Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Decreases in law school enrollment

My recent look-through of the 1992 issues of ABA Journal produced a small stack of articles about law firms reducing hiring and cutting existing associates; this had been going on ever since the late 1980s, when the Gordon Gekko-style craze for corporate mergers and acquisitions fizzled out and the stock market crashed.  The news filtered down to potential law students eventually: note the fall in enrollments for the 1993-1994 academic year.  The New York Times and LSAC have indicated that 2010 and 2011 have seen reduced numbers of LSAT-takers and law-school enrollments.  This decrease, too, is obviously related to the weak legal jobs market.

There's evidence of shrinking law school enrollment in other periods too.  Some are due to the second World War, to Korea, and to early Vietnam; can I isolate economic factors that may encourage shrinking law school numbers?  Bad legal jobs outlooks may do it; but perhaps a REALLY hot economy will too, as young people seek other opportunities.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Measuring a lawyer surplus

There's a few attempts on the internet at measuring the surplus of lawyers--qualified lawyers for whom there's no jobs available.  My last post compared the 1.2 million individuals carrying law licenses to the 700,000-or-so jobs available.  I'm still working on how the BLS and the Census actually define "lawyer" and "job" and determine whether someone is a lawyer or has a lawyer job under these measures if he is a solo practitioner or a partner in a firm.

There's an interesting model of lawyer surplus created by an outfit called EMSI.  They figure that there will be about 26,000 openings for lawyers every year from 2010-2015, based on a calculation in their proprietary software.  Obviously, this is far fewer than the number of J.D.s that law schools graduate each year, 44,000.  They also have state-by-state estimates which compare the number of jobs that may be open in each state to the number of bar-passers.  The comparison is not favorable in almost any state. 

It also compares the number of jobs available to the number of law school graduates each year in each state.  This is kind of quaint, assuming that people will be more connected to the state where they went to school than they, in reality, probably are.

Monday, April 9, 2012

How many lawyers are there in the United States?

This is a very good question.  The ABA's marketing department reports that in 2010 there were 1,203,452 licensed attorneys in the United States.  Meanwhile, the ABA Section of Legal Education releases numbers that add up there having been 1,531,507 J.D.s awarded since 1964.   Professor Jane Yakowitz estimates that about 150,000 J.D.s have never passed a bar exam--and so generally are not licensed attorneys.  ("Marooned: An Empirical Investigation of Law School Graduates Who Fail the Bar Exam," 60 Journal of Legal Education 3 (2010)).  With the number of attorneys who may have passed away in the past 50 years, and those who have given up their licenses, the 1.2 million licensed attorneys-figure the ABA provides is quite reasonable.

That seems like a lot of lawyers.  But many fewer are not being lawyers.  The Bureau of Labor Statistics says that there were 728,200 lawyers "employed" in the country in 2010.  The Bureau of the Census estimates that there were about 689,000 lawyers and judges (give or take 18,000).


This means that around 500,000 licensed attorneys do not practice.  The number teaching couldn't possibly fill this gap. (I realize I have not precisely investigated the meanings of "lawyer" or "employed" or "judge" in the statistics quoted above, but for now it can't matter very much).  Half a million people, who went to the trouble of as many as 7 years of school, and who absorbed all that cost in tuition and lost wages, aren't using their degrees.

I'm working on what they're doing.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Short law students

According to the New York Times ("Yale Law School Statistics," May 14, 1894 at 9), Yale Law's class of 1894 was diminutive. The yearbook "Shingle" read, "The average weight of the class is 145 pounds, the average height is five feet 7 inches."

I assume that the Yale class of 1894 was entirely white and male (I haven't got a book in front of me about it). According to the CDC, in 2003-2006 the median (50th-percentile) weight of white male Americans, aged 20-39, was about 186 pounds.  (19-year-olds may have been a little heavier.)  The difference in height was a little less profound, suggesting that modern young people are bulkier.  Median height was 70.4 inches for white males aged 20-39 (19-year-olds were a little closer to 70 inches). 


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Attempted voyeurism

The Vermont Supreme Court decided a case last year with staggering epistemological implications. State v. Devoid, 8 A.3d 1076 (Vt. 2010). A criminal defendant, memorably surnamed Devoid, was tried for voyeurism, which was specifically criminalized in Vermont in 2005. He ended up being convicted of “attempted voyeurism”; the appeals court overturned his conviction because, although he attempted to spy on a woman neighbor, he was not physically able in the event to view her naked body.

This voyeurism statute is an attempt to control what one might perceive as a modern sickness, contracted maybe from a no-holds-barred internet and from sleazy reality television. In former days young boys may have played professional wrestler, or cowboys and Indians—now they play the “Jackass” punching bag or Snooki’s hanger-on. It is so easy to capture people’s peccadilloes, and their private moments—so maybe there’s sense to a specific law like this. (See Marjorie A. Shields, “Criminal Prosecution of Video or Photographic Voyeurism,” 120 A.L.R.5th 337 (2004 & Supp. 2011); the relevant Vermont legislative report. Other states, and the federal government, criminalize photographing, making a record for possible distribution—In Vermont, just looking is criminalized. (Formerly, a voyeur might have been convicted of disorderly conduct).

To commit criminal voyeurism is to view the intimate areas of another person without that person's knowledge and consent while the person being viewed, photographed, filmed, or recorded is in a place where (or under circumstances where) he or she would have a reasonable expectation of privacy. What is an “intimate area” in the (sweater and earmuffs much of the year) state of Vermont? One of them is a woman’s breast, an unexceptionable specific; but considering decolletage, “only any portion of the female breast below the top of the areola.” 13 Vt. Stat. § 2605.

It’s interesting how the dirty parts are specified and delimited (constitutionally important because it is a good thing for a citizen to know precisely what actions are criminalized). It’s interesting to note how meager is the territory officially considered intimate (and is probably so considered by the Motion Picture Association of America, which hands out “R” ratings: genitals, pubic area, buttocks, or female breast). Imagine an old tin-type of a Victorian at the beach, or one of our future overlords’ wives who is dressed head to toe in a burka. The criminal voyeur must zero in one of these parts, which are talismans of sexuality; everything is else is acceptable to look at and to display. The lips and mouth are extremely sexual, and certainly sexualized; beautiful eyes, too. But they are exempted from the category of talismans.

According to the Vermont Supreme Court in Devoid, to be a criminal voyeur one must both intend to see naughty parts (the crime’s required mental state) and actually have seen something (the physical act). In the case of attempted voyeurism, intent must occur along with some action in furtherance of the crime. Mr. Devoid was found innocent of the intent crime for the astounding reason that there were no body parts precisely available for Mr. Devoid to see: the window to his alleged victim’s shower was set too high for even her areolas to be visible. If there are no parts available to see, then you can’t possibly take a real step towards committing the crime.

I see a much bigger problem with the accusation of voyeurism (and the eventual conviction of “attempted voyeurism”) against Mr. Devoid. The court does not address it, but Carl Devoid was standing in a place where he must have been perfectly entitled to stand, the parking lot of his apartment building. If a man stands in a place where he has a right to be, he should also be able to turn all the way around with his eyes open without fear of prosecution. I think it’s the responsibility of the victim in such a case who wants to cover-up to make sure he or she can’t be seen.