All is not quiet at the courthouse. The American Society of Media Photographers and its coalition of photographic and graphical artists have renewed their motion to intervene. That motion, you may recall, was denied by Judge Chin with his usual reason: “The case was filed four years ago and has been conditionally settled; it is simply too late to permit new parties into the case.” The ASMP objectors are upset because, as they see it:
- Google’s scanning program infringed their copyrights, not just authors’ and publishers’.
- The original complaint excluded visual works from the plaintiff class; the 2006 amended complaint included them; the settlement class excludes them.
- Being left out of the deal harms them because they don’t benefit from the Registry.
- Being left out of the negotiations harmed them because they could have pressed for greater compensation.
- Practically speaking, they can’t vindicate their rights effectively if they’re not in the settlement.
Thus, the motion to intervene has two goals. First, it’s a vehicle to make sure that Judge Chin will listen to their objections. Second, it’s a way to try and get a seat at the negotiating table. Both of these questions are intertwined with the question of whether they should be treated as in the class or out of it. In one sense, the motion is schizophrenic, because it complains about being in but also about being out. In another, this ambiguity is precisely the problem; as they see it, they’re getting the worst of both worlds.
Meanwhile, the National Writers Union has issued a statement asking the Authors Guild to withdraw from the case. The NWU’s membership, speaking through its leadership, is also upset with the negotiated terms of the settlement. Its proposed way forward, like the ASMP’s, involves “new negotiations with the many voices that have up to now been excluded.”
Also meanwhile, as I blogged yesterday, Irv Muchnick wants the Google Book Search negotiations consolidated with the Reed-Elsevier negotiations. That would bring writers with works published in periodicals to the table. It would also reduce the control that the folks who negotiated the GBS settlement version 1.0 would have over version 2.0.
See a pattern?
As I’ve been reading these various requests, I’ve been getting the sense that there’s something a little ill-formed about their procedural claims. The desire to have a seat at the table is sensible enough, but that’s not usually how class actions work. So I thought some more, and read some more, about just what it is that bothers these procedural objectors, and how to fit their concerns into a class-action framework. And here’s what I’ve come up with.
Head of the Class
The starting point for my analysis is that up until October 2008, there was no class action. The Authors Guild plaintiffs had crafted their lawsuit in class-action form, but the court hadn’t actually certified that it could be maintained as a class action. In fact, the plaintiffs and Google had agreed (and the court ordered) that Google wouldn’t contest class certification until after all the pre-trial discovery and summary judgment motions.
We all know what happened next. Google and the plaintiffs went off into a room and negotiated what we now know as “the settlement.” But the whole time they were doing that, the plaintiffs were just plain plaintiffs. Their lawyers worked for them.
Another thing to note about those negotiations is that the Authors Guild, as an institution, had a chair in the smoke-filled room in its capacity as a plaintiff. Google might have been able to object to the AG’s role as a plaintiff, since its members are the real copyright owners with standing to sue. But again, that issue would have been aired as part of Google’s opposition to the class certification motion. The risk of losing on that point is among the reasons that the AG brought five individual authors in as co-plaintiffs, so that the case could proceed even if the AG wasn’t a proper plaintiff.
Everything changed on November 14, 2008, when Judge Sprizzo preliminarily approved the settlement. His order:
- Brought the plaintiff class into being, but “provisionally” and “for settlement purposes only,”
- Designated the five named authors (but not the Authors Guild) and five named publishers as representative plaintiffs.
- Appointed the named plaintiffs’ lawyers as counsel for the whole of the class. (That’s Boni & Zack for authors and Debevoise & Plimpton for publishers.)
- Scheduled the fairness hearing for June 11, 2009.
- Hit the “go” button on the class-notice program.
- Gave class members the choice to opt out, or to stay in the class by default.
- Gave class members the option to appear at the fairness hearing, and to object to:
- (i) the settlement,
- (ii) class certification,
- (iii) dismissal of the case,
- (iv) attorneys’ fees for the author subclass’s lawyers.
- For the time being, enjoined all class members from suing Google “asserting any claims that were brought or could have been brought” as part of the lawsuit.
- Put a self-destruct mechanism on all of the above if the court didn’t approve the settlement.
According to class-action theory, this certification order transformed the lawsuit from being run by the plaintiffs to being run by class counsel. Unless and until the court decides that the class isn’t proper or that class counsel didn’t adequately represent it, the plaintiffs’ case is run by the two law firms that are the class counsel. They owe a duty to the whole of the class, but they don’t really take orders from it. The fairness hearing and objections are designed to test whether they’ve done a proper job representing it, but until then, it’s their show.
Class Clowns
This is what struck me as a bit funny about the ASMP’s motion, the NWU’s letter, and Muchnick’s request of the DoJ. They’re asking for something that class action theory says doesn’t exist.
Start with the ASMP. They’ve asked to intervene—to join the lawsuit as distinct parties. If they’re class members, they have no Rule 23 right to be at the table now. Boni & Zack have been appointed to represent them for the present, but the ASMP can object to the deal Boni & Zack strike. So their voice gets heard later, but it still gets heard. Whereas if they’re not class members, then they’re not bound by the settlement and give up nothing by it. Thus, they don’t have an urgent legal need to be heard now. Their prudential interest in intervening is relatively weak, since, as Judge Chin points out, they could have intervened years ago.
What of the ASMP’s argument that they were cynically included in the class for two years, without their knowledge, to be used as a bargaining chip, only to be tossed aside at the last minute so that they could be ignored? Class action theory would say that there’s been no foul, because during those two years, there was no class. There was a complaint alleging class harms, but with no class certified, the ASMP wasn’t involved in a lawyer-client relationship. Nor was anyone bargaining with the ASMP’s interests; until you actually have a class certified by a judge, class allegations in a complaint are just empty words. Google was free to laugh at the inclusion of non-literary works in the complaint, and one way of looking at the way the settlement was restricted to exclude visual works is to say that when push came to shove, the plaintiffs had to back down from their expansive interpretation of the potential class.
The NWU’s argument that the Authors Guild should be taken out of the negotiations also sounds funny once you think of class counsel as the show-runners. The Authors Guild is already out of the driver’s seat. From another perspective, the Authors Guild is still a named plaintiff of the underlying lawsuit; there’s no way to exclude them from the case unless you persuade them to drop it or rule against them on the merits.
And take Muchnick’s letter to the DoJ asking for expanded negotiations. He’s picked up on an important point of political economy. The DoJ has a lot of clout here, enough to force the parties into negotiations with it, enough to force a revision of the settlement. But its clout isn’t the clout of the judge who can refuse to approve the settlement unless it’s changed to comply with the law, nor is it the clout of a dictator who can demand payoffs to approve your project. It’s just the clout of a determined litigator who’s signaled a willingness to take this one to the mattresses and has the law on its side.
When Google and the plaintiffs negotiate with the DoJ, it’s not because the DoJ is a party or an institution whose approval itself matters. They’re negotiating with the DoJ because it’s a persuasive enemy or ally. It has concerns, and will fight hard if those concerns aren’t answered. But the DoJ has also signaled that if its concerns are answered, it’s likely to push for settlement approval. If so, expect the DoJ to supply arguments for approving Settlement 2.0 that would be as persuasive as its arguments against approving Settlement 1.0 are.
Note, then, that the DoJ is not in a position to insert Muchnick, the Reed-Elsevier plaintiffs, or anyone else, into the official negotiation of Settlement 2.0. That remains the class counsel’s job. The DoJ could push for more voices at the table, but the Statement of Interest makes clear that the DoJ sees its job as enforcing legality, not as building consensus. It’s happy to take input on what Settlement 2.0 should say, but ultimately, it keeps its own counsel.
My conclusion, then, is that the logic of class actions, as they’re currently implemented by Rule 23 in the U.S., does not leave room for any of this recent crop of interventions from the author-class side. The Open Access Trust intervention stands on perhaps different footing; to the extent that it tries to vindicate the public interest, it’s advancing not the interest of class members, but of outsiders who aren’t already being represented by class counsel. Unlike the ASMP, whose members had interests that were obviously closely connected to those of the the literary authors who were suing Google, the Open Access Trust had no way of knowing that the proposed settlement would substantially affect them until the settlement was announced.
Given this potential difference, it may have been a tactical mistake for the Open Access Trust objectors to tie their renewed motion to intervene to their status as members of the plaintiff class. Coming in as outsiders, though, might not work any better. While Judge Chin’s expansive (dare I say “pragmatic”) conception of who should be allowed to object to the settlement will allow them to be heard, it also undercuts their reason for needing to intervene. The result is that they’re heard at the objection stage, but—yet again—not present for the negotiations.
Let’s take a step back. Why does this distinction between negotiation rights and objection rights matter? As all of the movants and objectors recognize, game theory favors the agenda-setters. Those who draft the settlement can pick exactly what it says; that enables them to select the terms that most favor themselves. Objectors, at best, have a shot at convincing Judge Chin to reject the settlement. Even Judge Chin’s veto power is a crude tool; he can’t sculpt the details of the settlement with it. If you get a seat around the negotiating table, you have a lot more ability to pull the settlement in the direction that you want. This, by the way, is one of the reasons I believe that the settlement requires searching review. Its proponents are the ones who picked each and every detail; the approval process should be designed to give them an incentive to get as many details as possible right, rather than the bare minimum.
Social Classes
Where do we stand now? It’s important to look closely at the motion to adjourn the fairness hearing and Judge Chin’s order. The plaintiffs—or rather, class counsel—asked to “adjourn” the hearing. That is, they asked for an indefinite delay, rather than asking to cancel it. Also, even though they indicated that they would be proffering Settlement 2.0, they didn’t withdraw the motion for approval of Settlement 1.0. Why not?
If they did, there’s a risk the class would vanish. If you were to strike the whole of Judge Sprizzo’s order, you don’t just lose the details of objecting to Settlement 1.0, you also lose the creation of the class and the appointment of class counsel. Suddenly, you no longer have two law firms that represent millions of plaintiffs. Instead, you have five authors, five publishers, and an association of authors, plus two law firms that work for them. Yes, they could as a group negotiate Settlement 2.0 and make a motion same as last time. But Judge Chin, now that he’s up on the case, might have issues with it at preliminary approval stage, and others might challenge the renewed class certification, and you’d have to jump over some hurdles that were easy the first time but might not be the second time.
More seriously, if you go back to a plain-old individual lawsuit, the fiction that the class counsel speak for the class no longer applies. That leaves more freedom of action for others—other potential plaintiffs, other potential objectors—in the suit. The reason to disallow intervention is that the case is at a “late” stage. But with no settlement on the table and no class, it goes back to a very early stage indeed. The parties have conducted almost no discovery, nor have they engaged in any serious motion practice—no motion to dismiss, no motions for summary judgments, almost nothing beyond the basic pleading. And that means that it suddenly becomes plausible to demand a seat at the table via intervention, now that you realize that this is a lawsuit about settlement. Here comes ASMP; here come the various author objectors; here come the European governments; here comes the Open Access Trust; here come the libraries; here comes everybody.
The ironic thing is that once you have that many cooks working on the broth, you may not get a settlement at all. Between the kibitzers on the access side—professors, libraries, privacy advocates—and the kibitzers on the copyright owner side—authors here and abroad, agents, composers and visual artists—you’re at a standstill. You need a way of making some people live with deal points they don’t like. Class actions solve the problem by giving the initiative to designated representatives, giving judges discretion over approval, and setting the bar for rejecting a settlement at “unfair” to objectors rather than “less than they want.” Legislation solves the problem by making everyone talk and argue until there are enough people happy enough that Congress can go ahead and pass something without fearing for its reelection chances. Toes get stepped on; noses get bent or sometimes broken.
I like dialogue. I’ve done what I can to facilitate public discussion, and I’m really looking forward to D is for Digitize and the conversations that will take place there. But at the end of the day, something has to happen. Books—and especially orphan books—need to get into the hands (and eyes and ears) of readers, on fair terms that compensate authors, and in a way that keeps publishers and distributors and indexers and libraries able to keep playing their parts, as well.
Say what you will about the settlement, the mere fact that it’s been seriously proposed has pushed our debate about access to books in a very positive direction. People are thinking hard about solutions to problems that seemed intractable just a year ago. And that proposal came from a process that empowered certain people to draft a document and submit it to the court for approval. When the DoJ talks about not wanting to lose “momentum,” that’s not an abstract concern. Our conversations need to be broadly inclusive, but they also need to directed at the goal of doing good things for books.
Class Warfare
But back to the current state of play. I’ve argued, on plenty of occasions, that it’s legitimate to be concerned about inclusive processes in this settlement. (Although, as just noted, procedure serves substantive ends; it’s not a goal in its own right.) And people have been raising process issues today and yesterday, looking to be included in the official conversations. But it’s also the case that the structure of a class action largely forecloses that kind of inclusiveness.
All of which tells me, then, that perhaps they should be focusing more on class-action law. In particular, if the class certification and class counsel are what stand between these groups and being heard in the way they think they need to be, perhaps they should be challenging class certification and the choice of counsel. Both of these objections are standard pieces of class action law. Look back at the list of things Judge Sprizzo’s order did. He didn’t just certify a class and appoint counsel; he also set a date for class members to object to both those moves. Indeed, plenty of objectors filed lengthy briefs arguing either that the class as certified is improper or that class counsel have done an inadequate job of representing class members.
In the ordinary course of affairs, those objections would have been aired at the fairness hearing, and Judge Chin would have needed to respond to them if he approved the settlement. These procedural objections were teed up for consideration at the same moment as the substantive objections to the actual terms of the settlement itself. Indeed, the fact that these objections would be considered provides an essential part of the justification for Judge Sprizzo’s class-certification order. He was able to legitimately approve the original “provisional” certification after only two weeks and without adversarial briefing or objections precisely because the fairness hearing would provide a chance to revisit the question for real.
Now, of course, the fairness hearing has been adjourned, thus putting off the day of reckoning. But this opens up a potential gap in the logic of class certification. Judge Sprizzo’s order approved the class “for settlement purposes only.” Class counsel couldn’t now go off and take the case to trial; they couldn’t dismiss the whole thing. The rationale of a “settlement class” makes sense if the case is moving towards settlement; it justifies postponing inquiry into the class’s bona fides until the fairness hearing. If the settlement isn’t happening on a schedule, then perhaps it becomes time to ask some of those difficult Rule 23 questions. If the substantive issues won’t be up for consideration soon (or possibly at all), there’s much less reason to put off considering the procedural issues.
This observation explains a lot of things. It explains why the parties have only “adjourned” the fairness hearing, and also why the motion to approve the now-obsolete Settlement 1.0 is still officially before the court. It also explains why Judge Chin is cracking the whip about holding the status conference on October 7. I suspect that he wants to be told, directly and explicitly, that Settlement 2.0 is coming, and to be given a specific, near-term timetable for its delivery. The longer the case sits in limbo, the more vulnerable the privileged status of class counsel looks.
I expect that at least some of the objectors may, in the weeks ahead, convert their objections into motions to challenge class certification or to replace class counsel. Some of these objectors may simply want to be part of the negotiations; others will probably be seizing the opportunity to try and scuttle the settlement entirely by kicking its procedural legs out from underneath it. Were I Judge Chin, I would not look on this sort of objection with much pleasure. Trial judges often want class-action settlements to go through; among other things, it clears a difficult, high-workload case off their docket. His most recent order shows he’s well attuned to the public benefits Settlement 2.0 could offer. The procedural mess that will result if he decertifies the class isn’t something any judge would look forward to managing. I think, then, that this sort of objection will not get a warm welcome—but the question is how long a conscientious judge (and Judge Chin is as highly-reputed as they come) can put it off. This concern has to be feeding into his—and everyone’s—thinking about the settlement’s “momentum.”
Conclusion
I have mixed feelings about these class-certification issues. On the one hand, I’m not a fan of the way that the secret negotiations that produced this deal left out all sorts of important public interests, or that the voiceless orphans were hijacked in the class definition to provide support for some of the settlement’s more objectionable provisions. On the other hand, making books and book search available is a great social good, particularly for those same orphan works. Like the DoJ, I don’t want to lose the momentum toward finding a good, public-serving, solution. And also like the DoJ, I’m willing to consider class actions as way of finding such solutions.
Researching class action law, and this class action in particular, has made me more aware of both sides of this issue. I have a clearer sense of the tenuous claims of class counsel to legitimacy—but I also have a clearer sense of how they’ve used their privileged position to make the good things in the settlement possible in the first place. There are important questions that need to be aired, and important bugs in Settlement 1.0 that need to be fixed, but the dangerous possibility that everything could fall apart is very, very real.
I hate to be the guy who says “I told you so,” but I would like to point out that my Principles and Recommendations post was dated November 8, 2008. That was six days before Judge Sprizzo certified the class, and almost two months before the notice period commenced. The core antitrust issues that are tripping up Settlement 1.0 now were all in there. If the settling parties had redrafted the settlement then, they wouldn’t be in the position of trying to produce Settlement 2.0 while taking heavy enemy fire. Yes, there would still be objections about all sorts of things, some of them going to the heart of the settlement itself—but there wouldn’t also be the huge procedural risks associated with renegotiating the deal on the fly while the approval motion is pending.
That’s another risk of closed-door negotiations, of structuring your procedure in a way that reduces participation. It’s not just that you might structure the deal to benefit only the people in the room. It’s also that you end up missing bugs that others might have caught. Settlement 1.0 is buggy; I hope it’s not too late for the patch.
Rather than close on such a somber note, let me put in another plug for D is for Digitize. Our doors are open; all are welcome. Regardless of what you think about Settlement 1.0, the common enterprise of connecting writers and readers unites us. We want to have a constructive conversation about Settlement (or Legislation, or what-have-you) 2.0. What should be in it, what shouldn’t, and how do we get there? We’ll see you October 8–10, at New York Law School.