to deter them from continuing to break the law.

The next section will identify who the defendants are in these 405 cases, throughout the twenty years of existence of the consumer protection department of the Attorney General Office of Rio de Janeiro.

B. USUAL SUSPECTS: IDENTIFYING THE WRONGDOERS

Mapping the dockets of consumer protection collective actions, one should also observe three different time periods: early years (1991-2001); intermediate years (2002-2006); and recent years (2007-2010).

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.47.22In the early years, 24 collective actions were filed. Financial institutions and telecommunication companies were already among the usual defendants. Some of these early collective actions tried to limit financial interest rates and were not successful, given the reluctance of the judiciary to intervene in economic matters. All the three collective actions against telecommunications companies focused on abusive advertisement practices to sell telephone lines.

In those early years, there was also a significant number of collective actions against real estate and housing companies. In one of these cases, apartments were sold, but not delivered to all the future proprietors. Two other cases involved illegal charges due to inflation losses. Finally, a fourth case involved the collapse of a building that had to be demolished due to project failure and the use of low quality construction materials. This case established a relevant precedent, since it was ruled that public prosecutors should not file collective actions on behalf of apartment proprietors and that these home-owners needed to go to courts to defend their own rights. As a direct consequence, the percentage of collective actions against housing and real estate companies decreased significantly in the following years, involving mostly contractual issues rather than construction failures.

There were no collective actions against transportation or energy companies in those early years. These types of companies gradually became repeat offenders during the intermediate years and defendants in many different collective actions in recent years. There are two different explanations for the complete non-existence of petitions filed against energy and transportation companies during those early years. First, civil investigation to collect evidence of malfunctioning services requires a very sophisticated structure and the public prosecutors lacked it during the 1990’s. Second, during those early years, the electricity company, ferry, subway, and urban train system were public. They were privatized by the end of that decade and consumers’ claims for better services significantly increased in the following years.

Screen Shot 2015-10-30 at 06.36.27In the intermediate years, the dockets show a much wider variety of cases, including different business sectors and leisure activities. The range of cases varied from accidents in amusement parks to abusive negotiation of graveyards. The enactment of the Sports Fan Statute (Lei n. 10,671/03) recognized that sports fans have the status of consumers and established the legal basis for suing clubs and federations.[26] Furthermore, the rising competition between tourism agencies resulted in a series of collective actions due to false advertisement, fraudulent behaviour, and illegal charges. Educational groups were also held liable for charging illegal fees. In addition, transportation and energy companies finally appeared as defendants in consumer protection collective actions in these intermediate years. Nonetheless, the usual defendants continued to violate the CDC and most class actions were filed against financial institutions, telecommunications companies, health companies, and real estate firms. During these intermediate years, these four types of companies were defendants in 61.9 % of all cases, a percentage not too far from the early years: 70.8 %.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.48.15In recent years, financial institutions and telecommunication companies continued to be sued by public prosecutors. In absolute terms, there were 36 collective actions against financial institutions in each of the periods. Regarding telecommunication companies, the number of consumer protection collective actions increased from 31 (2002-2006) to 36 (2007-2010). These companies have maintained their status of ‘usual suspects’ and are private companies that continue to break the law, regardless of the fact that they are repeat defendants in mass consumer violations collective actions.

It is also important to note the substantial growth in the number of cases involving buses, trains, subway, taxis, and the ferry system: 1275%. Although I did not collect specific data on the fines imposed on these companies by the State Transportation Agency (Agetransp) and by the Transportation Authority (DETRO and SMTr), one possible explanation may come from the lack of effective control by the regulatory agencies and executive authorities. For years, public prosecutors requested information from these bureaus and did not receive the requested reports. By 2010, however, there was a positive transformation in the Municipal Authority, whose Secretary focused more closely on inspections and quality control. Since then, detailed and prompt reports have been regularly sent to the Attorney General Office’s Consumer Protection Department. In the first three months of 2011, no collective action was filed against a transportation company.

Regulatory agencies and executive authorities also play an essential role in the case of consumer protection. If they regulate their markets in accordance with the CDC, private companies will have a clear set of rules to comply with. However, defining guidelines, norms, and duties is not sufficient. Without properly sanctioning wrongdoings, these agencies and authorities will witness the phenomenon of lucrative illegality: companies will constantly break the law, if they have economic incentives to do so.

In the present article, however, I do not attempt to describe the phenomenon of lucrative illegality by observing regulatory agencies. The focus is on the ineffectiveness of the Brazilian system of collective litigation. The next section will analyse all 160 collective action suits from the intermediate years and their outcomes.

C. GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY? – OBSERVING THE SENTENCES

Quantitative research indicates two main reasons for the ineffectiveness of Brazilian consumers’ collective actions. First, the lack of economic sanctions for wrongdoers provides economic incentives for companies to break the law. Second, the slowness of the Brazilian justice system affects its capacity to prevent new delinquencies.

Analysing the sample of 160 collective action suits, there is not a single case of a definitive conviction obliging a company to pay punitive damages. Companies were convicted in 21 cases, but effective economic sanctions were not imposed in any of these judgements. They were acquitted in 29 trials. Public prosecutors and private companies’ lawyers set deals in 34 class actions and negotiation almost always involved the defendant’s commitment to compliance with the CDC without the imposition of any economic sanction due to a previous breach of legislation. Exceptionally, once, private banks agreed to pay a six million dollars fine as part of a deal with the consumer protection department. 72 class actions are still waiting for sentences or final appeal judgements. In only three of these cases were private companies convicted to pay punitive damages. Due to illegal advertisement, a transportation company was convicted to pay US$ 300,000. For the same reason, a telecommunications company may be obliged to pay US$ 40,000. Finally, due to unlawful fuel trade, three different gas station companies were sentenced to pay US$ 40,000. All three of these convictions were confirmed by the state court of appeals and are waiting for the judgement of another appeal at the STJ.

Screen Shot 2015-11-05 at 15.11.09In addition to the lack of punitive damages, the complex Brazilian litigation system also fails to oblige private companies to compensate consumers for their economic losses. Unlike the American system, Brazil does not have a procedure of discovery to collect evidence under rules of full disclosure. Therefore, companies are not forced to provide detailed information of the illegal fees charged or to reveal the total amount of profit that resulted from breaking the law. Moreover, the Brazilian system does not have an effective procedure of fair notice. According to the CDC, consumers shall be warned on the existence of a class action suit by reading the state court of appeals official daily bulletin. As a consequence, most consumers are unaware of these cases and do not follow the judgements.[27] Finally, the Brazilian collective litigation system requires consumers to be proactive in order to receive compensation. Once a definitive judicial decision convicts a private company to compensate victims for their economic losses, the Brazilian system expects each consumer to hire a lawyer and to individually enter in the collective action suit to demand for his or her share of compensation. Considering that most of these cases are related to the illegal charge of a few dollars, the majority of victims do not take the trouble to claim their compensatory damages in courts. Given the lack of information on the total amount of economic losses, public prosecutors may not be able to force these companies to make a deposit at the Consumers’ Defense Fund, as an alternative for the individual compensation of consumers.

Examining all 21 of the collective action trials with definitive convictions, there is no case in which individual consumers were properly compensated. As a matter of fact, nine sentences declared that there was a breach of law and obliged the companies to comply with the CDC, but did not convict these defendants to pay compensatory damages. A further 12 convictions obliged companies to fully compensate victims’ losses, but ultimately these decisions did not impose economic sanctions on wrongdoers since individual consumers did not claim their share of damages and prosecutors still did not enforce the fluid recovery clause.[28]

It is worth noting that these convictions are not merely symbolic since judges take the necessary measures to enforce their own orders after the class action trials. Therefore, once a judicial order of compliance with the law is definitive, judges will impose a significant fine to disobedient companies. Most financial institutions and telecommunication enterprises do not challenge these judicial decisions and tend not to commit the same wrongdoing repeatedly. On the other hand, since these defendants do not experience any kind of economic punishment for their previous delinquencies, they do not have effective incentives to refrain from charging other illegal fees, breaking other clauses of the CDC, or adopting any other abusive practice. Empirical data reveals that they face minimum risk of suffering any kind of economic punishment as long as they do not challenge a judge’s prohibitive order.

This context of under-deterrence provides a clear explanation for all the deals negotiated without the imposition of economic compensation. Currently, public prosecutors do not expect to impose punitive damages through consumers’ class actions and they are aware that individual victims are unlikely to claim compensatory damages in these cases. Therefore, these prosecutors have clear incentives to negotiate deals in which private companies commit themselves to immediate compliance with the law. Since collective litigation in Brazil often last for many years, companies may settle once they are risk averse and foresee a concrete risk of economic punishment. There is just one exception when a financial institution decided to pay six million dollars in order to settle, probably preventing the risk of being convicted with a larger economic punishment in a collective action trial.

Finally, there are several collective actions waiting for a final decision. From the dockets of the intermediate years, 72 collective actions are still waiting for sentences or final appeal judgements. In 26 cases, there was already a sentence from the corporations’ court judge and an appeal was judged by the state’s higher court. These cases are waiting for a final decision from the Supreme Court or from the STJ. 29 collective actions were judged by the corporations’ court judge and are waiting for the judgement of an appeal. There are still 17 collective litigation trials waiting for a lower court sentence by the corporations’ judges.

Slowness is extremely harmful to consumers for several reasons. First, they are often deprived of monetary resources illegally retained by private companies. Second, in the absence of an injunction, companies will continue to repeat the disputed practice until a definitive decision and will constantly deprive consumers of their rights. Third, prolonged time lengths will demobilize consumers and individual victims are not likely to be fully compensated by private companies.

IV. The Phenomenon of Lucrative Illegality

In addition to the quantitative analysis, nine legal actors were interviewed: three public prosecutors; two judges; one public defender; one attorney of the State House of Representatives Consumers’ Defense Commission; two lawyers of private companies (one from a financial institution and one from a telecommunication enterprise). All of these legal actors are currently working with consumers’ class actions in Rio de Janeiro and their opinions come from years of professional expertise in the field. Interviews were conducted with a view to find their opinions on punitive damages, economic sanctions, and the phenomenon of lucrative illegality.

A. LACK OF PUNITIVE DAMAGES

Plaintiffs, for example, criticised the lack of punitive damages in collective litigation in Rio. According to the public defender, the Commission’s attorney, and the public prosecutors, private companies are almost never convicted to pay punitive damages. According to these professionals, courts are conservative: judges were forged in a legal culture of classical civil liability and, therefore, they are reluctant to punish companies for their wrongdoings. Their sentences are often limited to prohibiting an illegal act and to compensating for patrimonial damages. Two interviewees referred to the fact that collective litigation is relatively new in Brazil and that doctrine is still not consolidated, hoping that legal culture will admit punitive damages in the future. Two interviewees referred to the American origins of punitive damages and the prejudice that some iconic cases nurtured in the Brazilian legal community. The public defender also remembered the fact that there is no law that clearly admits punitive damages in Brazil. One of the judges also referred to the non-existence of a legal mandate as to the explanation for the lack of a culture of economic punishment.

Asked specifically about whether the concept of ‘collective moral damages’ could allow the conviction of companies to pay punitive damages, all the interviewees agreed, except the bank’s lawyer. He argued that moral damages are personal and do not affect society as such. The telecommunication’s lawyer admitted punitive damages, but also mentioned the fact that ‘collective moral damages’ did not seem to be an accurate concept. She claimed that there is a culture of vengeance in Brazil, in which public departments sue private companies based on a false idea of economic imperialism. In her view, there is a widespread myth that private companies always attempt to maximize profits by providing minimum levels of service. According to her, punitive damage is a dangerous imitation of a foreign concept that may eventually ruin businesses and lead to the bankruptcy of private companies.

Ironically, however, the same lawyer admitted that punitive damages have not been excessively expensive for private companies. As a practical matter, there were no economic sanctions imposed on her company due to consumer protection collective actions. This is not to say that there were no internal consequences. On the contrary, whenever a collective action suit is filed, the company’s legal department is concerned with the possible conviction, the negative publicity, and the inherent economic risks. Risk aversion of suffering punitive damages affects the business and private companies always invest more resources in order to prevent economic sanctions. On at least one occasion, the company was not originally committed to invest in a given service and massive investment in that service only came as the result of a class action suit. The lawyer explained that this case was exceptional since denying consumers’ rights to maximize profits is not part of the company’s policy. According to her, the company’s legal department has a veto power that may be overridden only by the CEO. If the lawyers demonstrate that a contractual clause or a given practice is illegal, their legal advice is not submitted to a business plan that evaluates whether benefits are superior to potential costs. However, cost and benefit analysis is the rationale of the company whenever they commit an unpredictable illegality. In these cases, caused by market malpractices, doctrinal change, and regulatory failures, it is usually more beneficial to pay damages to the few consumers that file suits than to improve their service’s quality.

Most interviewees are concerned with the possibility that the system creates incentives for frivolous litigation and unreasonable convictions. However, all the legal actors praised the Brazilian collective litigation system, since private companies are not supposed to pay punitive damages to individual consumers, but to a Fund of Consumers’ Rights Protection.[29] All of them consider this legal solution to be an interesting alternative to the American model of civil justice, in which punitive damages may benefit one individual litigant. One of the judges stated that such a system encourages consumers to suffer harm and eventually take steps to maximize the negative consequences of a company’s wrongdoing, simply to be entitled to a higher reward. Not only does such a system stimulate bad faith, but it also produces more externalities and society would have to bear such excessive social costs.

It is worth noting that most interviewees referred to iconic American cases to express their concern about exaggerated economic sanctions. Five interviewees mentioned the McDonald’s coffee case as an example not to be followed by Brazilian courts. Three interviewees commented vaguely that the United States was known for excessive monetary rewards, but they did not affirm anything about these cases that were merely anecdotal evidence to them. One public prosecutor also referred to the McDonald’s coffee case and to the Pinto case, but to praise the American civil justice system and its capacity to influence operational routines and decision-making within private companies. The Pinto case was also mentioned by one judge as an example of the importance of punitive damages. Another judge criticized not only the excesses of the United States, but also the apathy of France. According to her, the French consumer is often unprotected and private companies always claim that they are not liable for any harm caused to a consumer. In her opinion, the Brazilian system is the best since it is the most balanced.

Except for the private lawyers, all the legal actors defended the existence of punitive damages in Brazil and stated that the lack of punitive damages will almost always produce economic incentives for private companies to break the CDC. The bank’s lawyer argued that financial institutions are too concerned with their image and with bad publicity and punitive damages are, therefore, unnecessary. The telecommunication’s lawyer claimed that punitive damages would be internalised as costs, and consumers would have to pay for them through higher prices or lower quality services.

Both judges mentioned that excessive punishment may be harmful to consumers. They both highlighted the fact that imposing punitive damages involves a complex equation and that the economic sanction has to be proportional. According to one judge: punishment should not ruin business; it should not discourage investors; and it should be in the consumers’ interest, as opposed to detrimental to them.

When asked about the factors that should be taken into consideration to fix the amount of punitive damages, the interviewees mentioned: (i) size of the company; (ii) amount of harm caused to the victims; (iii) amount of profit gained due to the wrongdoing; (iv) capacity to prevent further wrongdoings; (v) degree and severity of misconduct. It was not possible to conclude from their answers whether these factors are hierarchical. As one of the public prosecutors put it, these parameters are supposed to come from a large number of practical judgements. However, courts have rarely – if ever – examined the criteria for the amount of punitive damages in a consumer class action. In addition, Brazilian scholars do not discuss them.

It is clear, therefore, that the lack of punitive damages helps explaining the phenomenon of lucrative illegality, since ‘collective moral damages’ remain simply as part of the ‘law in the books’ rather than the ‘law in action’.[30] The next section will show that the Brazilian consumer collective actions system also lacks other economic sanctions.

B. LACK OF OTHER ECONOMIC SANCTIONS

In addition to punitive damages, private companies may suffer other economic consequences as the result of a consumers’ protection collective action. For instance, a bank or telecommunication company may be convicted to reimburse an illegal fee that was charged to its clients. American researchers often criticise collective action settlements due to the temptation to collude and the fact that victims may receive less money or even discount coupons, which will require new purchases at the defendant’s company.[31] In Brazil, however, the scenario is even worse in terms of economic rewards since individual customers are expected to be proactive in order to receive compensation. The Brazilian collective litigation system expects each consumer to hire a lawyer and individually enter into the collective action suit to demand for his or her share of compensation. According to the quantitative analysis, there were only 21 definitive convictions in the intermediate years and none of them resulted in compensation for individual victims.

Both judges were aware of this phenomenon and stated that individual consumers almost never benefit from a collective action. One of them even said that he does not remember of a single individual compensation in his many years at the bench. The other judge referred to the compensation of a consumer as an extremely rare phenomenon. Their opinion is coherent with the quantitative analysis and was shared by all the other legal actors.

The bank’s lawyer explained that the Brazilian collective litigation system is still maturing. In the early years, consumers’ class actions were extremely rare and it was not clear whether the CDC also regulated financial institutions. According to him, only a few collective actions against banks got definitive sentences and are now ready to be enforced. In these cases, individual consumers usually only filed their individual suits against banks or simply did not follow the collective action trials. Therefore, once there is a definitive sentence, individual victims are not informed or are already compensated through other means.

The telecommunications’ lawyer added that not only is Brazilian civil justice slow, but many collective action suits claim small compensatory damages. Only a few customers claim these compensatory damages through individual law suits, in which the company may make deals and pay higher extra-patrimonial damages. Only a small percentage of customers file individual suits and ultimately the company may benefit from the fact that the mass of consumers is not compensated as a whole. As the lawyer put it, her telecommunications company still had not had to pay any kind of economic sanction whatsoever due to a consumers’ collective action.

The plaintiffs also confirmed that individual compensation through collective litigation is rare in Brazil. All the interviewees agreed that a less bureaucratic system would be much more effective. They all considered that the necessity to hire a lawyer to demand compensation was a strong obstacle to individual compensation in class actions. However, both judges were puzzled by the idea of abolishing this formality and could not conceive of a different system. Some plaintiffs suggested the possibility of conceiving administrative measures to enforce the judicial decisions in a hybrid system that would reconcile the independence of judges with the lower costs and higher level of information of regulatory agencies and other administrative bureaus.

Most legal actors consider injunctions to be the most effective method of consumer protection. Both judges stated that their orders are almost always followed and, if not, they imposed and charged higher fines. Both private lawyers agreed that their companies do not defy judicial orders, even if they disagree with the decision. Unless a judicial order is infeasible, they claim that they will never disobey.  Plaintiffs agree that injunctions may be very effective, but complain that sometimes judges are reluctant to charge fines. In any event, they all agree that economic sanctions may come more easily when a private company challenges a judicial order than otherwise.

C. ADDRESSING LUCRATIVE ILLEGALITY

As the interviews reveal, Brazilian companies benefit from breaking the law and violating consumer rights. What can be done to prevent their wrongdoings and eliminate the phenomenon of lucrative illegality?

The bank’s lawyer argued that dialogue between companies, regulatory agencies and class action plaintiffs is necessary. According to him, financial products and services should gain the prior approval of consumer protection departments in order to prevent further wrongdoings. Financial institutions are often liable because the CDC is not clear.

The telecommunications company lawyer claimed that more collective action suits are necessary, since they cause real internal impact on the business. In addition, she stated that immediate measures that affect profit are the most effective ones. For instance, if the corporation is not performing a given service correctly, prohibiting the company from contracting new customers for that service is the most effective way of forcing immediate investments. In addition, negative publicity in the media is also extremely effective to prevent further wrongdoings. Finally, she added that CEOs fear personal liability much more than punitive damages. Therefore, injunctions and sentences would be more effective if they imposed economic sanctions on the CEOs and eventually prohibited them from directing a company for a given period of time. Punitive damages are not imposing sanctions on CEOs; they are punishing shareholders or consumers.

One of the judges also thought that the disregard of legal entity doctrine would be an effective way of preventing lucrative illegality. According to her, there is not a single formula, but many different instruments that ought to be used more promptly and more often: injunction orders; punitive damages; prohibition of services; recall of products; and apprehension of goods. She also highlighted the importance of the media and suggested that companies should have an obligation to publish the summary of a definitive conviction, so that individual consumers may be aware that they are entitled to compensation. The other judge believes that Brazilian courts should develop a culture of imposing fines and other economic sanctions, such as punitive damages.

All the public prosecutors, the Commission’s attorney, and the public defender considered punitive damages to be an effective way to prevent further wrongdoings and to eliminate the phenomenon of lucrative illegality. One of the public prosecutors suggested that class actions suits should have priority over other cases due to their impact over multiple individuals. The other prosecutor added that the civil justice system should use new channels of information technology to broadcast class action suits. Another public prosecutor emphasised the personal liability of CEOs and the disregard of legal entity doctrine as the most effective instruments to prevent further wrongdoings. The Commission’s attorney praised injunction orders as the most effective tool for eliminating lucrative illegality. Finally, the public defender suggested that proportional companies’ assets should be frozen whenever they are accused of harming consumer rights so that they would not benefit from these resources during litigation.

The empirical research demonstrates, therefore, that the system should be reformed and that more effective enforcement mechanisms and economic sanctions should be developed to prevent further wrongdoings. The next section will provide a case study showing how companies repeatedly break the law, once they do not have appropriate disincentives to comply with the legislation.

V. Why Do Companies Constantly Break the Law?

As a case study, an on-going litigation case reveals the incentives that Brazilian companies have to break the law. C-TV (‘Cable TV’), a leading telecommunications company in the country, decided to charge R$ 10 – ten reais, corresponding roughly to two pounds – per month of all consumers who pay their bills via banks. However, this ‘bank payment fee’ (‘Tarifa de boleto bancário’) is prohibited by regulatory agencies. Both the Brazilian Central Bank (equivalent to the Bank of England) and the National Telecommunications Agency (ANATEL) defined the acceptance of payments as a typical banking function, which may not be subject to any fees whatsoever.[32] After all, because banks profit from money lending and high interest rates, financial institutions already benefit from the accumulation of monetary resources resulting from these payments. Additionally, the payment itself is not a service that adds value to the consumer, since he or she benefits from television broadcasting, but not from payment. Therefore, according to Brazilian regulation and laws, charging ‘bank payment fees’ is unlawful conduct and is consequently prohibited.

Why then would C-TV charge these illegal fees? C-TV charges its clients because the company has economic incentives to do so. Since Brazilian courts rarely convict companies to pay punitive damages and most convictions are not effectively enforced, C-TV has strong economic incentives to break the law. If the company complies with the CDC and with federal regulation, there is no payoff to C-TV or to its clients. In a scenario of ineffective enforcement, in which a company is convicted but ultimately not forced to compensate or pay any extra-patrimonial damages, C-TV would have a payoff of R$ 10 per month for every single consumer who pays his or her bills through the banking system. Conversely, each one of these cable television viewers lost R$ 10 per month and did not recover the money. Assuming that there is perfect enforcement, then both the company and consumers would not have any payoffs, but that is not a realistic scenario. On the contrary, companies almost never fully compensate for the harm caused collectively to its clients in Brazilian collective litigation. As discussed before, ineffective enforcement results in under-deterrence and fosters repeated cycles of lucrative illegality.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.49.08The mainstream assumption in Brazilian academia is that there is no difference in payoffs between (i) compliance with the law and (ii) illegality followed by conviction and patrimonial compensation. According to Teori Zavascki and other Brazilian authors, damages are limited by essentially being the necessary monetary resources to fully compensate wrongdoings. However, one should not admit the imposition of extra-patrimonial damages (such as the ‘collective moral damages’) in order to punish companies for mass consumers’ rights violations. Their argument follows the idea that such punitive damages would represent excessive costs that would be internalised by the companies and transferred to their shareholders or consumers. In other words, punitive damages should never be admitted in the Brazilian legal system due to the harmful economic consequences.[33]

However, the academic thesis relayed above – which I will term ‘hypothesis 1’ – does not relate to reality. Empirical observation demonstrates that many other analytical elements must be included in this context. The analysis must involve transaction costs evaluation, the repeated game circumstance, and the imperfect enforcement scenario. One should not ignore, for instance, that law enforcement through class action would necessarily imply litigation costs that we may estimate at R$ 2 (20 % of the litigation value, following the Brazilian tradition). As a matter of experience, when a company is convicted, there is often reputational loss and a value reduction of the company that we may estimate in R$ 1. We should also consider litigation costs that affect consumers’ payoff. In the Brazilian legal system, consumers do not have to cover plaintiff litigation expenses. Nonetheless, time erodes the value of their monetary compensation. Legal interest rates are 12% per year, inferior to investments and loan rates, which is a monetary loss that we could estimate to be equivalent to R$ 2.[34]

This much more sophisticated socio-legal context is related to reality and I will term ‘hypothesis 2’. We can see that the optimal outcome – in which companies and consumers do not have payoffs and society’s wealth is not minimized – requires companies’ compliance with the CDC.

In addition to the transaction costs evaluation, we should also consider the imperfect enforcement scenario and the repeated game circumstance.[35] Private companies are often repeated players in consumer protection class actions. In particular, telecommunication companies are always among the top few on the list of consumers’ complaints.[36] C-TV, the defendant in this case, had been sued several times by public prosecutors in the past ten years. Experience as a defendant certainly showed C-TV that the company is litigating in a scenario of imperfect enforcement, in which punitive damages are rarely imposed and most companies are convicted, but not forced to compensate consumers’ damages. In this scenario, C-TV has clear economic incentives to break the law repeatedly.

Screen Shot 2015-10-29 at 18.49.32In scenario A, C-TV faces minimum risks of being convicted to pay punitive damages and minimum risks of being forced to pay compensatory damages. C-TV is likely to be convicted, but without the sentence’s enforcement. Estimating the probabilities from data collected for this research,[37] there seems to be a 1% chance of paying punitive damages; 3% chance of paying compensatory damages; and 96 % chance of not paying anything, except litigation costs and reputational loss. In such a realistic scenario, the expected payoff for C-TV is $ 6.5.[38]

Let us now consider a different scenario B, in which legal reform improves remedies and a significant quantity of sentences are now under effective judicial enforcement. However, the focus of legal reform is limited to the enforcement of compensatory damages, since legal culture rejects punitive damages. Thus, legislature prohibits all forms of extra-patrimonial damages in collective litigation, regardless of the given denomination (‘collective moral damages,’ ‘punitive damages,’ or any other name). Estimating the probabilities, let us assume that there is a 0% chance of paying punitive damages; 50% chance of paying compensatory damages; 50 % chance of not paying anything, except litigation costs and reputational loss. In such a scenario, the expected payoff for C-TV is $ 2.[39]

Let us finally consider scenario C, in which legal reform not only improves remedies, but also establishes a regime of balanced and clear criteria to impose punitive damages on private companies. Thus, legislature is aimed at optimal deterrence and it is stated that punitive damages should be imposed when deterrence would otherwise be inadequate because of the possibility that injurers would escape liability. Estimating the probabilities, let us assume that there is a 20% chance of paying punitive damages; 40% chance of paying compensatory damages; 40 % chance of not paying anything, except litigation costs and reputational loss. In such a scenario, the expected payoff for C-TV is $ -1.[40]

Reflecting on these three different scenarios, we can understand why Brazilian companies continue to break consumer law. In scenario A, imperfect enforcement provides excellent economic incentives for C-TV to charge the illegal fee. Even with litigation costs and reputation loss, given the small probability of facing economic sanctions, the expected payoff is $ 6.5. Scenario A seems to be similar to the current Brazilian scenario, given the rejection of punitive damages by courts and very low enforcement. In B, a hypothetical scenario, the lack of punitive damages still creates an environment of limited economic sanctions for C-TV. Therefore, even though legal reform improved enforcement and reduced economic incentives to break the law, the expected payoff is still $ 2. Private companies are still encouraged to violate the CDC. In C, an alternative scenario, legal reform improves existing remedies and establishes a regime of punitive damages, providing courts with effective tools to impose economic sanctions as a consequence of mass consumers’ violations. In such scenario, the expected payoff is $ – 1 and the private company is unlikely to break the law.

This case study and the empirical observation of consumer class actions provide explanatory factors for the phenomenon of lucrative illegality.

VI. Conclusion

Many American scholars criticise the criteria for applying punitive damages in the United States. Joni Hersch and W. Kip Viscusi, for instance, compared decisions made by juries and by judges, concluding that jury awards are highly unpredictable and unrelated to compensatory damages as opposed to the judicial decisions.[41] Cass Sunstein also coordinated empirical research that pointed to the necessity of punitive damages reform to eliminate erratic and extremely expensive convictions.[42]

On the other hand, some studies reached contradictory conclusions. Theodore Eisenberg, Jeffrey J. Rachlinsky, and Martin T. Wells have not identified an unpredictable pattern of punitive damages awards or a shocking pattern of incoherence and unfairness.[43] In previous empirical research, Theodore Eisenberg, John Goerdt, Brian Ostrom, David Rottman, and Martin T. Wells had already demonstrated the predictability of punitive damages and the correlation between jury awards and compensatory damages.[44] [45]

Observing Brazilian legal culture and the sample of consumer collective actions in Rio de Janeiro is also relevant for reflecting upon the American judicial system. Lack of economic sanctions creates incentives for Brazilian companies to break the law. Therefore, both the U.S. Supreme Court and the Brazilian STJ should not eliminate punitive damage or ‘collective moral damage’ awards and should not impose limitations that prevent courts from sanctioning companies effectively.

The extremely limited number of convictions to make companies pay punitive damages has a direct impact on the deals settled between public prosecutors and private companies. Almost all the settlements in Rio did not impose economic sanctions on private companies because punitive damages are not likely to result from the judgement of these collective action suits. The correlation between settlements and punitive damages awards was also sustained by Mitchell Polinsky in his study of the American system, the difference being that damages induced companies to make an agreement and to settle the class action suit.[46]

As one judge pointed out, companies are more likely to break the law in less competitive markets. Telecommunication companies and financial institutions operate in limited markets and may establish barriers for customers to leave their contracts. Fidelity clauses, transaction costs, and other restrictions may limit the ability of a consumer to have a new bank account with a different bank or leave a phone company for its competitor. On the other hand, companies are less likely to break the law in more competitive markets.

Moreover, both the bank’s lawyer and the telecommunications company’s attorney eloquently affirmed that their companies do not assess the potential economic risks of consumer rights violation under a cost-benefit analysis before making decisions. On the other hand, it was admitted that such analysis was made after a consumer collective action suit was filed. I propose a counter-intuitive interpretation of their statements. Contrary to the common-sense idea, the non-existence of a cost-benefit analysis is not evidence that these companies respect consumers’ rights and will not break the law to pursue illegal profits. Lack of cost-benefit analysis is clear evidence that Brazilian private companies do not expect to be punished due to massive consumers’ rights violations. Unless courts take economic sanctions seriously and punish private companies for their wrongdoings, Brazilian companies will constantly break the law.


Image by Pedro Fortes shows him appearing at a public hearing in the Brazilian Congress as a legal expert and answering questions from congressman Romario.

[1] Associate Professor of Law, FGV Law School, Rio de Janeiro and a DPhil Candidate at the Centre for Socio-Legal Studies, Faculty of Law, University of Oxford. I served as state public prosecutor at the consumer protection office for three years and was responsible for dozens of class actions in Rio de Janeiro. Although my reflection on the subjects described here benefited greatly from this professional position, the conclusions expressed here do not correspond to the opinion of the Attorney General´s Office of Rio de Janeiro on such topics ([email protected]).

[2] This article was selected for the Fourth International Junior Faculty Forum, co-sponsored by Harvard Law School and Stanford Law School. Previous drafts were discussed at the FGV Faculty Workshop (Rio de Janeiro), at the Institute for Law and Finance at the Goethe University (Frankfurt), at Harvard Law School (Cambridge), at the ITAM Faculty Workshop (Mexico City), at the GRIPS seminar, at the Nuffield College, University of Oxford (Oxford), and at the Faculty Colloquium of the Georgetown Centre for Transnational Legal Studies (London). I am grateful for all feedback received and already incorporated into the article. I am particularly in debt with Dean Joaquim Falcão for his support for empirical research at FGV Law School. I am thankful to Shunko Rojas, Antonio Porto, Marcio Grandchamp, Luis Borges, Feliciano Guimarães, Ricardo Morishita, Tobias Tröger, Agustin Barroilhet, Gisela Mation, João Paulo Ferraz Vasconcellos, Stewart Macaulay, Carol Steiker, Deborah Hensler, Rogelio Perez-Perdomo, Lawrence Friedman, Bruno Salama, Mariana Pargendler, Joyce Sakda, Virgilio Andrade, Raymundo Gama, Yvonne Salt, Aron Szekely, Dingeman Wiertz, Katharina Grabietz, Denis Galligan, Christopher Hodges, Stefan Vogenauer, Alvaro Santos, Avi Bourassa, Filiz Wölfle, Hang Xiao, Conner Pine, Gregory Reith, Giovanni Papotti, Brigid McCarthy, Elena Tan, and Luis Guillermo Rosero for reading earlier drafts and providing extremely helpful feedback. Anelise Jordão and Lucas Thevernard were valuable research assistants. Two anonymous reviewers also made fairly helpful comments, suggestions, and critiques. I am particularly grateful to Po-Hsiang Ou and Matilde Gawronski for their excellent editorial assistance and guidance on how to incorporate the feedback from these anonymous reviewers. Thanks also Christiane Haschka Fortes for her encouragement and support with figures and tables. Finally, I must thank all the legal professionals involved with the consumer’s protection community in Rio de Janeiro for spending their valuable time with me and sharing their thoughts on the subject. Without the collaboration of these public prosecutors, public defenders, judges, members of the executive branch, and company lawyers these paper would never be written.

[3] Carlos Alberto Bittar Filho, Do dano moral coletivo no atual contexto jurídico brasileiro, in Revista de Direito do Consumidor, volume 12 (out-dez 94); André de Carvalho Ramos, A ação civil pública e o dano moral coletivo, in Revista de Direito do Consumidor, volume 25 (jan-mar 98); Leonardo Roscoe Bessa, Dano moral coletivo, in Revista de Direito do Consumidor, volume 59 (2006).

[4] I owe to the insightful comparative mind of Stefan Vogenauer the precise suggestion that ‘chamber’ would be the appropriate translation to refer to the different ‘turmas’ of the STJ.

[5] REsp 971844/RS. The opinion of the court, written by Judge Zavascki, states that there is no possibility of convicting companies to pay collective moral damages in consumer class actions.

[6] REsp 971844/RS. In his concurrence, Judge Fux expressed concerns over the economic consequences of convicting companies to pay collective moral damages in consumer class actions.

[7] REsp 1057274/RS.

[8] CARLOS ALBERTO BITTAR FILHO, Do Dano Moral Coletivo no Atual Contexto Jurídico Brasileiro, Revista de Direito do Consumidor, São Paulo: RT, 1994, v. 12, page 55.

[9] ANDRÉ DE CARVALHO RAMOS, A ação civil pública e o dano moral coletivo, Revista de Direito do Consumidor, São Paulo: RT, 1998, v. 25, page 83.

[10] HUGO NIGRO MAZZILLI, A DEFESA DOS INTERESSES DIFUSOS EM JUÍZO, Saraiva: São Paulo, 21ª edição, (2008), page 146.

[11] FREDIE DIDIER JR e HERMES ZANETI JR, CURSO DE DIREITO PROCESSUAL CIVIL: PROCESSO COLETIVO, Podium: São Paulo, 4ª edição (2009), pages 295-296.

[12] LEONARDO ROSCOE BESSA, Dano Moral Coletivo, Revista de Direito do Consumidor, São Paulo: RT, 2006 , v. 59.

[13] TEORI ALBINO ZAVASCKI, PROCESSO COLETIVO: TUTELA DE DIREITOS COLETIVOS E TUTELA COLETIVA DE DIREITOS, São Paulo: RT, 4ª edição (2009), page 40.

[14] Ibid, page 41.

[15] Ibid, pages 42-43.

[16] Justice Zavascki left the STJ and became a Justice of the Brazilian Supreme Court on November 29th 2012.

[17] The leading case in question was Attorney General Office of Minas Gerais vs Municipality of Uberlância and Canaã Housing Enterprises Ltd (REsp 598281, 01/06/2006). The environmental protection department of the Attorney General Office filed a petition against municipal authorities and a housing company due to an illegal project that caused environmental degradation. The housing company and the municipality were convicted and ordered to demolish all the houses, recompose the degraded areas and restore local nature. In addition, the lower court judge sanctioned the defendants with an amount of R$ 50,000 (equivalent to about US$ 25,000) due to the collective moral damage caused by their careless and illegal conduct. In the appeal’s judgement, the higher court overruled the conviction of collective moral damages, stating that moral damages are only awarded if there is individual suffering. The higher court concluded that there is no such legal concept as ‘collective moral damage’ in Brazilian law. Then, the Attorney General Office of Minas Gerais filed a Special Appeal to the STJ, and the case was distributed to the 1st circuit. Justice Fux (joined by Justice Delgado) wrote the minority opinion, in which he endorsed the idea that Article 6, VI, of the Consumers Defence Code (CDC) and Article 1 of the LACP enable judges to convict class action defendants to pay collective moral damage. Citing an array of academic opinions, Justice Fux sustained that “the major concern of judges, in these cases, is to prevent environmental damages, given the constitutional status of environmental protection, one should not interpret the law in a way that restricts this protection.” Concluding his opinion, Justice Fux mentioned that patrimonial damages and extra-patrimonial damages should coexist, interpretation that favours the balanced and healthy environment guaranteed by the Brazilian constitution.

[18] Justice Falcão joined the opinion. Justice Arruda concurred, but admitted the possibility of imposing collective moral damages. In her opinion, she pointed out that “there will be, surely, situations in which the extra-patrimonial damages will be compensated by objective measures of physical restoration and by a monetary compensation due to diffuse and collective moral harm.” Nonetheless, Justice Arruda did not find evidence of extra-patrimonial damage to the community in the case. Despite being a split decision, the case set a precedent in the 1st chamber of the STJ. In the following judgement of the court, Attorney General Office of Rio Grande do Sul and Municipality of Uruguaiana vs. Eletrojan Lighting and Electricity Ltd (REsp 821.891-RS, 12/05/2008), Justice Fux wrote the unanimous opinion of the court, following the precedent established in the previous judgement and stated that collective moral damages are inadmissible. The 1st chamber had another opportunity to endorse its precedents in two other cases. In Federal Attorney General Office vs. Brasil Telecom S/A and National Telecommunications Agency (ANATEL) (REsp 971.844/RS, 12/02/2010), Justice Zavascki wrote the opinion of a unanimous court, following the previous decisions. Justice Fux wrote a concurring opinion simply to express his concern with economic risks, unpredictability of lower courts, and the necessity of guaranteeing the economic balance of contracts in the telecommunications market to protect the rising investments. In a companion case, Federal Attorney General Office vs. Brasil Telecom S/A (REsp 1109905, 03/08/2010), Justice Carvalhido wrote the opinion for a unanimous court and followed the same line.

[19] Attorney General Office of Rio Grande do Sul vs. Bento Gonçalves Transportation Enterprises Ltd. (REsp 1057274/RS, 01/12/2009).

[20] Federal Attorney General Office and National Telecommunications Agency (ANATEL) vs. Brasil Telecom S/A (REsp 1150530/SC, 18/02/2010).

[21] Federal Statute nº 8.078/90 (CDC).

[22] Article 82 of the Consumers Defense Code (CDC).

[23] See ANTONIO GIDI, A CLASS ACTION COMO INSTRUMENTO DE TUTELA COLETIVA DE DIREITOS: AS AÇÕES COLETIVAS EM UMA PERSPECTIVA COMPARADA, São Paulo: RT (2007).

[24] Article 87 of the Consumers Defense Code (CDC).

[25] Article 6, VII, of the Consumers Defense Code (CDC); Article 8 of the Federal Statute nº 7.347/85.
[26] On the Sports Fan Statute, see PEDRO FORTES, The Law related to Brazilian Sports Fans: An Introduction for a British Audience, 11 Entertainment and Sports Law Journal 2 (2013); PEDRO FORTES, War and peace among organized support groups: the challenge of ensuring safety in football stadiums, 22 Caderno FGV Projetos, p. 86 (2013); PEDRO FORTES, We The Fans: Should International Football Have Its Own Constitution?, 21 Southwestern Journal of International Law (2014), p. 63; PEDRO FORTES, Das Brasilianische Sport-Fan Gesetz: eine Einführung für das deutsche Publikum, 32 Mitteilungen der Deutsch-Brasilianischen Juristenvereinigung, v. 1, p. 68 (2014); PEDRO FORTES, A responsabilidade coletiva de torcidas organizadas, 48 Revista do Ministério Público do Estado do Rio de Janeiro, p. 211 (2013).
[27] Article 92 of the Consumers Defense Code.

[28] Article 100 of the Consumers Defense Code.

[29] Article 13 of the Federal Statute nº 7.347/85.

[30] One of the blind reviewers suggested that administrative or criminal sanctions could be a better answer for prevention of consumer wrongdoings and criticised the focus of this article on punitive damages. Her commentary gives me the opportunity to clarify that I agree that ‘punitive damages’ are not a silver bullet that would fix entirely a scenario of under-deterrence of consumer protection. On the other hand, the phenomenon of lucrative illegality clearly emerged as a result of this empirical research based on interviews and case analysis. And I owe to many scholars who read and commented this paper – Denis Galligan, Lawrence Friedman, and Alvaro Santos, to name just a few – the recognition that ‘lucrative illegality’ is an original and invaluable contribution to the literature, because it conceptualises neatly a relevant socio-legal phenomenon.

[31] DEBORAH HENSLER, NICHOLAS PACE, BONITA DOMBEY-MOORE, BETH GIDDENS, JENNIFER GROSS, ERIK MOLLER, CLASS ACTION DILEMMAS: PURSUING PUBLIC GOALS FOR PRIVATE GAIN, RAND (2000), pages 93-99.

[32] Article 1, § 2, of Normative Resolution BACEN n. 3518/07.

[33] TEORI ALBINO ZAVASCKI, PROCESSO COLETIVO: TUTELA DE DIREITOS COLETIVOS E TUTELA COLETIVA DE DIREITOS, São Paulo: RT, 4ª edição (2009), pages 40-43.

[34] According to Baird, Gertner, and Picker, “we shall assume that a player values a payoff in a future period less than a payoff in the future period. We account for this by introducing a discount factor, the amount by which the value of a payoff in the next period must be adjusted to reflect its value in the present period. If we have a discount factor of δ, the present value of one dollar earned in the subsequent period is δ dollars”. DOUGLAS G. BAIRD, ROBERT H. GERTNER, AND RANDAL C. PICKER, GAME THEORY AND THE LAW, Harvard University Press, 2003, page 168.

[35] Ibid, pages 159-187.

[36] See, for instance, http://www.procon.sp.gov.br/pdf/acs_ranking_2010.pdf (last checked 04/24/11).
[37] I am grateful to an anonymous reviewer who not only praised this article, but also suggested that instead of an imagined hypothetical, I should ground my realistic scenario in empirical data collected through interviews and case analyses. I followed her advice, but – in a conservative fashion – assumed that three pending cases would lead to definitive convictions of companies to pay punitive damages. However, probability of a conviction is almost none and the amount of monetary rewards in the few convictions has been very low. My estimative of 3% for compensatory damages also comes from pending cases in which companies may have to recognise a credit for consumers in their long term contractual relationship.

[38] (0.01) x (-13) + (0.03) x (-3) + (0.96) x (7) = – 0.13 – 0.09 + 6.72 = 6.5.

[39] (0.0) x (-13) + (0.5) x (-3) + (0.5) x (7) = – 1.5 + 3.5 = 2

[40] (0.2) x (-13) + (0.4) x (-3) + (0.4) x (7) = – 2.6 – 1.2 + 2.8 = – 1

[41] JONI HERSCH AND W. KIP VISCUSI, Punitive damages: how juries and judges perform. The Journal of Legal Studies, Vol. 33, N. 1 (January 2004), pages 1-36.

[42] CASS SUNSTEIN, REID HASTIE, JOHN W. PAYNE, DAVID A. SCHKADE, and W. KIP VISCUSI, Punitive damages: how juries decide, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago (2002). See also CASS R. SUNSTEIN, DANIEL KAHNEMAN, and DAVID SCHKADE, Assessing punitive damages (with notes on cognition and valuation in law), in Behavioral Law and Economics, Cass R. Sunstein (editor), Cambridge University Press (2000).

[43] THEODORE EISENBERG, JEFFREY J. RACHLINSKY, AND MARTIN T. WELLS, Reconciling experimental incoherence with real-world coherence in punitive damages. Stanford Law Review, Vol. 54, n. 6 (Jun-2002), pages 1239-1271.

[44] THEODORE EISENBERG, JOHN GOERDT, BRIAN OSTROM, DAVID ROTTMAN, AND MARTIN T. WELLS, The predictability of punitive damages. The Journal of Legal Studies, Vol. 26, N. S2 (June 1997), pages 623-661.

[45] In a series of recent decisions, the U.S. Supreme Court has echoed the criticisms of the unpredictability of jury awards and has imposed constitutional limits on punitive damages See, for instance, BMW of North America v. Gore, 517 U.S. (1996); State Farm Mutual Automobile Insurance Co v. Campbell, 538 U.S. 408, 417 (2003); Exxon Shipping Co v. Baker, 554 U.S. 471 (2008). The premise of these judgements consisted of an assumption that excessive economic sanctions were negative for companies, stakeholders and consumers mainly due to their unpredictability. See JEFFREY L. FISHER, The Exxon Valdez case and regularizing punishment. Alaska Law Review, Vol. 26, n. 1, pages 1-46 (2009).

[46] A. MITCHELL POLINSKY, Are punitive damages really insignificant, predictable and rational? A comment on Eisenberg et al. The Journal of Legal Studies, Vol. 26 (1997), pages 663-677.