Band 14, Heft 1

In “The Opposite of Rape,” John Gardner defends two central claims. The first claim is that consent is not necessary for morally permissible sex and the second claim is that giving consent pride of place in sexual offence policy has the unwelcome consequence of reinforcing sexist ideology. Gardner’s arguments for both claims rely on what I call the “Passive Consent Thesis” which is the thesis that “if A gives consent to B in a sexual encounter, then A is passive and B is active in the encounter.” Gardner argues that if sex that is good in a key respect, then they engage in joint sexual activity that is free of this asymmetry of agency. Building on work by Karamvir Chadha, I respond that even if someone is passive with respect to the action to which they consent, they can still be active with respect to a different action that they perform themselves. Consequently, I maintain that two people can give each other consent while engaging in joint sexual activity.

Instrumentalist ideas have long been prominent in torts scholarship. Since the rise of legal realism, discussions of deterrence, compensation, the minimization of accident costs, and the distribution of losses have dominated scholarly discourse. In the past several decades, however, wholesale rejections of instrumentalist tort theory have arisen. The most uncompromising of these views rallies around the avowedly formalist battle cry that tort is “private law”. Ernest Weinrib’s elegant and influential book, The Idea of Private Law , declares its allegiance to that thesis in its title, and the idea figures almost as centrally in Arthur Ripstein’s recent and important Private Wrongs . Theorists who rally around the banner of “private law” claim that tort law’s governing principles of right and responsibility tumble out of the field’s characteristic legal form. Law, as they understand it, is constitutive of just relations among persons, not an instrument for the pursuit of independently valuable ends. For scholars like Weinrib and Ripstein, “private law” is the Kantian idea of reason that makes our actual law of torts intelligible. The claim that torts is a law of wrongs where persons bring claims in their own names for harms that they have wrongly suffered against those allegedly responsible for those wrongful harms is powerful and persuasive. The claim that the obligations persons owe one another in tort are obligations owed among equal and independent persons is likewise compelling. But theorists of tort as “private law” overshoot the mark by both asking and making too much of form. They ask too much of form when they attempt to make sense of the private law of torts solely in terms of form—eschewing all talk of interests. We cannot understand or justify the law of torts without attending to the interests that it protects. In tort, as elsewhere, rights and the duties they ground protect important individual interests. For example, it is our interest in the physical integrity of our persons that grounds the law of negligence. Theorist of tort as “private law” make too much of form when they present the legal category as its own private fiefdom walled off from surrounding legal fields. For Ripstein and Weinrib, “private law” is its own autonomous domain, sealed off against infection by any legal field whose form identifies it as “public law”. In our law, the private law of torts cooperates and competes with public law institutions as a response to the pervasiveness of accidental harm in an industrial and technological society. It is one way of institutionalizing our interest in safety. Establishing rightful relations among free and equal persons in civil society requires that institutions protect persons’ urgent interests, not just establish their formal independence. The theoretical understanding that we need will recognize that we misunderstand even the private law of torts itself if we sever it entirely from forms of collective responsibility for avoiding and repairing accidental harm with which it competes and cooperates.

In the article, we make three claims. First, we argue that a large number of what are traditionally seen as separate torts are, at their core, all about affronts to the dignity of the victim. These include offensive battery, assault, false imprisonment, intentional infliction of emotional distress, defamation, invasion of privacy, some nuisances, and abuse of process (malicious prosecution). These torts do not involve direct physical harm but, rather, emotional distress from having your dignity attacked. Second, we argue that as these torts have developed inside of their own doctrinal silos, there are important differences among the laws governing them. Third, we argue that these differences are not justified and that it would be better to create a consistent tort approach to dignitary harm: tort recovery should lie for injuries resulting from wrongful conduct that is highly offensive and causes more than minor harm. This, it turns out, is the standard that currently applies in a majority of jurisdictions for privacy invasions. If more widely adopted, this standard would, for example, far more easily allow recovery for nasty verbal sexual (or other) harassment, since intentional infliction of emotional distress currently requires a much stronger showing. At the same time, it would preclude recovery for minor physical touchings that technically now qualify as offensive battery. We think this achieves the balance much better.

Punitive damages present two related puzzles. One concerns their object. If they are punitive, their object is to punish tortfeasors. If they are damages, their object is to compensate tort victims. If they are both, the problem is to reconcile these different objects in applying them. A second puzzle involves their subject. Punitive damages are awarded for egregious wrongdoing. But the nature of that egregiousness is nebulous and contested, implicating many poorly understood terms. The two puzzles are connected, because the subject of punitive damages will inform their object. Once we know the type of wrongfulness that punitive damages deal with, we can understand better whether and how they are punishing, compensating, or both. This Article reconstructs one of punitive damages’ central subjects: malice. In so doing, it clarifies one key object of punitive damages: to offer redress to a victim of cruelty. Malice is a ubiquitous textual element in the state law of punitive damages. But there has been little scholarly commentary about what malice means for punitive damages. Drawing from the common history of tort and criminal law, this Article identifies two core meanings of malice: a desire or motive to do wrong, and a disposition of callous indifference to the wrong inflicted. Though distinct, these meanings broadly coalesce in the concept of cruelty. The Article argues that this reconstructed account of the wrong of malice represents a powerful justification for awarding punitive damages. Malice as cruelty as a justification for punitive damages also fits within a broader view of tort law as redress for specific private wrongs. But malice as a subject of punitive damages clarifies and enriches this account of their object. A victim of a tort done with malice, and who is aware of it, has been wronged more gravely than a victim of a tort done without malice and is, therefore, entitled to greater redress.