Activists on the left and right have increasingly turned to the courts to make policy, raising questions about the potential risks of judicialization. One possibility is that litigation is more prone to negative episodic media coverage than alternative modes of policymaking. Using across- and within-policy area comparisons of stories about the Federal Black Lung Program, collective asbestos litigation strategies, and individual asbestos tort suits, we find that coverage becomes steadily more episodic and critical as it focuses on policy regimes that feature increasing amounts of adversarial legalism. Moreover, even the broadest coverage of asbestos litigation fails to explain why victims of asbestos turned to the courts, how powerful interests constrained their policy options, or how judges urged Congress to act. This limited and relatively critical anecdotal reporting implies that litigation may engender less favorable media coverage than its alternatives and that activists should weigh this risk when deciding to litigate.

Despite the importance of judicial diversity for litigants and the broader public, no previous study has examined this issue within the French judiciary. This article begins to fill this gap by using original, qualitative data that shed light on judges’, prosecutors', and other legal actors' discourses on racial, ethnic, and sexual diversity. Its main contribution is to show that these legal professionals deploy three strategies—linguistic, institutional, and geographic—to dodge or downplay the relevance of race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation. The first, linguistic, form of avoidance lies in refusing to name and discuss race and ethnicity explicitly; the second, institutional, in denying that the judiciary has a diversity problem or that the problem lies within its power; and the third, geographic, consists in relegating the issue of diversity to distant places—the United States and overseas France. The article concludes by discussing key directions for future research.

Hoping to improve labor justice, some Latin American countries have reformed their labor courts without necessarily buttressing working-class power. Class power theories make us skeptical of these state-centric strategies for labor rights. Will the “rule-of-law” reforms work? This article reports ethnographic evidence collected by the author in the Chilean labor courts during 2009–2010, and secondary sources. It compares contemporary labor courts, reformed but in an otherwise “neoliberal” context, with the unreformed labor courts of the “socialist” years (1970–1972) to gauge the efficacy of rule-of-law reforms. Results show that despite the neoliberal context, the labor courts were more responsive to workers' claims than under socialism. Rule of law and procedural rules matter for effective labor rights.

Is Alexander Graham Bell's fame owed to law and lawyers? Two recent histories argue that some popular tales of invention originated with lawyers and judges as part of patent litigation battles (Stathis Arapostathis and Graeme Gooday, Patently Contestable: Electrical Technologies and Inventor Identities on Trial in Britain [2013]; Christopher Beauchamp, Invented by Law: Alexander Graham Bell and the Patent That Changed America [2015]). Bringing law into the historical project of understanding the social construction of technology, the authors unsettle “great man” narratives of invention. A tale of a recent patent war is a case study in the persistence of such narratives, highlighting the uses of legal storytelling (Ronald K. Fierstein, A Triumph of Genius: Edwin Land, Polaroid, and the Kodak Patent War [2015]). Together, these works invite consideration of the cultural power possessed by invention origin stories, the role of narratives in law and history, and the judicial performance of truth finding in Anglo-American law.

This essay considers what tools should be used to study the legal history of intellectual property. I identify three historiographical strategies: narration, contest, and formation. Narration identifies the diverse “narrative structures” that shape the field of intellectual property history. Contest highlights how the inherent instability of intellectual property as a legal concept prompts recurrent debates over its meaning. Formation recognizes how intellectual property historians can offer insight into broader legal history debates over how to consider the relationship between informal social practices and formalized legal mechanisms. I consider Kara W. Swanson's Banking on the Body: The Market in Blood, Milk and Sperm in Modern America (2014) in light of these historiographical strategies and conclude that Swanson's book guides us to a new conversation in the legal history of intellectual property law.

Solitary confinement has been a perennial tool of control in US prisons, despite its status as a repeatedly delegitimized practice. Although there have been significant changes in punishment over time, solitary confinement has remained, mostly at the margins and always as a response to past failures, part of an unending search for greater control over prisoners. This history raises the question of how a discredited penal technology can nevertheless persist. We locate the source of this persistence in prison administrators' unflagging belief in solitary confinement as a last-resort tool of control. To maintain this highly criticized practice, prison administrators strategically revise, but never abandon, discredited practices in response to antecedent legitimacy struggles. Using solitary confinement as a case study, we demonstrate how penal technologies that violate current sensibilities can survive, despite changing macro-level social factors that otherwise explain penal change and practice, provided those technologies serve prison officials' internal goals.

This essay provides a summary and critical appraisal of Risa Goluboff's Vagrant Nation: Police Power, Constitutional Change, and the Making of the 1960s, a book that interweaves the stories of an eclectic cast of characters who were the targets of vagrancy law prosecutions with stories of the lawyers who challenged these prosecutions. In charting the demise of what she terms a “vagrancy law regime,” Goluboff provides insights on the major social and political developments of the 1940s through the 1970s, including the labor movement, the black freedom struggle, the antiwar movement, and the sexual revolution. Goluboff's most significant achievement is her ability to identify in seemingly scattered challenges to vagrancy law a coherent and historically significant episode of constitutional change. Although I question whether the book delivers on its promise to reframe the way we understand the “long 1960s,” Vagrant Nation nonetheless offers a model of how to integrate social history and doctrinal history into a compelling narrative of constitutional change.

This essay showcases the contribution of Risa Goluboff's Vagrant Nation (2016) to one field of scholarship that the book scarcely mentions: the historical literature on the American state. In Goluboff's account of the fall of the “vagrancy law regime” in the “long 1960s” I see vital questions about the nature of the modern American state and the endurance of older, seemingly antithetical modes of governance. Given the trends that state-focused scholars have illuminated—for example, toward centralization of power and the protection of individual rights—what allowed for vague, locally enforced vagrancy laws to survive so late into the twentieth century? What ultimately triggered their demise? In mining Vagrant Nation for answers, this essay also urges scholars to contemplate “constitutionalization” as a form of statecraft. In giving a constitutional law framing to the grievances of “vagrants,” federal courts reinforced key tenets of the modern American state, including the supremacy of national law over competing legal orders and the desirability of being a rights-bearing member of the nation-state. Simultaneously, these court decisions left open other, more “modern” possibilities for regulating the kinds of people (poor, nonwhite, unpopular) whom vagrancy laws once ensnared.

The recent burst of scholarship on policing in 1960s America has produced two literatures that have often spoken past one another. One literature has taken a presentist perspective and has found in the 1960s the roots of the current carceral state. A second literature has characterized the 1960s as a period in which a century-old policing system collapsed. This essay uses Risa Goluboff's Vagrant Nation to tie these two literatures together, arguing that the terms on which Papachristou (1972) tore down the “vagrancy law regime” prompted and channeled the growth of the carceral state. The elimination of vagrancy law encouraged the state to expand the institutional and political reach of the police, ultimately helping produce a police power that was more intractable.

This essay reflects on the relationship between the diffuse legal struggle to dismantle vagrancy laws during the 1960s and the larger history of twentieth-century social movement advocacy. In Vagrant Nation, Risa Goluboff persuasively links the demise of vagrancy laws to the cultural and constitutional turmoil of the 1960s. It is possible, however, to interpret that decade's upheaval, which rendered explicit social stratification increasingly vulnerable, as an impediment to a budding anti-vagrancy law consensus instead of a prerequisite for legal change. On this alternative reading, the uncoordinated legal efforts to overturn vagrancy laws in a decade dominated by more contentious litigation campaigns may have contributed to a tepid decision by the Supreme Court, which ultimately invalidated vagrancy laws on narrow legalistic grounds. Indeed, the relatively protracted dismantlement of the vagrancy law regime raises the question whether bottom-up constitutionalism lacks potency in the absence of an intermediary organization with a well-defined litigation strategy.

In my response to reviews by Christopher Agee, Christopher Schmidt, Karen Tani, and Laura Weinrib, I explain some of the challenges of writing Vagrant Nation: Police Power, Constitutional Change, and the Making of the 1960s. In particular, I explore the challenge of creating narrative coherence without losing the essential multiplicity of the story or compromising my methodological commitment to constitutional history across the many actors involved in the legal change process. I ultimately constructed such coherence on three levels: narrative, thematic, and doctrinal. Narratively, I settled on a larger role for the Supreme Court than initially anticipated, while still de-centering the Court substantively, methodologically, and causally. I located thematic coherence largely in a new vision of the “sixties.” The decade that emerges was marked by a common claim against the idea that everyone had a proscribed place from which they could not escape; an evolving if incomplete effort to disentangle difference from danger; and the crucial role of both sympathy and empathy in the success of the challenge to vagrancy laws. Though numerous legal arguments ran through that challenge, doctrinal multiplicity—the refusal to flatten or narrow the complex set of arguments and harms that vagrancy cases presented—became its own form of coherence.

What roles have lawyers played in the conservative counterrevolution in US law and public policy? Two recent books, Jefferson Decker's The Other Rights Revolution: Conservative Lawyers and the Remaking of American Government (2016), and Amanda Hollis-Brusky's Ideas with Consequences: The Federalist Society and the Conservative Counterrevolution (2015), speak to the question. This essay explores how these books relate to a larger story of the conservative legal movement and the roles that lawyers and their organizations and networks have played in the conservative turn in American law and politics. It highlights four interrelated threads of the movement's development: creating a support structure for conservative legal advocacy; remaking the judiciary and holding judges accountable; generating, legitimizing, and disseminating ideas to support legal change; and embracing legal activism to roll back government. The essay then considers a continuing challenge for the movement: managing tensions among its several constituencies. Finally, it suggests how this story has played out in litigation to challenge campaign finance regulation.