By Evelyn Norton

Did the District Court Abuse its Discretion in Denying Appellant’s Motions?

In Pitrolo v. County of Buncombe, NC, Plaintiff-Appellant Melanie Pitrolo claimed that the district court abused its discretion in denying each of her post-trial motions.  In its October 1, 2012 order the district court denied Appellant’s motion for attorney’s fees and declaratory relief.  Similarly, in its February 13, 2013 order the district court denied Appellant’s motion to recuse, first motion to vacate, and supplemental motion to vacate.

Appellant’s Title VII Claim

In 2006, Appellant sued the County of Buncombe, North Carolina, the Western North Carolina Regional Air Quality Agency (“Agency”), the Agency’s Board of Directors, and its members in their individual capacities.  Appellant alleged that the Agency violated Title VII when it considered Appellant’s gender as a motivating factor in deciding to deny Appellant a promotion to Interim Director of the Agency’s Board.

Defendant-Appellees moved for summary judgment on all claims.  On October 10, 2007, the district court granted the motion for summary judgment and dismissed Appellant’s case.

On appeal on March 11, 2009, the Fourth Circuit vacated the district court’s summary judgment grant dismissing Appellant’s gender discrimination claim and remanded for trial.  On July 22, 2009, a jury found that while Appellees did unlawfully consider Appellant’s gender as a motivating factor in its decision, Appellant would have been denied the promotion regardless of her gender.  As a result, the district court did not award any damages.

In response, Appellant moved for attorney’s fees and declaratory judgment on August 7, 2009, but the district court declined to rule on the motion and entered judgment in favor of Appellees notwithstanding the verdict.  On appeal, the Fourth Circuit held that Appellant was entitled to seek attorney’s fees and declaratory relief, but did not consider whether such relief should be granted.

During the following month, the case was reassigned to district court Judge Reidinger.  On October 1, 2012, the district court denied Appellant’s Motion for attorney’s fees and declaratory relief.  On October 19, 2012, Appellant filed a motion demanding Judge Reidinger recuse himself, a motion to vacate the October 1 order, and a supplemental motion to vacate.

Following denial of each motion, Appellant appealed once again to the Fourth Circuit alleging that the district court abused its discretion in denying all post-trial motions.

1. The Fourth Circuit Lacked Jurisdiction to Review Appellant’s Motions for Recusal and Vacatur.

The Fourth Circuit dismissed Appellant’s claim that the district court abused its discretion in denying Appellant’s motions for recusal and vacatur in the February 13, 2013 order.  Appellant first filed her Third Notice of Appeal on October 31, 2012.  However, the district court’s February 13, 2013 order was entered more than thirty days after its October 1, 2012 order.  Thus, Appellant was required to file a separate notice of appeal to challenge the later order, but failed to do so.  Accordingly, the Fourth Circuit lacked jurisdiction.

2. The District Court Did Not Abuse its Discretion in the October 1, 2012 Order.

The Fourth Circuit affirmed the district court’s denial of Appellant’s motion for attorney’s fees and declaratory relief.

First, the Fourth Circuited noted that the district court denied Appellant declaratory judgment because it believed declaratory judgment would “do little more than simply affirm the jury’s verdict,” primarily because Appellant had not been in Appellees’ employment for several years.  However, the Fourth Circuit stated that the district court should have considered factors articulated in Aetna Casualty & Surety Co. v. Ind-Com Electric Co.

Yet, in applying these factors, the Fourth Circuit still concluded that they weighed against declaratory judgment.  Specifically, under factor one, the Fourth Circuit found declaratory relief would not clarify any issue of law.  Considering factor two, the Fourth Circuit also found declaratory relief would not resolve any uncertainties.

Second, in examining the issue of attorney fees, the Fourth Circuit considered the extent of relief sought versus that obtained, whether the legal issues were significant, and whether the litigation served a public purpose.  The Fourth Circuit first noted that Appellant did not request declaratory relief until after the jury verdict.  The Court concluded that “[t]he core of Appellant’s case had little to no precedential value to the body of Title VII case law” and that Appellant did not “accomplish some public goal other than occupying the time and energy of counsel, court, and client.”  Thus, the Fourth Circuit found that the district court did not abuse its discretion in denying Appellant’s motion for attorney’s fees and declaratory relief.

Dismissed in Part and Affirmed in Part

The Fourth Circuit dismissed Appellant’s claim that the district court abused its discretion in denying Appellant’s motions for recusal and vacatur.  However, the Fourth Circuit affirmed the district court’s denial of Appellant’s motion for attorney’s fees and declaratory relief.

By: Steven Franklin

Today, in Perry v. Mail Contractors of America, Inc., the Fourth Circuit affirmed the Western District of North Carolina’s Order granting the Defendant’s Motion for Summary Judgment against a Title VII claim for wrongful termination. The Plaintiff, Craig Perry, a person of color, claimed that Mail Contractors of America, Inc. (MCA) terminated him from his position as a truck driver because of his race.

McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, sets the Fourth Circuit’s framework for a claim of discriminatory discipline. To establish a prima facie case, the plaintiff must demonstrate that (1) he engaged in prohibited conduct similar to that of a person of another race, and (2) disciplinary measures enforced against him were more severe than those enforced against the other person.

First, Mr. Perry was unable to provide evidence of a truck driver receiving less punishment for an accident similar to his. Mr. Perry was terminated because he failed to reduce his speed despite having visibly hazardous road conditions directly ahead of him. Although he did show evidence of numerous other drivers in accidents that involved other vehicles, caused property damage, or resulted in traffic citations, they did not involve the kind of culpable conduct evident in Mr. Perry’s accident.

Second, there was evidence that MCA terminated an individual who was not a member of a protected class, but was involved in a similar accident shortly after Mr. Perry’s. The employees who terminated Mr. Perry were the same ones who terminated this subsequent individual. For these reasons, Mr. Perry was unable to establish a prima facie case, and the Fourth Circuit affirmed the District Court’s Order granting MCA’s Motion for Summary Judgment.

By Joshua P. Bussen

Today, in Rome v. Development Alternatives, Inc., the Fourth Circuit affirmed the grant of summary judgment on a retaliation claim brought under Title VII. The plaintiff claimed, in the District Court of Maryland, that she had been constructively discharged by Development Alternatives, Inc., (“DAI”) after complaining about improper conduct by another employee. In granting summary judgment for the defendant, the district court held that the plaintiff, Heather Rome, had failed to present sufficient evidence to establish a prima facie case of retaliation.

Rome worked for DAI in its Venezuelan office attempting to promote democracy. While in the United States in 2008 Rome complained about one of her coworkers to DAI management. DAI responded by: issuing the coworker a warning, sponsoring team-building exercises, and sending a mentor to the Venezuelan office. Later that year Rome left work on approved leave; she would not return. Rome complained that she had to undergo surgery and was unable to come back to work. DAI told Rome that it would help her to find a position at any office she liked in the company once she was able. Eventually Rome stopped answering DAI’s calls. DAI allowed her to retain her benefits until March 2009, at which time it finally concluded that she had abandoned her employment.

Title VII of the Civil Rights act prohibits “employer retaliation on account of an employee’s having opposed, complained of, or sought remedies for, unlawful workplace discrimination.” 42 U.S.C. § 2000e–3(a). In the lower court, Rome did not present direct evidence of retaliation, therefore the district court reviewed her claim under the well know “burden-shifting framework.” Under this framework, if the plaintiff shows that “(1) she engaged in a protected activity; (2) her employer acted adversely against her; and (3) the protected activity was causally connected to the adverse action,” the burden shifts to the employer to “present a legitimate non-retaliatory reason for the alleged adverse action.” If the employer is then successful in meeting its burden, the employee has a chance to show that the proffered reason is a mere pretext. Further, “constructive discharge” takes place when a defendant employer, motivated by unlawful bias, subjects an employee to intolerable working conditions.

Rome was successful in arguing that she had engaged in a protected activity by reporting her coworker, however, the circuit court found that she had not suffered an adverse action. It further found that she had failed to produce evidence tending to prove pretext. DAI was very accommodating in offering to help Rome, she just never came back to work. On this basis, the Fourth Circuit affirmed the lower court’s grant of summary judgment for DAI.

By Kelsey Kolb

On September 24, in Hentosh v. Old Dominion University, the Fourth Circuit affirmed the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia’s order granting summary judgment to Old Dominion University (“ODU”), defendant employer, in a retaliation suit brought by an employee, Patricia Hentosh. In doing so, the Fourth Circuit held that a court retains subject matter jurisdiction over an employee’s “reasonably related” Title VII retaliation claim against her employer even if it dismisses the employee’s underlying administrative claim of discrimination for lack of subject matter jurisdiction.

Hentosh originally filed a race discrimination claim against ODU with the United States Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (“EEOC”). The EEOC dismissed her charge as untimely. In the midst of the EEOC’s investigation, Hentosh applied for tenure at ODU, but was denied. Hentosh filed suit against ODU alleging that she was denied tenure on two theories: (1) the same discrimination that she claimed in her EEOC complaint; and (2) retaliation by ODU against her for engaging in an EEOC discrimination claim.

The district court granted in part ODU’s motion to dismiss on the ground that it did not have subject matter jurisdiction over either of Hentosh’s discrimination claims. The first discrimination claim, alleging specific acts of adverse conduct by ODU, was dismissed due to Hentosh’s failure to timely file her EEOC complaint within its required 300-day window. The district court found that it lacked subject matter jurisdiction because Hentosh’s untimely complaint led to her failure to properly exhaust her administrative remedies. The second discrimination claim, alleging that ODU’s denial of tenure was discriminatorily decided, was dismissed because this claim was “neither within the scope of the charge nor reasonably related to the charge” for it to be considered as exhausting her administrative options.

The point of contention in this appeal was the district court’s denial of ODU’s motion to dismiss Hentosh’s retaliation claim. The district court cited Nealon v. Stone, 958 F.2d 584 (4th Cir. 1992), and found that Hentosh’s retaliation claim could stand without filing a new EEOC charge, and therefore, be brought for the first time in federal court. After establishing jurisdiction over the retaliation claim, the district court granted summary judgment in favor of ODU because Hentosh failed to establish that ODU only rejected her tenure application due to its desire to retaliate against her for filing the EEOC claim.

Hentosh’s appeal argued that when the district court dismissed her two discrimination claims for lack of subject matter jurisdiction, it subsequently lacked subject matter jurisdiction over her retaliation claim and therefore, committed reversible error by failing to dismiss that claim as well. Hentosh cited to Mezu v. Morgan State Univ., 367 F. App’x 385 (4th Cir. 2010), an unpublished opinion, arguing that “retaliation claims cannot ‘relate to’ discriminatory conduct alleged in an untimely EEOC charge.”

The Fourth Circuit deemed the unpublished opinion “neither controlling nor persuasive” and further, in direct conflict with Nealon, the published precedent to which it ultimately deferred. Under Nealon, “a plaintiff may raise for the first time in federal court the claim that her employer retaliated against her for filing with the EEOC in violation of Title VII.” The rationale for allowing the retaliation claim to stand alone is that the court traditionally has jurisdiction over claims that are deemed “reasonably related to” allegations in an administrative charge. The court found that Hentosh’s retaliation claim was “like or related to” the discrimination claim brought by the untimely EEOC charge.

The Fourth Circuit ultimately held that the district court properly retained and exercised subject matter jurisdiction over Hentosh’s retaliation claim because it was “reasonably related to” her prior discrimination claims—that the court would have had jurisdiction over, had she timely filed. Therefore, the court affirmed the district court’s grant of summary judgment in favor of ODU.

By Gregory S. Parks

During the week of 2 September 2013, two federal courts—the Southern District of New York and the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit—handed down striking opinions.[1]  In a nutshell, they both held that where a black employee/supervisor refers to black (or biracial) coworkers/supervisees with the use of the n-word, there can be employment discrimination under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  While the courts’ respective opinions might have been lost on or surprising to the defendants, it should not have been for several reasons.  First, courts have long considered the reality of intraracial employment discrimination.[2] This has even been the case in the context of African Americans.[3] Second, the historical legacy of the n-word should underscore the extent to which some African Americans may reasonably find the use of such language unwelcome.[4]  Third, social science suggests that the use of the n-word may reflect ill-intent even when used between African Americans.[5] Fourth, it is legally consistent—providing a clear rule for all in the employment context.[6]

In Johnson v. Carmona and STRIVE, Inc., Brandi Johnson—an African American, female employee—recorded her African American, male employer—Rob Carmona—saying:

You and (a previous employee) are just alike. Both of you are smart as s[hit], but dumb as s[hit]. You know what it is . . . both of you are n[iggers], y’all act like n[iggers] all the time . . . And I’m not saying n[iggers] as derogatory; sometimes it’s good to know when to act like a n[igger], but y’all act like n[iggas] all the time . . . both of you [are] very bright, but both [of] y’all act like n[iggers] at inappropriate times.[7]

Carmona argued that the term “nigga” could mean love or hate in black and Latino communities.  To explain, Carmona said he may describe a friend by saying, “This is my nigger for thirty years.”[8] Accordingly, he said he also used the word as a term of endearment towards Johnson.  He was trying to communicate that she was “too emotional, wrapped up in her.”[9]  Drug counselors helped him overcome heroine addiction with “tough love and tough language.”[10] As such, he simply used the word to indicate “the negative aspects of human nature.”[11]  STRIVE, Inc. argued that the word was a part of the tough love culture of the company, which was founded by Carmona to help people with troubled backgrounds find work.[12]  The jury found that use of the n-word in the workplace was discriminatory, regardless of the employer’s status as a minority or his personal understanding of the word.[13]

In Weatherly v. Alabama State University, three former university employees—Jacqueline Weatherly, Lydia Burkhalter, and Cynthia Williams—alleged they had been subjected to a hostile work environment and retaliation during their employment.[14]Weatherly testified at trial that her supervisor, LaVonette Bartley, frequently used the n-word in the workplace.[15]  Bartley commonly made comments in Weatherly’s presence like, “I’m tired of nigger shit.”[16]  She referred to ASU’s bus service as the “nigger bus line.”[17] Upset with Weatherly’s apparent inability to multitask, Bartley informed Weatherly that she was “sick and tired of this nigger shit.”[18]  Burkhalter, who is biracial, testified that Bartley also said, “they [aren’t anything] but some niggas”[19] and called Burkhalter’s seven-year-old son a “nigger.”[20]  Williams testified that Bartley commonly referred to her as a “nigger”[21] with comments such as “talk to the nigger side of the hand because the white side does not want to hear it” and “we [have] to dress professional; we don’t dress like niggers.”[22]  The jury held for the plaintiffs, and the Eleventh Circuit affirmed.[23]

While these holdings may seem surprising to the defendants and to some who rationalize African American’s right to use the n-word amongst and toward one another, it should be unremarkable. First, courts have long acknowledged the fact that there can be intra-racial employment discrimination.  Under the third-party associative discrimination doctrine, it is plausible that, for example, a white supervisor might discriminate against a white employee for being in a romantic relationship with a black person.[24]  In Ellis v. United Parcel Service, Inc., while not framed as a third-party associative discrimination case, the Seventh Circuit contemplated an intra-racial employment discrimination case between African Americans.[25]  Gerald Ellis, an African American manager at UPS, sued the company because of negative comments from and termination at the hands of African American supervisors for having dated and then married a white, hourly employee.[26]  He ultimately lost on summary judgment motion, which was affirmed, in large measure because he had violated UPS’ non-fraternization policy.[27]

Second, in Harris v. Forklift, the U.S. Supreme Court recognized the reasonable person standard as the basis for determining whether unwelcome conduct is sufficiently pervasive and severe to constitute employment discrimination.[28]  While the n-word has found a welcome home in certain parts of black popular culture,[29] it has a negative history and negative connotation.[30] In Lee Daniel’s recent and popular film, The Butler—about Cecil Gaines, an African American butler who worked in the White House—when Gaines tells his older African American mentor, Maynard, that Gaines would make a good “house nigger,” Maynard slaps him.[31] Maynard goes on to tell him that the word “nigger” is “a white man’s word, it’s filled with hate.”[32]  Such a finding is echoed in the law.[33]  Not surprisingly, some African Americans find the term patently offensive.

Third, implicit social cognition research indicates that individuals tend to automatically, i.e., subconsciously, associate racial categories with positive or negative concepts.  Most people tend to have a prowhite subconscious bias.  For instance, 71% of whites, 67% of Asians, and 60% of Hispanics automatically associate positive things with whites and negative things with blacks.[34] Surprisingly, 32% of African Americans do the same.[35]  Even more, prowhite subconscious biases predict the use of slurs against racial minorities.[36]  While this research did not focus on African Americans and their use of the n-word, it provides some indicia that racial hostility may undergird the use of the n-word by some African Americans.

Fourth, these cases, in an essential way, underscore the call for consistency in tolerance, or lack thereof, in the use of the n-word in the employment context laid down by the Eastern District of Pennsylvania in 2010.  In Burlington v. News Corporation,[37] a Caucasian employee brought a reverse discrimination case against his employer, which had terminated him after he used the n-word in front of several colleagues at an editorial meeting.  The defendant employer unsuccessfully moved for summary judgment. The judge began his analysis by noting that the n-word’s meaning varies in “color and content according to the circumstances and the time in which it is used.”[38]  In analyzing the historical and current usage of the n-word, the judge acknowledged that Caucasians have used the word as a tool of oppression while African Americans have used the n-word in an ironic or affectionate way.  Ultimately, the judge determined that it was unjustifiable to allow the employer draw race-based distinctions between employees because such action would run counter to Title VII’s purpose.

The two recent federal court cases about the intraracial use of the n-word and what it means under Title VII were correctly decided.  Federal courts have clearly articulated that employment discrimination can lie between parties of the same race.  The word can reasonably be construed as offensive by African Americans, no matter who says it.  Even more, implicit social cognition research underscores that such slurs may flow from a place of antiblack sentiment, possibly among African Americans themselves. Lastly, the rule that emerges from these cases underscores the demand for consistency in prohibiting the use of the n-word in the employment context established in other jurisdictions. It is incredulous that the defendants in these two cases thought that they had a strong case. They should have settled!


        [1].   Weatherly v. Ala. State Univ., 728 F.3d 1263, 1265–66 (11th Cir. 2013); Larry Neumeister, New York Jury Punishes Use of Racial Slur by Black, Defendant Loses Lawsuit, Plaintiff Cites Degradation, Boston Globe (Sept. 4, 2013), http://www.bostonglobe.com/news/nation/2013/09/03/case-puts-word-use
-among-blacks-trial/CKTcxBY0aZqUADqBfv0oQJ/comments.html.

        [2].   See infra notes 25–28 and accompanying text.

        [3].   See infra notes 25–28 and accompanying text.

        [4].   See infra notes 29–34 and accompanying text.

        [5].   See infra notes 35–37 and accompanying text.

        [6].   See infra notes 38–39 and accompanying text.

        [7].   Erinn Cawthon & Kristina Sgueglia, Black Boss’s N-word Rant To Black Employee Costs Him, Nonprofit $280,000, CNN (Sept. 4, 2013, 9:17 AM), http://www.cnn.com/2013/09/03/us/new-york-racial-slur-lawsuit/.

        [8].   Larry Neumeister, Case Against Rob Carmona, STRIVE East Harlem Founder, Questions Use of N-Word Among Blacks, Huff Post: Black Voices (Sept. 3, 2013, 8:22 PM), http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/03/rob
-carmona-strive-east-harlem-founder_n_3859573.html.

        [9].   Id.

      [10].   Id.

      [11].   Id.

      [12].   Id.

      [13].   Id.

      [14].   728 F.3d 1263, 1266 (11th Cir. 2013).

      [15].   Id.

      [16].   Id.

      [17].   Id.

      [18].   Id.

      [19].   Id. at 1267.

      [20].   Id.

      [21].   Id. at 1268.

      [22].   Id.

      [23].   Id. at 1266.

      [24].   See Gregory S. Parks & Quinetta M. Roberson, Michelle Obama: A Contemporary Analysis of Race and Gender Discrimination through the Lens of Title VII, 20 Hastings Women’s L.J. 3, 35–37 (2009) (discussing cases illustrating the third-party associative discrimination doctrine).

      [25].   523 F.3d 823, 824–25 (7th Cir. 2008).

      [26].   Id. at 824.

      [27].   Id. at 826, 830.

      [28].   510 U.S. 17, 22 (1993).

      [29].   Gregory S. Parks & Shayne E. Jones, “Nigger”: A Critical Race Realist Analysis of the N-word Within Hate Crimes Law, 98 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 1305, 1321–33 (2008).

      [30].   Id. at 1316.

      [31].   Lee Daniels’ The Butler Quotes: Clunky but Earnest, MovieQuotesandMore.com, available athttp://www.moviequotesandmore.com
/the-butler-quotes.html.

      [32].   Id.

      [33].   See Randall Kennedy, Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word 56–112 (2002) (discussing the use of the n-word in the courtroom in a chapter titled “Nigger in Court”).

      [34].   Anthony G. Greenwald & Linda Hamilton Krieger, Implicit Bias: Scientific Foundations, 94 Cal. L. Rev. 945, 958 (2006).

      [35].   Id.

      [36].   Laurie A. Rudman & Richard D. Ashmore, Discrimination and the Implicit Association Test, 10 Group Processes & Intergroup Rel. 359, 363 (2007).

      [37].   759 F. Supp. 2d 580 (E.D. Pa. 2010).

      [38].   Id. at 596 (citing Towne v. Eisner, 245 U.S. 418, 425 (1918)).

By: Michael Selmi*

Introduction

The Civil Rights Act of 1991 (“CRA”) sought to change the employment discrimination landscape.  The CRA overturned or repudiated eight Supreme Court decisions that had narrowed the scope of Title VII in a way that Congress determined was inconsistent with the broad purpose of eradicating employment discrimination.[1]  Relatedly, the CRA transformed Title VII from an equitable relief statute—under which attorneys were most commonly compensated through attorney fee petitions—to a tort-like statute that allows for jury trials and damages for claims relating to intentional discrimination.  The CRA also marked the most comprehensive amendment to the original Civil Rights Act; although Title VII had been amended several times previously, the CRA was, by far, the most substantial amendment then or now.[2]

In this Article, I will explore the effect the CRA has had on employment discrimination litigation, primarily in the Supreme Court, but I will also glance toward litigation in the lower courts.  Based on a review of the Title VII cases and other related cases the Court has decided over the last twenty years,[3] it appears that the CRA had a meaningful restraining effect on the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence.  Since the CRA was passed, the Court has generally, though by no means always, been more supportive of plaintiffs’ Title VII claims than it had been in the years immediately preceding the CRA.  There is, however, an important caveat: in the most ideological cases, or those cases that might have the most dramatic effect on litigation, the Court has remained decidedly pro-defendant.  In other words, in the most meaningful cases, plaintiffs continue to encounter a hostile Supreme Court.  It also appears that the changes wrought by the CRA did not substantially improve outcomes for plaintiffs, though there was, especially in the early years, a dramatic increase in filings.  On the whole, plaintiffs have fared only marginally better on the merits, and employment discrimination cases continue to be more difficult to win than most other comparable civil cases.

This Article will proceed in two primary parts.  The first Part will explore the cases that preceded the CRA and introduce the positive political theory framework through which I want to analyze the Court’s response.  Positive political theory sees the relationship between the judicial, legislative, and executive branches as a political game designed to assert preferences; several scholars have assessed the origins of the CRA against the positive political theory framework.[4]  The second Part of the Article will go beyond those analyses to assess the Supreme Court’s response to see how the Court has adopted a strategically sophisticated approach that has diverged significantly from its interpretative path prior to the CRA.

I. The Making of the Civil Rights Act of 1991

The history behind the CRA is well known and I will provide only a cursory outline, some of which is informed by my experiences as a staff attorney with the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights at the time the Act was under consideration.  Although I played a rather minor monitoring role, the Lawyers’ Committee and my direct supervisor, Rick Seymour, were heavily involved in the drafting and negotiating of the legislation, and I later became enmeshed in some of the early litigation interpreting the CRA.

During the 1980s, the Supreme Court took a deeply conservative turn on issues of civil rights, particularly with respect to employment discrimination.  The Court repeatedly reached adverse results for plaintiffs, and even in cases in which the plaintiffs prevailed, the Court would often impose significant limitations on the employment discrimination doctrine.[5]  There were a substantial number of cases that limited the rights of plaintiffs, but three cases decided during the 1989 term were particularly important in prompting congressional action.

Probably the most significant departure from prior precedent came in the case of Patterson v. McLean Credit Union, in which the Court severely restricted the scope of § 1981.[6]  The statute had never been a major source of employment rights, but it was one of the original civil rights statutes enacted during Reconstruction, and it had a long history that the Supreme Court effectively ignored in holding that the statute only applied to contract formation, and not to acts of discrimination that occurred thereafter.[7]  Not only did the Court limit the statute’s reach, it did so aggressively and on its own initiative.  After the case was initially briefed and argued on the question of the statute’s scope, the Court, on its own motion, called for reargument on whether the statute should apply to private parties, an issue the Supreme Court had addressed in Runyon v. McCrary[8] just a decade earlier and that the parties had not raised.[9]  Ultimately, the Court backed away from that radical reinterpretation, in part because of an outpouring of briefs and critical public reaction,[10] but the Court’s gesture, and its limitation of the statutory scope, sent a signal that settled civil rights principles were up for reconsideration.

During the same term, the Court also rewrote the law with respect to class action settlements.  In Martin v. Wilks, a group of white firefighters sought to intervene in a case that had been resolved through a consent decree many years earlier.[11]  The white firefighters sought to challenge the remedial provisions in the decree, which they argued impermissibly limited their opportunities within the fire department; by a five-to-four vote, the Court permitted the intervention, even though the firefighters had the opportunity to contest the decree when it was originally entered.[12]  This meant that, despite the Court’s frequent admonitions regarding the importance of finality in litigation, it would often be difficult to determine when a settlement embodied in a consent decree could be assumed to be final and free from challenge.  It also meant that a new group of firefighters could challenge settlements that their predecessors had accepted.[13]

The Wilks case also offers important context for understanding the Court’s direction during this time period.  The consent decree at issue in Wilks provided for preferential treatment of African American firefighters as part of the remedies that had been incorporated into the decree.[14]  The case therefore became part of the affirmative action debate that was raging throughout much of the 1980s, and was seen as integral to the Reagan administration’s broader assault on civil rights and affirmative action.[15]  Even though the administration had been unsuccessful in many of the cases,[16] the Wilks case was seen as giving a green light to efforts to dismantle remedial orders.[17]  From this perspective, the Court’s decision was fully consistent with the position espoused by the Reagan administration—and to a lesser extent by the Bush administration—and the Democratic Congress became concerned with what the future might hold.[18]

While Wilks and Patterson reflected the Court’s hostility toward employment discrimination claims, the coup de grâce came with the Court’s decision in Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, a complicated case in which the Court rewrote part of the disparate impact law to place the burden of proof of the business-necessity defense squarely on the plaintiffs.[19]  Although the Court’s decision was seen as a significant change in the law, it had also become clear that a majority was developing on the Court in favor of eliminating the disparate impact theory altogether—a theory the Court had created in common law fashion in its landmark Griggs decision.[20]  Like Wilks, Wards Cove was also seen as indirectly connected with the affirmative action debate, given that the disparate impact theory had often, and mistakenly, been seen as prompting employers to adopt quotas as a way of avoiding litigation.[21]  The Wards Cove case was decided on the last day of the same term that produced the Wilks and Patterson decisions; shortly after the term ended, Congress began work on what was then dubbed the Civil Rights Act of 1990.[22]

While the three cases discussed above played the strongest role in motivating Congress to act, the Court issued a number of other controversial decisions on smaller issues, all of which made it more difficult for discrimination plaintiffs to obtain relief on their claims.  Some of the issues involved interest on judgments and awards of expert fees,[23] while others involved the timing of claims[24] or the extraterritorial application of Title VII.[25]  Together these cases represented a clear hostility to the interests of plaintiffs—a hostility that became particularly apparent when seen in connection with a series of nonemployment discrimination cases decided at the same time that reflected a broader hostility to civil rights claims, particularly in the area of affirmative action.[26]  When we turn to an assessment of the effects of the CRA, it is important to keep these smaller cases in mind, as in the 1980s no case seemed too small for the Court to side with employers.

Once the legislation began to move through Congress, several obstacles became apparent.  With President George H.W. Bush in office, the Democratically controlled Senate had to secure the votes necessary to overcome a presidential veto.  Many of the proposed provisions were uncontroversial, and there was also widespread agreement that Title VII plaintiffs should be afforded jury trials with damages available.[27]  At the same time, a group of Republican Senators were intent on making the bill part of a larger tort-reform effort and therefore sought to place caps on the damages provisions.[28]  Among some in Congress, there was a sense that capping the damages in Title VII cases would lead to damage caps in other federal statutes, although efforts to impose broader tort reform stalled shortly after the passage of the CRA.[29]

The most controversial part of the legislation was the provision designed to overturn the Wards Cove decision.  As I have argued elsewhere, the disparate impact theory has always rested uneasily within antidiscrimination law and it has likewise always been equated with affirmative action, an issue that was particularly divisive at the time.[30]  The Supreme Court, and politicians, had cautioned against aggressive interpretations of the disparate impact law for fear that employers would be forced to adopt quotas as a way to avoid lawsuits.[31]  This always seemed mostly a specious argument given that the disparate impact theory had been in existence since 1971, with reasonably aggressive interpretations in the 1970s, without any hint of broadscale quota-motivated hiring.[32]  In any event, the rhetoric proved powerful and the disparate impact provisions became hotly contested and produced a series of innovative legislative provisions.

Within the Senate, a debate broke out regarding whether Wards Cove was truly a departure from past precedent, eventually leading to dueling legislative memoranda that were written primarily by interest groups.[33]  At least in this particular instance, Justice Scalia’s theory of statutory interpretation was given full credence, as the memoranda were naked attempts to influence how the statute should be interpreted almost entirely independent of the legislators themselves, though not independent of their staffs, which had been deeply involved in the process.[34]  As a result, the Senate inserted a most peculiar provision into the statute forbidding courts from looking to the legislative history.[35]  The Wards Cove company also got its hands in the legislative cookie jar, as it was worried that the legislative fix might undo its ten-year victory, and the company eventually purchased its own statutory provision that exempted the Wards Cove case from the legislation.[36]

Despite all of the legislative maneuvering, the controversy refused to die, and President Bush vetoed the Civil Rights Act of 1990 due to the disparate impact provision.[37]  Congress failed in its override attempt but immediately set out to craft a new bill, although the prospects for passage remained dim until the Clarence Thomas hearings intervened.[38]  While Congress was debating what was then known as the Civil Rights Act of 1991, Anita Hill’s allegations of sexual harassment surfaced, which led to a public debate over the emerging sexual harassment doctrine.  Those hearings ultimately contributed to the passage of the CRA; indeed, I think it is fair to say that without the hearings, there may not have been a CRA.[39]  There were two reasons for this connection.  First, Missouri Senator John Danforth was both a Republican sponsor of the CRA and the shepherd for Clarence Thomas, who had worked for the Senator many years earlier in the Missouri Attorney General’s office.[40]  After the Anita Hill allegations arose, Senator Danforth pledged to ensure Thomas’s nomination and the passage of the CRA—a pledge he ultimately lived up to.[41]

Second, and sometimes lost in the story, was the realization during the hearings that victims of sexual harassment were often left without any meaningful remedy.  Not only did civil rights advocates have Justice Thomas to thank for the passage of the CRA, Judge Daniel Manion from the Seventh Circuit also chipped in with his own contribution.[42]  In a case involving clear and uncontested sexual harassment, Diane Swanson had been denied any relief since she did not lose her job and therefore did not suffer monetary loss.[43]  Not content to simply deny her relief, the Seventh Circuit went on to conclude that because she was not eligible for any relief, she had no claim and therefore was responsible for the defendant’s court costs, which were taken directly out of her paycheck.[44]

As noted at the outset, the CRA overturned parts or all of eight Supreme Court decisions, and it added important new remedial provisions to the statute.[45]  Equally important, the CRA sent a strong signal that Congress believed the Court was interpreting Title VII too narrowly, and there was language to this effect included in the statutory preface.[46]  The debate over the Act occurred in a very public forum over the course of two years and tainted the arrival of the Court’s newest member.  All of this is to suggest that it would have been difficult for the Supreme Court to ignore the message behind the CRA, but it was less clear whether the Act would have its intended effect.  Some of the provisions were effectively self-executing: the interest and attorney’s fees provisions allowed for little judicial interpretation, and the provision designed to overturn Martin v. Wilks also turned out to be a clear directive that produced no meaningful subsequent litigation.  But the real question was whether the Supreme Court would take Congress’s broader message seriously and interpret Title VII with an eye toward fulfilling the underlying purpose of the CRA rather than with an eye toward protecting employers.

The message sent by—as opposed to the substantive provisions of—the 1991 Act raises important questions about the relationship between Congress and the Court.  Here Congress was not only reversing specific decisions but was also seeking to change the Court’s interpretive direction.  Congress’s oversight powers, however, are limited; Congress could always pass new legislation to change or modify Supreme Court decisions, but short of new legislation the Court is largely free to ignore congressional directives.  Suggesting that the Court is free to ignore congressional directives assumes that the Court may have its own interests or preferences in mind in interpreting statutes.  Most scholars who concentrate on statutory interpretation assume that a court’s judicial duty is to interpret the statute consistent with congressional intent, with the primary area of contention being what Congress intended.[47]  Positive political theorists, on the other hand, treat courts as political actors who desire to implement their own preferences; these theorists typically see modes of statutory interpretation as rhetorical, rather than restraining.[48]  Numerous empirical scholars have also documented that courts frequently decide cases based on judges’ presumed ideological preferences.[49]  For a conservative court, when it comes to issues of employment discrimination, those preferences are most likely to include insulating employers from liability, and as we have just seen, that was how the pre-CRA Court proceeded.

Yet the Court was ultimately unsuccessful, and within the positive political theory framework, a court that wants to implement its preferences must avoid having its decisions overturned.  As a strategic matter, this can lead to some complex analysis, as the Supreme Court would be primarily concerned not with the Congress that enacted a statute but with the current Congress that would be responsible for passing any new legislation, and, similarly, with the President who might veto the legislation.[50]  Under this guise, the Court clearly played the game poorly in its discrimination decisions of the late 1980s, since those decisions all had a very short shelf life.  In light of the CRA’s repudiation of those decisions, we might expect the Supreme Court to change its game plan.  As we will see, that is precisely what it did—and it did so in a strategic way that has protected most of the decisions the Court seems to care most about.

II. The Post-1991 Act Cases

This Part will assess the Supreme Court’s behavior following the passage of the CRA in 1991 and will demonstrate that the Court has acted as positive political theory would predict.  Apparently chastened by the CRA rebuke, the Court has proceeded more wisely, ruling for plaintiffs in the majority of cases, often unanimously, while siding with the interests of employers in the cases that matter most.  During this time period, from 1993 to 2009, the Court’s composition has changed but it has remained a fundamentally conservative Court, one that arguably is more conservative than the Court that issued the decisions that led to the CRA.[51]  It is important, however, to highlight the Court’s process—many of the cases the Court has adjudicated over the last two decades have raised rather minor issues, and a surprising number of cases were simply necessary to reverse plainly incorrect lower court cases.  In these minor cases, the plaintiffs have uniformly prevailed.  But there were also a handful of controversial and important cases, and in those cases the defendants have prevailed, suggesting that the Court was still willing to implement its preferences, at the risk of reversal, in the cases of greatest significance.  Finally, there were cases addressing issues of intermediate importance in which the plaintiffs fared well, and it is in this handful of cases that the Court likely exercised the most judicial restraint.

Before discussing the cases, I must address several preliminary matters.  As noted previously, I have excluded disability cases from the analysis, primarily because the CRA was not aimed at the disability statute.  The Court unquestionably interpreted the ADA narrowly, and Congress recently passed legislation intended to modify the Court’s approach in several of the cases;[52] it will be interesting to see how the Court responds, and if the CRA offers any guidance to the Court’s likely reaction to the statutory repudiation.  I have also excluded most of the cases that involve arbitration agreements since the cases have primarily involved interpretation of a different statute—the Federal Arbitration Act[53]—or issues not directly related to discrimination claims.[54]  I have, however, included the several cases that directly involve discrimination issues.  Finally, I should note that classifying several of the cases has required subjective determinations as to who prevailed in a case, and also as to whom the doctrine is most likely to benefit.  I will highlight where I have made such judgments.

Immediately following the passage of the CRA, the Supreme Court appeared to be up to its old tricks.  The first two cases the Supreme Court addressed involved the retroactivity of the statute—specifically, whether the CRA applied to cases that were pending at the time of enactment.[55]  In both cases, the Court held that the CRA did not apply retroactively but instead only applied to controversies that arose after it was passed.[56]  This effectively delayed implementation for several years.  Notably, however, both decisions were written by Justice Stevens with Justice Blackmun as the lone dissenter, and there was substantial support for the Court’s decision both in the legislative history, which was purposefully left unresolved, and in the body of law that had developed regarding the retroactive application of legislation.[57]  The Court also decided the controversial St. Mary’s Honor Center v. Hicks case after the CRA was passed, but the case itself had little to do with the statute even though the Court’s decision made it more difficult for plaintiffs to prevail in certain cases.[58]  Yet if we view Hicks as part of the post-CRA history, the Court’s treatment is consistent with the pattern we observe in other cases—namely, that the most significant cases remain solidly in the defendants’ camp.

After Hicks, the Court heard a series of cases in which plaintiffs prevailed, often through unanimous decisions.  In Appendix A, I provide a list of the cases decided since the CRA was passed, noting the party that prevailed, the year the case was decided, and the Supreme Court vote breakdown.  The results are revealing: the Supreme Court decided forty-three cases in connection with Title VII, the ADEA, and § 1981, and in twenty-nine, or 67.4%, of those decisions found in favor of the plaintiffs.  The defendants prevailed in thirteen, or 30.2%, of the cases.[59]  Of the forty-three decisions, twenty were unanimous, 46.5% of the total, and, remarkably, eighteen of the unanimous decisions were in favor of plaintiffs.  Indeed, nearly two thirds (62.1%) of the decisions favoring plaintiffs were unanimous.[60]

Table 1: Employment Discrimination Cases Decided 1993–2010

Decision Plaintiff Defendant
Prevail 29 13
Unanimous 18 2
5–4 1 5

 

The high number of unanimous decisions in favor of plaintiffs offers a sharp contrast to the Court’s decisions rendered prior to the CRA.  During the period 1986–1989, there were five unanimous decisions and all but one had a significant concurring opinion supporting a more limited approach.[61]  Interestingly, none of the unanimous decisions were issued during 1989, when the Court was most active in limiting the scope of Title VII.[62]  In terms of substance, only one of the unanimous cases involved race discrimination, while three involved important issues relating to sex discrimination.  In contrast, the cases that most clearly prompted the CRA—Patterson, Wilks, and, to an extent, Wards Cove—all involved issues of race discrimination, as was true for most of the controversial affirmative action cases that arose during this time period.[63]

 

Table 2: Employment Discrimination Cases Decided 1987–1991

Decision Plaintiff Defendant
Prevail 10 12
Unanimous 5 0
5–4 1 3
6–3 2 4

 

The substantial rise in unanimous decisions not only represents a change in course for the Supreme Court but also highlights an important issue embedded in these cases—namely, just how conservative some of the lower courts have become.  Perhaps more accurately, the cases indicate how much more conservative some of the lower courts are compared to what is generally viewed as a very conservative Supreme Court.  While it is difficult to draw any conclusions based on this small sample, it is worth noting that of the eighteen unanimous decisions, eleven originated from the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Circuits, with the Sixth leading the way with five unanimous reversals.  Only one of the unanimous decisions was an outright affirmance, and that was the mixed-motives case Desert Palace, Inc. v. Costa,[64] which arose out of the Ninth Circuit, often considered the most liberal appellate court.  Some of the cases involved appellate decisions that were clearly outliers and were essentially summarily reversed.  For example, the Fourth Circuit held that to establish a prima facie age discrimination claim, an individual had to demonstrate that she had been replaced by someone outside of the protected class, a holding that had no support in the statutory language and that the Supreme Court reversed in a seven-paragraph opinion.[65]  The same court also held that former employees could not bring Title VII claims, excising from the statute anyone who was no longer employed.[66]  This latter case had some resemblance to the Supreme Court’s decision in Patterson—as both cases involved the scope of the statute—and suggests that the Supreme Court may have taken seriously Congress’s directive to interpret the statutes consistently with their underlying purposes.

Perhaps the most interesting of the unanimous decisions reversing a hostile lower court was a case that involved racial epithets.  In Ash v. Tyson Foods, Inc., the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals had held that the use of “boy,” when directed at an African American man, was not evidence of discriminatory intent unless it was qualified by a racial term such as “black.”[67]  In a per curiam rebuke, the Supreme Court rejected the need for the racial qualifier, noting that whether the term was evidence of discrimination should be considered within its context and in conjunction with additional evidence the plaintiff produced.[68]  In the same case, the Court also rejected the appellate court’s standard—that pretext could only be established by comparison to the employer’s treatment of others to the extent the “disparity in qualifications is so apparent as virtually to jump off the page and slap you in the face.”[69]  Despite the Supreme Court’s sound rejection, the Eleventh Circuit recently reaffirmed a dismissal of the case, albeit under slightly different legal standards.[70]

Another noteworthy aspect of the unanimous cases is that most of the cases were of minor significance.  Several had to do with procedural issues that had not been resolved in the thirty-year history of Title VII, such as the requirements for verifying a complaint and the method for counting employees to meet the statutory coverage requirement.[71]  The Supreme Court decided only two cases during the Wards Cove era that presented similar interpretive questions,[72] and in these and other cases, the Court has recently taken a pragmatic rather than literal linguistic approach.  This was true in the Court’s definition of “employee” and its determination that the number of employees is not a jurisdictional issue, even though there were substantial arguments in support of the other side on both issues.[73]  In the earlier era, it seems quite likely that the Court would have ruled differently, or, more likely, allowed the lower court decisions to stand without review.[74]

Not all of the unanimous cases have turned on minor issues.  The Court held that Title VII prohibits same-sex harassment,[75] an issue that had caused considerable havoc in the lower courts; tossed aside any remnant of the pretext-plus issue;[76] and in two cases, crafted quite liberal principles of law relating to retaliation claims.[77]  Indeed, if there has been any major and surprising turn of events, it has been the Supreme Court’s protective approach to retaliation claims.  Plaintiffs have prevailed in all five retaliation claims the Court has considered, and the Court has adopted an expansive interpretation of the statute in each case.  In one of the cases, the Court had to identify a retaliation claim when the statute was arguably silent or at best ambiguous on the issue.[78]  These cases have helped spark a sharp rise in retaliation claims, but despite that increase, the Court has not sought to cut back on its broad interpretations, and it is difficult to see the Court as anything other than genuinely protective of retaliation claims.[79]

The plaintiff-friendly cases demonstrate that the Supreme Court has moved in a direction that has been more protective of victims of discrimination, but there is an important countertrend that offers a clear balance and also suggests that the Court may be playing a sophisticated political game.  In the most significant cases—including the sole employment case to touch on questions relating to affirmative action[80]—the defendants continue to prevail, and often by five-to-four majorities.  In these cases, the Court continues to impose its preferences, but now does so while also issuing a series of pro-plaintiff decisions, most of which likely do not implicate clear preferences of the Court.  There have been five decisions in favor of defendants by a five-to-four margin, and at least four of the cases are among the most significant decided since the CRA.[81]  As noted previously, the Supreme Court began the post-CRA era with a five-to-four decision in St. Mary’s Honor Center v. Hicks, in which it held that proof of pretext leads to a permissive inference of discrimination rather than the mandatory presumption advocated by the plaintiffs and adopted by the lower court.[82]  That decision also kept alive the damaging pretext-plus theory, though only by disingenuous lower court interpretations, which the Supreme Court abrogated nearly a decade later.[83]

More recently, the Supreme Court has issued several controversial decisions favoring defendants.  In Ricci v. DeStefano, the conservative majority of the Court invalidated an employer’s voluntary efforts to remedy the adverse impact of several promotion tests it had administered.[84]  Reverting to its Wards Cove days, the Court deemed the tests valid even though the tests had not been subject to any legal scrutiny and despite strong arguments that the tests could not be validated under existing law.[85]  The Ricci case has drawn considerable attention and harkens back to the assault on affirmative action from the 1980s, as the Court appeared to view the city’s remedial action as akin to instituting racial preferences for the minority firefighters.[86]  The following term, the Court also held that the mixed-motives theory, often seen as a boon to plaintiffs, was not available under the ADEA, even though the language at issue in the ADEA was quite similar to the language in Title VII that permits such claims.[87]  The difference in results between cases decided under Title VII and the ADEA may be a sign that statutory language can, in fact, restrain the Court.  Although the Court announced a liberal standard for Title VII claims based on language from the CRA, that language did not apply to the ADEA, leaving the Court free to implement its preference on age claims.

 

Table 3: Five-to-Four Decisions: 1993–2010

  • St. Mary’s Honor Center v. Hicks
  • Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co.
  • Kentucky Retirement Systems v. EEOC
  • Ricci v. DeStefano
  • Gross v. FBL Financial Services, Inc.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The other noteworthy five-to-four decision reveals that the Court can still overplay its hand.  In the only employment discrimination case to receive more attention than Ricci, the Supreme Court held that Lilly Ledbetter had waited too long to file her wage discrimination claim.[88]  There were, to be sure, some pragmatic aspects to the case that led the Court to side with the employer.  However, in doing so, the Court imposed a restrictive standard that would have likely foreclosed most wage discrimination claims since it can often take employees years to learn that pay raises were issued in a discriminatory fashion.  In her dissenting opinion, Justice Ginsburg called on Congress to act,[89] and it quickly did so.  Just over a year after the decision was issued, the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act (“Fair Pay Act”) became the first bill President Barack Obama signed into law, thus reversing the Supreme Court’s decision and likely expanding the statute of limitations beyond what had existed in most of the lower courts.[90]  The case, and the subsequent Fair Pay Act, also drew attention to the issue of pay equity in a way the Court likely did not intend, and there is little question that to the extent the Court was seeking to insulate employers from wage discrimination claims, its Ledbetter decision ultimately had the opposite effect.[91]  Nevertheless, the unintended consequences may prove more theoretical than real, as to date there has not been any significant increase in wage claims, and a bill to address pay equity issues has failed to gain traction.[92]

I should also note that rather than overplaying its hand, the Supreme Court may have misjudged future election results.  The Ledbetter decision was issued toward the end of the Bush presidency but before the Democrats took over the presidency and both houses of Congress.  It is certainly possible that had the decision been issued the following year, the Court may have sought a more moderate path, although its decision in the Ricci case may suggest otherwise.  There is, however, an important distinction between those two cases: Ledbetter was purely a matter of statutory interpretation and relatively easy to overturn, while Ricci represented an amalgam of interpretations of past Supreme Court precedent with overlays of constitutional considerations.  The Ricci case also involved race, whereas Ledbetter presented a more appealing sex discrimination claim that was ripe for congressional review.

In addition to the unanimous decisions for plaintiffs and the five-to-four decisions for defendants, there was a series of cases decided by various margins and also a set of cases in which it was difficult to determine what party would ultimately come out ahead.  These latter cases included three in which the Court provided a legal standard that was generally protective of plaintiff interests, and then carved out an affirmative defense to encourage employers to take precautionary measures.[93]  The Court first took this step in a pair of sexual harassment cases in which it crafted an affirmative defense out of thin air—but a defense that also seemed consistent with the purpose behind the CRA, which is to prevent rather than remedy harassment.[94]  What is perhaps most revealing is that although the language of the affirmative defense should make it difficult for employers to proceed, lower courts have frequently construed the defense more broadly so as to deny plaintiffs relief.[95]  In another case—this one unanimous—the Supreme Court resolved a long-standing split in the circuits by holding that the age discrimination statute permitted disparate impact claims, while creating a very loose standard for employers to justify their practices.[96]

Viewed in their entirety, the cases decided after 1991 reveal a decidedly different Supreme Court from the one that prompted passage of the CRA.  The current Court seems more moderate and less hostile to employment discrimination plaintiffs and remarkably protective of the right to be free from retaliation, but at the same time continues to implement its own preferences when it matters the most.  As a matter of positive political theory, the Court has responded not with timidity but in a strategically sophisticated fashion, and most of its decisions have remained in force.  In other words, the CRA provided a meaningful but not total restraint on the Court’s impulses.

III. The 1991 Act and the Lower Courts

Although the CRA appears to have restrained the Supreme Court, it has had significantly less force in the lower courts.  While I will not go into great detail to demonstrate the hostility to employment discrimination claims at the appellate level, I will highlight three different indicators.  One has already been discussed, and that is the number of cases in which the Supreme Court unanimously reversed lower courts.  In addition, appellate courts have created a number of legal doctrines that make it more difficult for plaintiffs to prove their cases.  Many of the doctrines are evidentiary in nature, but all of them make it more, rather than less, difficult for plaintiffs to prevail.  These doctrines include the creation of a fourth element of the prima facie case that requires plaintiffs (in some circuits) to prove that there is a similarly situated individual who was treated differently, with strict requirements governing who will satisfy the requirement; the stray remarks doctrine; and the same actor inference.[97]  Equally important, no evidentiary rule or legal doctrine has arisen that favors plaintiffs, with the possible exception of some of the emerging case law regarding mixed-motives claims.[98]

Perhaps the strongest indicator of the difficulty plaintiffs face in lower courts is revealed by the many studies that have documented low success rates both at trial and on appeal.  In her Symposium contribution, Professor Wendy Parker surveys the studies,[99] and I will only add a brief summary of my own.  The various studies are all consistent in their findings—more employment discrimination cases go to trial than do other kinds of cases, but plaintiffs typically have a lower success rate.  Plaintiffs succeed in somewhere between 35–40% of their cases tried before a jury, with a significantly lower success rate before a judge.[100]  Even though most cases are now tried before juries, this latter finding is important because judges handle the pre- and post-trial motions, and plaintiffs tend to have a low success rate in defending summary judgment motions.[101]  The data also demonstrate that employment discrimination plaintiffs fare worse than other civil plaintiffs both at trial and on appeal.[102]

It might be that the lower success rates reflect weaker cases, but it is not at all clear why this might be so.  There is no clear reason why employees would file weaker cases, particularly given the filtering process that requires individuals to first proceed through the federal EEOC or the state analogue.[103]  While there may be a higher number of pro se plaintiffs, the absolute number remains very small, and very few ever get to trial.[104]  The settlement values are also typically modest,[105] so these cases should not be particularly attractive to profit-motivated attorneys, though the availability of attorney’s fees might be an additional incentive.  Nevertheless, if the monetary value is not the inducement, the prospect of success surely should be, and again, unless the cases were worth significantly more, attorneys should have the same incentives to bring strong employment discrimination claims as they would to bring other civil cases.[106]  It also strikes me as problematic to assume it is the cases rather than the judges that drive the disparate results—it seems to me the burden should be on explaining what those differences might be rather than simply suggesting employment discrimination cases are less meritorious.  Indeed, the “blame the cases” mentality—which arises in most presentations of the data—mirrors the judicial hostility to employment discrimination cases.

Although it may come as a surprise to some that in the context of employment discrimination cases the lower courts now appear to be more conservative than the Supreme Court, this is less of a surprise within the positive political theory framework.  Congressional action is almost always aimed at the Supreme Court rather than lower courts, and as a result, Congress poses less of a threat to the lower courts.  Instead, the Supreme Court plays the primary restraining role on the appellate courts, and it may be that the chance of review and reversal is so low as to pose only a limited constraint.  At the same time, the prospect of congressional reversal also seems quite low, and it is not clear why one would pose a greater restraint than the other.  It may be that the difference lies in the assumptions behind the process: Supreme Court review is a normal part of the appellate process, whereas congressional action is an extraordinary and public process that typically is directed at cases of greater magnitude.

Whatever the reason, the problem for plaintiffs pursuing employment discrimination claims lies primarily in the lower courts rather than in the Supreme Court; this also makes the prospect for meaningful change more complicated since congressional action is less likely to reshape judicial approaches in the appellate courts.  The Supreme Court might be able to prompt change, but, outside of a handful of aberrational cases, that does not seem to be the Court’s interest.  I think there is little question that the current Supreme Court remains fundamentally conservative and is not likely to have a preference for greater plaintiff success in the lower courts.

Conclusion

The CRA not only reversed a series of decisions but also prompted the Supreme Court to change its interpretive position.  Plaintiffs have fared considerably better in the last two decades than they did in the period immediately preceding the passage of the CRA.  But the Supreme Court has clearly not entirely relented, as it continues to reach conservative results in the cases in which it appears to have the strongest preferences.  Close decisions continue to trend for defendants without much variation, whereas the decisions that side with plaintiffs are now most commonly unanimous, and often short, decisions.  Yet, as noted, the real obstacles for plaintiffs have simply moved to the appellate courts, in which plaintiffs now continually face hostile forums, ones that the Supreme Court is generally willing to accept and that avoid the glare of Congress.  So while the Supreme Court has become a more favorable forum for employment discrimination plaintiffs, conditions on the whole have not significantly improved.

Appendix A

Case Outcome Margin
Harris v. Forklift Sys., 510 U.S. 17 (1993) Pl. 9-0
McKennon v. Nashville Banner Publ’g Co., 513 U.S. 352 (1995) Pl. 9-0
O’Connor v. Consol. Coin Caterers Corp., 517 U.S. 308 (1996) Pl. 9-0
Walters v. Metro. Educ. Enters., Inc., 519 U.S. 202 (1997) Pl. 9-0
Robinson v. Shell Oil, 519 U.S. 337 (1997) Pl. 9-0
Oubre v. Entergy Operations, Inc., 522 U.S. 422 (1998) Pl. 6-3
Oncale v. Sundowner Offshore Servs., 523 U.S. 75 (1998) Pl. 9-0
Burlington Indus., Inc. v. Ellerth, 524 U.S. 742 (1998) Pl. 7-2
Faragher v. City of Boca Raton, 524 U.S. 775 (1998) Pl. 7-2
West v. Gibson, 527 U.S. 212 (1999) Pl. 5-4
Kolstad v. Am. Dental Ass’n, 527 U.S. 526 (1999) Pl. 9-0 & 5-4
Reeves v. Sanderson Plumbing Prods., Inc., 530 U.S. 133 (2000) Pl. 9-0
Pollard v. E.I. du Pont de Nemours & Co., 532 U.S. 843 (2001) Pl. 9-0
EEOC v. Waffle House, Inc., 534 U.S. 279 (2002) Pl. 6-3
Edelman v. Lynchburg Coll., 535 U.S. 106 (2002) Pl. 9-0
Nat’l R.R. Passenger Corp. v. Morgan, 536 U.S. 101 (2002) Pl. 9-0 & 5-4
Clackamas Gastroenterology Assocs., P.C. v. Wells, 538 U.S. 440 (2002) Pl. 7-2
Desert Palace, Inc. v. Costa, 539 U.S. 90 (2003) Pl. 9-0
Jones v. R.R. Donnelley & Sons Co., 541 U.S. 369 (2004) Pl. 9-0
Smith v. City of Jackson, 544 U.S. 228 (2005) Pl. 9-0
Ash v. Tyson Foods, Inc., 546 U.S. 454 (2006) Pl. 9-0
Arbaugh v. Y&H Corp., 546 U.S. 500 (2006) Pl. 8-0
Burlington N. & Santa Fe Ry. Co. v. White, 548 U.S. 53 (2006) Pl. 9-0
Fed. Express Corp. v. Holowecki, 552 U.S. 389 (2008) Pl. 7-2
CBOCS W., Inc. v. Humphries, 553 U.S. 442 (2008) Pl. 7-2
Gomez-Perez v. Potter, 553 U.S. 474 (2008) Pl. 6-3
Meacham v. Knolls Atomic Power Lab., 554 U.S. 84 (2008) Pl. 9-0
Crawford v. Metro. Gov’t of Nashville & Davidson Cnty., 129 S. Ct. 846 (2009) Pl. 9-0
Lewis v. City of Chi., 130 S. Ct. 2191 (2010) Pl. 9-0
Sprint/United Mgmt. Co. v. Mendelsohn, 552 U.S. 379 (2008) None 9-0
Hazen Paper Co. v. Biggins, 507 U.S. 604 (1993) Def. 9-0
St. Mary’s Honor Ctr. v. Hicks, 509 U.S. 502 (1993) Def. 5-4
Landgraf v. USI Film Prods., 511 U.S. 244 (1994) Def. 8-1
Rivers v. Roadway Express, Inc., 511 U.S. 298 (1994) Def. 8-1
Comm’r v. Schleier, 515 U.S. 323 (1995) Def. 6-3
Clark Cnty. Sch. Dist. v. Breeden, 532 U.S. 268 (2001) Def. 9-0
Gen. Dynamics Land Sys. v. Cline, 540 U.S. 581 (2004) Def. 6-3
Pa. State Police v. Suders, 542 U.S. 129 (2004) Def. 8-1
Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., 550 U.S. 618 (2007) Def. 5-4
Ky. Ret. Sys. v. EEOC, 554 U.S. 135 (2008) Def. 5-4
AT&T Corp. v. Hulteen, 129 S. Ct. 1962 (2009) Def. 7-2
Gross v. FBL Fin. Servs., Inc., 129 S. Ct. 2343 (2009) Def. 5-4
Ricci v. DeStefano, 129 S. Ct. 2658 (2009) Def. 5-4

Appendix B

Case Outcome Margin
Cal. Fed. Sav. & Loan Ass’n v. Guerra, 479 U.S. 272 (1987) Pl. 6-3
United States v. Paradise, 480 U.S. 149 (1987) Pl. 5-4
Johnson v. Transp. Agency, 480 U.S. 616 (1987) Pl. 6-3
St. Francis Coll. v. Al-Khazraj, 481 U.S. 604 (1987) Pl. 9-0
Goodman v. Lukens Steel Co., 482 U.S. 656 (1987) Def. 6-3
EEOC v. Commercial Office Prods. Co., 486 U.S. 107 (1988) Pl. 6-3
Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977 (1988) Pl. 9-0
Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins, 490 U.S. 228 (1989) Def. 6-3
Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642 (1989) Def. 5-4
Martin v. Wilks, 490 U.S. 755 (1989) Def. 5-4
Lorance v. AT&T Techs., Inc., 490 U.S. 900 (1989) Def. 5-3
Patterson v. McClean Credit Union, 491 U.S. 164 (1989) Def. 5-4
Indep. Fed’n of Flight Attendants v. Zipes, 491 U.S. 754 (1989) Def. 6-2
Pub. Emps. Ret. Sys. v. Betts, 492 U.S. 158 (1989) Def. 7-2
Univ. of Pa. v. EEOC, 493 U.S. 182 (1990) Pl. 9-0
W. Va. Hosps., Inc. v. Casey, 499 U.S. 83 (1991) Def. 6-3
Int’l Union v. Johnson Controls, Inc., 499 U.S. 187 (1991) Pl. 9-0
EEOC v. Arabian Am. Oil Co., 499 U.S. 244 (1991) Def. 6-3
Stevens v. Dep’t of Treasury, 500 U.S. 1 (1991) Pl. 8-1
Gilmer v. Interstate/Johnson Lane Corp., 500 U.S. 20 (1991) Def. 7-2
Astoria Fed. Sav. & Loan Ass’n v. Solimino, 501 U.S. 104 (1991) Pl. 9-0
Gregory v. Ashcroft, 501 U.S. 452 (1991) Def. 6-3

 

 


* Samuel Tyler Research Professor of Law, George Washington University Law School.  An earlier version of this Article was presented at a Symposium held at Wake Forest University School of Law, where I benefitted from the comments and conversations I had at the time.  Particular thanks to Professor Wendy Parker for the invitation to participate and for very helpful suggestions.

[1]. The statute overturned portions of or the entire decisions in eight cases.  See EEOC v. Arabian Am. Oil Co., 499 U.S. 244 (1991) (extraterritorial application of Title VII), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 109, 105 Stat. 1071, 1077; W. Va. Univ. Hosps., Inc. v. Casey, 499 U.S. 83 (1991) (expert witness fees), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 113; Patterson v. McLean Credit Union, 491 U.S. 164 (1989) (§ 1981), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 101(b); Lorance v. AT&T Techs., Inc., 490 U.S. 900 (1989) (seniority system), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 112; Martin v. Wilks, 490 U.S. 755 (1989) (white employees allowed to challenge affirmative action consent decrees), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 108; Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642 (1989) (disparate impact), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 105; Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins, 490 U.S. 228 (1989) (mixed motives), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 107(a); Library of Cong. v. Shaw, 478 U.S. 310 (1986) (government’s immunity from interest), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 114.

[2]. Prior to the passage of the CRA, Title VII had been amended twice.  In 1972, Title VII was amended to apply the statute to public employers (and to address other smaller issues), and in 1978, the Pregnancy Discrimination Act was passed to amend Title VII so that discrimination based on pregnancy would be considered part of sex discrimination.  See Roy L. Brooks et al., Civil Rights Litigation 402–03 (3d ed. 2005).

[3]. In this Article, I am concentrating on Title VII, the Age Discrimination in Employment Act (“ADEA”), and § 1981, while consciously excluding cases involving the Americans with Disabilities Act (“ADA”).  The ADA was passed in 1990 and the Supreme Court has generally interpreted it very narrowly—so narrowly, in fact, that Congress recently passed a statute to modify several of the decisions.  See ADA Amendments Act of 2008, Pub. L. No. 110-325, 122 Stat. 3553 (codified as amended in scattered sections of 42 U.S.C.).  The 1991 Act, however, was not aimed at the ADA, and the ADA also posed unusual interpretive issues that may have led the Court to effectively rewrite the statute.  Most of what proved to be controversial decisions were not ideologically charged, as several of the cases were decided by seven-to-two margins.  For a discussion of the ADA and the Court’s interpretive approach, see Michael Selmi, Interpreting the Americans with Disabilities Act: Why the Supreme Court Rewrote the Statute, and Why Congress Did Not Care, 76 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 522 (2008).  Obviously, the article’s title proved a bit too cute.

[4]. See, e.g., William N. Eskridge, Jr., Overriding Supreme Court Statutory Interpretation Decisions, 101 Yale L.J. 331, 385–90 (1991); William N. Eskridge, Jr., Reneging on History?  Playing the Court/Congress/President Civil Rights Game, 79 Calif. L. Rev. 613, 615–16 (1991).

[5]. A case that perhaps fits this mold best was Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, in which the Court held that subjective employment practices could be challenged under a disparate impact theory but also began to carve out a more rigorous proof structure for those claims.  Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 999–1000 (1988).  This project gained a critical fifth vote three years later in Wards Cove, 490 U.S. at 660.

[6]. Patterson, 491 U.S. at 164.

[7]. See id.

[8]. 427 U.S. 160, 168 (1976).

[9]. Patterson, 491 U.S. at 190–91 (Brennan, J., concurring in the judgment in part and dissenting in part).  For a discussion of the controversy surrounding Patterson, see Donald R. Livingston & Samuel A. Marcosson, The Court at the Crossroads: Runyon, Section 1981, and the Meaning of Precedent, 37 Emory L.J. 949 (1988).  To offer a flavor of what was at stake, the authors explain:

The NAACP Legal Defense Fund sought and obtained participation as amicus curiae by 47 of the 50 states, the American Bar Association, and a bipartisan group of 66 Senators and 119 Representatives.  It sought also the participation of the executive branch as amicus, but the administration decided not to participate.

Id. at 952 n.18; see also Al Kamen, Administration Won’t Argue Rights Case: Solicitor General Upsets Conservatives, Wash. Post, June 24, 1988, at A1.  “The Government had filed a brief on Patterson’s behalf on initial argument which had assumed the validity of Runyon’s interpretation of § 1981, and, given that premise, had supported Patterson’s position that racial harassment could give rise to a valid § 1981 claim against a private employer.”  Livingston & Marcosson, supra, at 952 n.18.

[10]. For a discussion of the case and the public reaction, see John Hope Franklin, The Civil Rights Act of 1866 Revisited, 41 Hastings L.J. 1135 (1990).

[11]. Martin v. Wilks, 490 U.S. 755, 758–59 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 108, 105 Stat. 1071, 1076–77.

[12]. Id. at 758, 761–63.

[13]. For a critical analysis of the case, see George M. Strickler, Jr., Martin v. Wilks, 64 Tul. L. Rev. 1557 (1990).

[14]. Wilks, 490 U.S. at 758.

[15]. For an excellent discussion of the efforts of the Reagan and Bush administrations to dismantle affirmative action and to challenge other civil rights orthodoxies, see Neal Devins, Reagan Redux: Civil Rights Under Bush, 68 Notre Dame L. Rev. 955 (1992).

[16]. On two previous occasions, the Reagan administration’s efforts to challenge existing decrees had been rebuffed.  See Local No. 93, Int’l Ass’n of Firefighters v. City of Cleveland, 478 U.S. 501, 530 (1986); Firefighters Local Union No. 1784 v. Stotts, 467 U.S. 561, 583 (1984).

[17]. A similar phenomenon was occurring with school desegregation decrees as the Supreme Court was loosening the standards for dismantling those decrees.  The most significant case was decided while the CRA was under consideration.  See Bd. of Educ. v. Dowell, 498 U.S. 237, 247 (1991) (establishing the standard for dissolving a desegregation decree); cf. Missouri v. Jenkins, 495 U.S. 33, 50 (1990) (rejecting the district court’s assertion of power to raise taxes to fund plan implementation).

[18]. Prior to the 1988 term, the Court had vacillated some.  For example, it approved the use of preferential hiring in a gender discrimination case, Johnson v. Transportation Agency, 480 U.S. 616 (1987), and upheld a remedial affirmative action order in United States v. Paradise, 480 U.S. 149 (1987), while invalidating a preferential layoff policy in Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education, 476 U.S. 267 (1986).

[19]. Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642, 660 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 105, 105 Stat. 1071, 1074.

[20]. The Griggs decision, recognizing what has come to be known as the disparate impact theory, was not tethered to any particular statutory language but was entirely a product of statutory interpretation.  See Griggs v. Duke Power Co., 401 U.S. 424, 433–34 (1971).  The notion that the Supreme Court was likely to eviscerate the disparate impact theory is based, in large part, on the author’s recollections of the negotiations surrounding the CRA.

[21]. The Court has explicitly made this connection.  See Wards Cove, 490 U.S. at 653; Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 992 (1988).  For a discussion regarding how affirmative action is frequently linked with disparate impact claims, see Mary C. Daly, Affirmative Action, Equal Access and the Supreme Court’s 1988 Term: The Rehnquist Court Takes a Sharp Turn to the Right, 18 Hofstra L. Rev. 1057, 1080–81 (1990).

[22]. See Susan F. Rasky, Rights Groups Work on Measure to Reverse Court’s Bias Rulings, N.Y. Times, Dec. 30, 1989, at 11.

[23]. See W. Va. Univ. Hosps., Inc. v. Casey, 499 U.S 83, 84 (1991) (restricting expert witness fees), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 113; Library of Cong. v. Shaw, 478 U.S. 310, 311 (1986), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 114.

[24]. Lorance v. AT&T Techs., Inc., 490 U.S. 900, 911–12 (1989) (holding that a seniority system could be challenged as discriminatory only when it was first adopted rather than when it became applicable), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 112.

[25]. EEOC v. Arabian Am. Oil Co., 499 U.S. 244, 246 (1991), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 109.

[26]. In the same term as Wilks, Patterson, and Wards Cove, the Supreme Court applied strict scrutiny to review and strike down a set-aside program in the city of Richmond, the former capital of the Confederacy.  See City of Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co., 488 U.S. 469, 493, 511 (1989).  That same term, in a rather extraordinary showing, the Court decided five other notable cases, all of which went against the plaintiffs.  See Pub. Emps. Ret. Sys. of Ohio v. Betts, 492 U.S. 158, 168–69 (1989) (holding that a disability plan adopted prior to passage of the ADEA could not be considered a subterfuge for discrimination); Indep. Fed’n of Flight Attendants v. Zipes, 491 U.S. 754, 766 (1989) (holding that no attorneys’ fees would be granted against losing intervenors); Jett v. Dallas Indep. Sch. Dist., 491 U.S. 701, 731 (1989) (holding that § 1983 provided the exclusive remedy for rights violations by state governmental actors); Will v. Mich. Dep’t of State Police, 491 U.S. 58, 71 (1989) (holding that the State is not a person under § 1983); DeShaney v. Winnebago Cnty. Dep’t of Soc. Servs., 489 U.S. 189, 202 (1989) (finding the State not liable under § 1983 for failing to protect a child from abuse).

[27]. M. Isabel Medina, A Matter of Fact: Hostile Environments and Summary Judgments, 8 S. Cal. Rev. L. & Women’s Stud. 311, 325 (1999).

[28]. In an op-ed defending the President’s signing of the bill, White House Counsel C. Boyden Gray made the connection explicit.  See C. Boyden Gray, Civil Rights: We Won, They Capitulated, Wash. Post, Nov. 14, 1991, at A23 (noting that the damages provisions in the CRA [set] “an important precedent for tort reform”).

[29]. 137 Cong. Rec. 30,693 (Nov. 7, 1991) (statement of Rep. Chester Atkins).

[30]. See Michael Selmi, Was the Disparate Impact Theory a Mistake?, 53 UCLA L. Rev. 701, 706, 763–67 (2006).

[31]. Ian Ayres & Peter Siegelman, The Q-Word as Red Herring: Why Disparate Impact Liability Does Not Induce Hiring Quotas, 74 Tex. L. Rev. 1487, 1489–90 (1996); see also Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 993 (1988); Albemarle Paper Co. v. Moody, 422 U.S. 405, 449 (1975).

[32]. For a strong refutation of the argument, see generally Ayres & Siegelman, supra note 31.

[33]. See Nathan Oman, Statutory Interpretation in Econotopia, 25 Pace L. Rev. 49, 68 (2004).

[34]. See Daniel A. Farber, Statutory Interpretation and Legislative Supremacy, 78 Geo. L.J. 281, 289 & n.39 (1989); Oman, supra note 33, at 68.

[35]. Section 105(b) of the CRA reads:

No statements other than the interpretive memorandum appearing at Vol. 137 Congressional Record S 15276 (daily ed. Oct. 25, 1991) shall be considered legislative history of, or relied upon in any way as legislative history in construing or applying, any provision of this Act that relates to Wards Cove—Business necessity/cumulation
/alternative business practice.

Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 105(b), 105 Stat. 1071, 1075 (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 1981 (2006)).

[36]. The very last provision of the Act, section 402(b), states: “Certain Disparate Impact Cases.—Notwithstanding any other provision of this Act, nothing in this Act shall apply to any disparate impact case for which a complaint was filed before March 1, 1975, and for which an initial decision was rendered after October 30, 1983.”  Id. § 402(b).  It was generally understood that the Wards Cove case was the only case that satisfied this definition.  See Stewart Kwoh, Congress Votes a Cure for All but the Victims, L.A. Times, Nov. 19, 1991, at B37 (noting that the company paid lobbyists more than $175,000 to secure the unusual provision).

[37]. See Steven A. Holmes, President Vetoes Bill on Job Rights; Showdown Is Set, N.Y. Times, Oct. 23, 1990, at A1.

[38]. Initial efforts to override the veto failed by one vote in the Senate.  See Neil A. Lewis, President’s Veto of Rights Measure Survives by 1 Vote, N.Y. Times, Oct. 25, 1990, at A1.  A new bill was later introduced with some modifications.

[39]. Other scholars have reached the same conclusion.  See, e.g., Jerome McCristal Culp, Jr., Neutrality, the Race Question, and the 1991 Civil Rights Act: The “Impossibility” of Permanent Reform, 45 Rutgers L. Rev. 965, 965 (1993) (giving primacy to the role of the Thomas hearings in the passage of the CRA); Devins, supra note 15, at 996 (emphasizing the importance of the Thomas hearings and of David Duke’s run for governor of Louisiana to the passage of the CRA).

[40]. See Linda P. Campbell, GOP’s Danforth Faces a Political Maelstrom: Senator Must Play 2 Roles with Bush, Chi. Trib., Sept. 1, 1991, § 1, at 19.

[41]. See Helen Dewar, White House, Senate Agree on Civil Rights Bill Revisions, Wash. Post, Oct. 25, 1991, at A1, A8.

[42]. See Swanson v. Elmhurst Chrysler Plymouth, Inc., 882 F.2d 1235, 1240 (7th Cir. 1989) (quoting Bohen v. City of E. Chi., 799 F.2d 1180, 1184 (7th Cir. 1986) (“If Congress wishes to amend the provisions of Title VII to provide a remedy of damages, it can do so.”)).

[43]. Id.

[44]. See Judith Lichtman, The Labor Force Needs the 1990 Civil Rights Act, Newsday (N.Y.), May 31, 1990, at 69.

[45]. See supra note 1.

[46]. Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 3(4), 105 Stat. 1071, 1071.

[47]. See, e.g., Jonathan T. Molot, The Rise and Fall of Textualism, 106 Colum. L. Rev. 1, 1 (2006); Jonathan R. Siegel, The Inexorable Radicalism of Textualism, 158 U. Pa. L. Rev. 117 (2009); Lawrence M. Solan, Private Language, Public Laws: The Central Role of Legislative Intent in Statutory Interpretation, 93 Geo. L.J. 427 (2005).

[48]. The literature on positive political theory is now extensive, but a good summary can be found in McNollgast, Politics and the Courts: A Positive Theory of Judicial Doctrine and the Rule of Law, 68 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1631 (1995).  For a recent literature review, see Michael Abramowicz & Emerson H. Tiller, Citation to Legislative History: Empirical Evidence on Positive Political and Contextual Theories of Judicial Decisionmaking, 38 J. Legal Stud. 419 (2009).

[49]. There is now an extensive empirical literature on judicial decisions, most of which reveals that judges’ political ideology has a statistically significant effect on their decisions.  It is generally the case that political ideology is not determinative in most cases but is clearly significant.  For several recent discussions of the literature, and some critiques, see Cass R. Sunstein et al., Are Judges Political? (2006); William M. Landes & Richard A. Posner, Rational Behavior: A Statistical Study, 1 J. Legal Analysis 775 (2009); and Theodore W. Ruger et al., The Supreme Court Forecasting Project: Legal and Political Science Approaches to Predicting Supreme Court Decisionmaking, 104 Colum. L. Rev. 1150 (2004).  Although the empirical approach has now migrated to law schools, much of the work is concentrated in political science.  For a work coauthored by a leading contributor in the field, see Jeffrey A. Segal & Harold J. Spaeth, The Supreme Court and the Attitudinal Model (1993).

[50]. See John A. Ferejohn & Barry R. Weingast, A Positive Theory of Statutory Interpretation, 12 Int’l Rev. L. & Econ. 263, 270 (1992) (noting that “the preference configuration of the current legislature is far more important for the results of statutory interpretation than is that of the enacting legislature”).

[51]. Justice Alito is more conservative than the Justice he replaced—Justice O’Connor—and this is particularly true on employment discrimination issues.  Chief Justice Roberts is also more conservative than was Chief Justice Rehnquist.  Perhaps most significantly, Justice Clarence Thomas, who joined the Court in 1991, is undeniably far more conservative than Justice Thurgood Marshall.  Justice Kennedy, who joined the Court in 1988, has also solidified his foothold in the conservative wing of the Court on many issues.  On the other side, Justice Ginsburg is more liberal than the Justice she replaced—Justice White—and when Justice Souter replaced Justice Brennan in 1990, he was more conservative but drifted consistently to the left thereafter.

[52]. ADA Amendments Act of 2008, Pub. L. No. 110-325, 122 Stat. 3553 (codified as amended in scattered sections of 42 U.S.C.).

[53]. 9 U.S.C. §§ 1–307 (2006).

[54]. For example, I have excluded Circuit City Stores, Inc. v. Adams, 532 U.S. 105, 109 (2001) (interpreting the Federal Arbitration Act’s exemption for employment of transportation workers), but included EEOC v. Waffle House, Inc., 534 U.S. 279, 282 (2002) (holding that an agreement between employer and employee to arbitrate employment-related disputes does not bar the EEOC from seeking victim-related damages) and Gilmer v. Interstate/Johnson Lane Corp., 500 U.S. 20, 23 (1991) (upholding compulsory arbitration agreement for claims arising under the ADEA).

[55]. See Rivers v. Roadway Express, Inc., 511 U.S. 298, 300 (1994) (holding that § 1981 does not apply retroactively); Landgraf v. USI Film Prods., 511 U.S. 244, 247 (1994) (holding that amendments to Title VII do not apply retroactively).

[56]. Rivers, 511 U.S. at 300; Landgraf, 511 U.S. at 247.

[57]. These cases resonated personally with me since I had spent a significant amount of time arguing that the CRA did apply retroactively and was the lead appellate counsel on a case in which the argument was successful (a case in which I prevailed over one of my now colleagues).  See Estate of Reynolds v. Martin, 985 F.2d 470, 471 (9th Cir. 1993).

[58]. St. Mary’s Honor Ctr. v. Hicks, 509 U.S. 502, 510–11 (1993) (holding that proof of pretext may, but need not, lead to a finding of discrimination).  The effects of the Hicks case were muted by the introduction of jury trials as part of the CRA.  Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 102(c), 105 Stat. 1071, 1072.  The Court’s holding in Hicks has less relevance to a jury than to a judge, and has been particularly important at the summary judgment stage.

[59]. One of the cases was functionally a tie, as neither party’s position was adopted.  See Sprint/United Mgmt. Co. v. Mendelsohn, 552 U.S. 379, 387–88 (2008) (holding that so-called me-too evidence was subject to general evidence standards of relevancy rather than to any automatic rule).

[60]. See Table 1, infra.

[61]. For a breakdown of the decisions, see Table 2, infra.  The only decision without some qualification was St. Francis College v. Al-Khazraj, 481 US. 604, 613 (1987), which defined § 1981 to include national origin claims.  The other cases all had some limitations.  See Cal. Fed. Sav. & Loan Ass’n v. Guerra, 479 U.S. 272, 272–73 (1987) (holding, in an opinion by a fractured Court, that a leave policy that offered preferential treatment for women and exceeded the federal standards for pregnancy nondiscrimination was permissible); Bazemore v. Friday, 478 U.S. 385, 400, 407–10 (1986) (handing down a unanimous decision on the relevance of regression analysis but a split decision on the public-accommodations provision); Meritor Sav. Bank v. Vinson, 477 U.S. 57, 66, 72 (1986) (handing down a unanimous decision on the permissibility of the hostile-work-environment theory but withholding judgment on the scope of liability).

[62]. See Int’l Union v. Johnson Controls, Inc., 499 U.S. 187, 197, 212–13 (1991) (analyzing a fetal-protection policy as facially discriminatory with a concurring opinion suggesting that the possibility of third-party lawsuits might constitute adequate justification for the policy); Univ. of Pa. v. EEOC, 493 U.S. 182, 189 (1990) (permitting the EEOC to obtain information relating to a tenure decision).

[63]. Only one of the cases overturned or modified by the CRA substantively involved sex discrimination.  Lorance v. AT&T Techs., Inc., 490 U.S. 900 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 112, 105 Stat. 1071, 1078–79.

[64]. 539 U.S. 90 (2003) .

[65]. See O’Connor v. Consol. Coin Caterers Corp., 517 U.S. 308 (1996), rev’g 56 F.3d 542 (4th Cir. 1995).

[66]. See Robinson v. Shell Oil Co., 70 F.3d 325 (4th Cir. 1995) (en banc), rev’d, 519 U.S. 337 (1997).

[67]. See Ash v. Tyson Foods, Inc., 129 F. App’x 529, 533 (11th Cir. 2005), rev’d, 546 U.S. 454 (2006).

[68]. See Ash v. Tyson Foods, Inc., 546 U.S. 454, 456 (2006).

[69]. Id. at 456–57 (quoting Ash, 129 F. App’x at 533 (internal quotation marks omitted)).

[70]. See Ash v. Tyson Foods, Inc., 392 F. App’x 817 (11th Cir. 2010).

[71]. See Arbaugh v. Y&H Corp., 546 U.S. 500, 516 (2006) (determining that employee numerosity is not a jurisdictional issue); Edelman v. Lynchburg Coll., 535 U.S. 106 (2002) (upholding an EEOC regulation allowing for post-charge verification); Walters v. Metro. Educ. Enters., Inc., 519 U.S. 202, 212 (1997) (adopting the payroll method for counting employees).

[72]. See Stevens v. Dep’t of Treasury, 500 U.S. 1, 6 (1991) (requiring an employee to file a notice of intent to sue with the EEOC within 180 days of the discriminatory act and at least 30 days before filing suit); Martin v. Wilks, 490 U.S. 755, 764 (1989) (permitting challenges to consent decrees by employees not present at the time the decree was entered), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 108, 105 Stat. 1071, 1076–77.

[73]. See Arbaugh, 546 U.S. at 510–15.

[74]. If the Court were so inclined, it could have reached a different conclusion in Arbaugh, which makes its unanimity all the more surprising.  Given that Title VII only applies to employers with fifteen or more employees, permitting the statute to apply to a smaller employer, as appeared to be the case in Arbaugh, seems to be a stretch.  But the question the Court was likely asking itself is why this issue had not been raised earlier, and it probably relented in the face of a completed trial.  A similar pragmatic result was reached in a case involving whether an EEOC intake form can constitute a charge of discrimination.  See Fed. Express Corp. v. Holowecki, 552 U.S. 389, 402–03 (2008).  The Court affirmed an EEOC regulation permitting this scenario, given that a different conclusion likely would have simply meant that the person would have filed a charge much later to avoid penalizing the plaintiff for the way the EEOC had handled the case.  Id. at 406–07.

[75]. See Oncale v. Sundowner Offshore Servs., Inc., 523 U.S. 75, 82 (1998) (permitting same-sex harassment claims).

[76]. See Reeves v. Sanderson Plumbing Prods., Inc., 530 U.S. 133, 148–49 (2000) (abrogating pretext-plus decisions by the lower courts).

[77]. See Crawford v. Metro. Gov’t of Nashville & Davidson Cnty., 129 S. Ct. 846, 849 (2009) (holding that an individual who participates in an internal proceeding can proceed on a retaliation claim); Burlington N. & Santa Fe Ry. Co. v. White, 548 U.S. 53, 67–68 (2006) (establishing a standard for a retaliation claim when an employee would be discouraged from filing a claim).

[78]. In Gomez-Perez v. Potter, the Court read into the ADEA a retaliation provision in an opinion by Justice Alito that drew dissents from Chief Justice Roberts and Justices Scalia and Thomas.  Gomez-Perez v. Potter, 553 U.S. 474, 477–79 (2008).  This case can likewise be seen as a purely pragmatic decision, as there was little question that Congress would have inserted the standard retaliation provision into the statute since this appeared to be little more than a drafting error.  See also Crawford, 129 S. Ct. at 849; CBOCS W., Inc. v. Humphries, 553 U.S. 442, 445 (2008) (implying a retaliation cause of action in § 1981); Burlington N., 548 U.S. at 68.  The Burlington Northern case provides an example of just how protective the Court has been, as the plaintiff prevailed in the lower court on a stricter standard than the Supreme Court adopted.  For a discussion of the cases, see Michael Zimmer, A Pro-Employee Supreme Court?  The Retaliation Decisions, 60 S.C. L. Rev. 917, 917 n.2, 919–23 (2009).

[79]. Retaliation claims filed with the EEOC have increased from 21,613 in Fiscal Year 2000 to 33,613 in Fiscal Year 2009.  Charge Statistics, U.S. EEOC, http://eeoc.gov/eeoc/statistics/enforcement/charges.cfm (last visited Apr. 8, 2011).  This term the Court held that certain third-party retaliation claims could be pursued under Title VII; in that particular case, the employer appeared to retaliate against the employee’s fiancée.  See Thompson v. N. Am. Stainless, L.P., 131 S. Ct. 863 (2011).  I should note that I did not include Thompson in the statistical count, given that, as I write this, the term is not yet completed and including only some of the cases might appear misleading.  One might define Clark County School District v. Breeden, 532 U.S. 268 (2001), as a loss for plaintiffs on a retaliation claim, but that case seems to be more about pleading than about retaliation and was a unanimous per curiam decision.  Id. at 271, 274.

[80]. See Ricci v. DeStefano, 129 S. Ct. 2658, 2663–64 (2009).

[81]. See Table 3, infra.

[82]. St. Mary’s Honor Ctr. v. Hicks, 509 U.S. 502, 523–24 (1993).

[83]. See Reeves v. Sanderson Plumbing Prods., Inc., 530 U.S. 133, 148–49 (2000).

[84]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2664.

[85]. See id. at 2678 (“There is no genuine dispute that the examinations were job-related and consistent with business necessity”).  This statement ignored the numerous objections that had been raised about the test, including its limited utility for assessing skills relevant to higher-level positions and its use as a rank-order device.  Id. at 2707 n.16.  It is my own sense that the tests at issue in Ricci would have been very difficult to justify under existing validation guidelines.  The case has been the subject of extensive critical commentary.  See, e.g., Cheryl I. Harris & Kimberly West-Faulcon, Reading Ricci: Whitening Discrimination, Racing Test Fairness, 58 UCLA L. Rev. 73 (2010).

[86]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2677.  See generally Helen Norton, The Supreme Court’s Post-Racial Turn Towards a Zero-Sum Understanding of Equality, 52 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 197 (2010); Richard Primus, The Future of Disparate Impact, 108 Mich. L. Rev. 1341 (2010).

[87]. Gross v. FBL Fin. Servs., Inc., 129 S. Ct. 2343 (2009).

[88]. See Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., 550 U.S. 618, 621 (2007), superseded by statute, Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009, Pub. L. No. 111-2, 123 Stat. 5.

[89]. Id. at 661 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting).

[90]. See Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009, Pub. L. No. 111-2, 123 Stat. 5 (codified as amended in scattered sections of 29 U.S.C. and 42 U.S.C.).  The Act amends Title VII’s filing requirement for compensation cases so that an employment practice occurs “when a discriminatory compensation decision or other practice is adopted, when an individual becomes subject to a discriminatory compensation decision or other practice, or when an individual is affected by application of a discriminatory compensation decision or other practice, including each time wages, benefits or other compensation is paid.”  42 U.S.C. § 2000e-5(e)(3)(A).  That standard is potentially broader than any standard that had existed in the lower courts.

[91]. Not only was the Act amended to overturn Ledbetter, but also another bill has been introduced to address pay equity issues.  See Paycheck Fairness Act, S. 182, 111th Cong. (2009); Paycheck Fairness Act, H.R. 12, 111th Cong. (2009).

[92]. The other five-to-four decision was a complicated age discrimination case in which the defendant prevailed, but it would be difficult to characterize the case as significantly disadvantaging older employees because the plan at issue was unusual and the particular case was enmeshed in peculiar facts.  See Ky. Ret. Sys. v. EEOC, 554 U.S. 135, 143–47 (2008).

[93]. See Kolstad v. Am. Dental Ass’n, 527 U.S. 526, 545–46 (1999) (adopting an affirmative defense in connection with a punitive damages claim); Burlington Indus., Inc. v. Ellerth, 524 U.S. 742, 765 (1998) (adopting an affirmative defense in sexual harassment cases); Faragher v. City of Boca Raton, 524 U.S. 775, 807–08 (1998) (same).

[94]. As best I have been able to determine, the affirmative defense had not previously been adopted by any court in a sexual harassment case, and it was not presented in any of the briefs filed in the case.  See generally Elizabeth M. Brama, Note, The Changing Burden of Employer Liability for Workplace Discrimination, 83 Minn. L. Rev. 1481 (1999) (discussing prior case law).  This gives credence to Justice Thomas’s claim in dissent that the defense was made up out of “whole cloth.”  See Burlington Indus., 524 U.S. at 771 (Thomas, J., dissenting).

[95]. An early assessment demonstrated that lower courts were interpreting the affirmative defense so that employers who acted appropriately were generally immunized from liability, even if the defense did not technically apply.  See David Sherwyn et al., Don’t Train Your Employees and Cancel Your “1-800” Harassment Hotline: An Empirical Examination and Correction of the Flaws in the Affirmative Defense to Sexual Harassment Charges, 69 Fordham L. Rev. 1265, 1266, 1294 (2001).

[96]. See Smith v. City of Jackson, 544 U.S. 228, 232, 239 (2005).  In Smith, the Supreme Court adopted a “reasonableness” standard based loosely on the portion of the Wards Cove decision that had been overruled by the CRA; much like in the Ricci case, the Court went on to uphold the City’s practice even though the reasonableness of the practice had not been briefed or argued.  Id. at 240–41.

[97]. These doctrines are all discussed in Dianne Avery et al., Employment Discrimination Law 124–32 (8th ed. 2010).

[98]. See, e.g., Rachid v. Jack in the Box, Inc., 376 F.3d 305, 312 (5th Cir. 2004) (adopting a modified standard for summary judgment purposes).  Although the mixed-motives theory has drawn considerable interest among academics, and can be a useful theory at the summary judgment stage, the limited remedies available under the theory render it less useful at trial.

[99]. See generally Wendy Parker, Juries, Race, and Gender: A Story of Today’s Inequality, 46 Wake Forest L. Rev. 185, 192–99 (2011).

[100]. Id. at 195–96.  In charting the win rates for plaintiffs from 1990–2001, Professors Laura Beth Nielson and Robert L. Nelson demonstrated a success rate that ranged from a low of 35.8% (1996) to a high of 43.6% (1992), with an average of 40%.  See Laura Beth Nielson & Robert L. Nelson, Rights Realized?: An Empirical Analysis of Employment Discrimination Litigation as a Claiming System, 2005 Wis. L. Rev. 663, 699 tbl.4.A.  The success rates in bench trials were typically one half that of those in cases tried to juries, with the notable exception of 2001, when plaintiffs prevailed in one third of their bench trials.  Id.

[101]. The difficulty plaintiffs encounter on summary judgment has been well and repeatedly documented.  For two recent analyses, see Elizabeth M. Schneider, The Changing Shape of Federal Civil Pretrial Practice: The Disparate Impact on Civil Rights and Employment Discrimination Cases, 158 U. Pa. L. Rev. 517 (2010), and Elizabeth Schneider, The Dangers of Summary Judgment: Gender and Federal Civil Litigation, 59 Rutgers L. Rev. 705 (2007).

[102]. See Kevin Clermont & Stewart J. Schwab, How Employment Discrimination Plaintiffs Fare in Federal Court, 1 J. Empirical L. Stud. 429, 455 fig.12 (2004).  The difference varies, but for both 1995 and 2001, plaintiffs had a 5% differential at trial, with similar differences on appeal.  Id. at 441 fig.7.

[103]. See Civil Rights Act of 1964, 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-5 (2006); Laura Beth Nielsen et al., Individual Justice or Collective Legal Mobilization?  Employment Discrimination Litigation in the Post Civil Rights United States, 7 J. Empirical L. Stud. 175, 177 (2010).

[104]. Clermont & Schwab, supra note 102, at 434 tbl.1, 440.

[105]. Nielsen et al., supra note 103, at 188.

[106]. I have commented on these issues previously.  See Michael Selmi, Why Are Employment Discrimination Cases So Difficult to Win?, 61 La. L. Rev. 555, 570 (2001).  For an interesting alternative explanation for appellate court hostility that focuses on judicial workload, see Lee Reeves, Pragmatism over Politics: Recent Trends in Lower Court Employment Discrimination Jurisprudence, 73 Mo. L. Rev. 481, 512–22 (2008).

Article in PDF Form

By: Melissa Hart*

Introduction

When Congress passed the 1991 Civil Rights Act (“1991 Act”), the new disparate impact provisions of the law were heralded as a victory for civil rights plaintiffs.[1]  After all, the statute was enacted in response to the Supreme Court’s cramped, “near-death”[2] interpretation of disparate impact law in Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio.[3]  The new law was a legislative sanctioning of the judicially created doctrine that facially neutral policies may still violate Title VII if their impact falls too heavily on a protected class and they cannot be justified as “business necessity.”[4]  This aspect of antidiscrimination law was viewed by many as the best chance for challenging the “built-in headwinds” that continue to keep equal employment opportunity out of reach.[5]

Twenty years later, it is not at all clear that the disparate impact provisions of the 1991 Act have delivered their promised victory.  Disparate impact claims are very rarely successful.[6]  Moreover, the Supreme Court’s 2009 decision in Ricci v. DeStefano,[7] while technically a disparate treatment case, may well have done as much to eviscerate disparate impact’s potential as Wards Cove did twenty years earlier.[8]  The decisions share many common themes: both have particularly unusual facts, both reveal the Court’s willingness to eschew procedural limitations to reach substantive questions not properly before the Court, and both show sharp divisions among the Justices.  Perhaps most importantly, both reveal deep skepticism on the part of many Justices about the underlying premise of disparate impact law: that racial inequalities persist because of continued systemic and institutional biases that can and should be addressed.

But while Wards Cove spoke directly to standards of proof for litigating disparate impact claims, Ricci’s consequences will be felt on the compliance side of the law.  These consequences may be especially dire because disparate impact was always most useful for its deterrence and compliance effects.  Even though plaintiffs have only rarely succeeded in bringing disparate impact claims, the powerful statement of equality inherent in such claims—embodied in the principle that employers should not use facially neutral practices that create a disparate impact unless there is a true business necessity to do so—is an essential message of antidiscrimination law.  And the possibility of disparate impact litigation prompts companies to evaluate their own practices and to make internal adjustments that make employment policies more fair.

This Article begins, in Part I, by considering the early potential of disparate impact law, and the Supreme Court’s response in Wards Cove.  Part II evaluates how much the Civil Rights Act of 1991 actually promised discrimination plaintiffs and examines how disparate impact litigation developed in subsequent years.  Part III considers the Court’s decision in Ricci and its consequences for the voluntary compliance efforts that disparate impact law has encouraged.

When the Supreme Court in 1971 first recognized disparate impact as a legal theory under Title VII, the Court explained that the “absence of discriminatory intent does not redeem employment procedures or testing mechanisms that operate as ‘built-in headwinds’ for minority groups and are unrelated to measuring job capability.”[9]  Forty years later, it is the built-in headwinds of a Supreme Court skeptical of—perhaps even hostile to—the goals of disparate impact theory that pose the greatest challenge to continued movement toward workplace equality.

I.  Giving Disparate Impact Life and Taking It Away

The disparate impact cause of action was first recognized by the Supreme Court as a necessary element of Title VII in order for that statute to truly reach all employment practices that operated to deny equal opportunity.  In Griggs v. Duke Power Co., the Supreme Court explained that Title VII “proscribes not only overt discrimination but also practices that are fair in form, but discriminatory in operation.  The touchstone is business necessity.  If an employment practice that operates to exclude Negroes cannot be shown to be related to job performance, the practice is prohibited.”[10]  The Griggs Court understood that intentional discrimination was not only hard to prove but was also only part of the problem in workplaces that had for so long unthinkingly imposed rules that disadvantaged women and people of color.[11]

During the 1970s and 1980s, disparate impact theory was used to challenge the kinds of “objective” employment criteria—primarily standardized test requirements—that had been disputed in Griggs.[12]  Importantly though, it also encouraged employer compliance efforts and even voluntary affirmative action programs.[13]  Lawyers and human resource professionals advised companies to carefully evaluate their job requirements and to “initiate and implement more creative selection and training procedures.”[14]  And many civil rights advocates viewed disparate impact theory as a driving force behind Title VII’s success as a “major instrument of social progress.”[15]

But disparate impact faced vocal criticism from the beginning.[16]  Courts and commentators worried that

acceptance of the idea that discrepancies between racial composition of the community and the plant or department alone make out a prima facie case of discrimination leads inevitably toward a narrowing of the Court’s options in fashioning a remedy.  If the problem is to be demonstrated by the mere fact of a discrepancy, then the solution logically must amount to an order to bring the employment statistics into line with the population statistics . . . .[17]

This fear, that employers would simply engage in quota hiring to avoid disparate impact liability, was a constant threat to disparate impact law’s development.

Five years after deciding Griggs, the Court concluded that the disparate impact theory was not available to plaintiffs bringing constitutional claims; instead, the Equal Protection Clause is violated only by intentionally discriminatory conduct.[18]  Indeed, the Washington v. Davis majority revealed considerable skepticism about disparate impact as a theory of discrimination, announcing that, “[a]s an initial matter, we have difficulty understanding how a law establishing a racially neutral qualification for employment is nevertheless racially discriminatory and denies ‘any person . . . equal protection of the laws’ simply because a greater proportion of Negroes fails to qualify than members of other racial or ethnic groups.”[19]  This rejection of disparate impact theory in constitutional analysis put disparate impact claims on shaky ground by creating a distinction between “true” discrimination and claims of disparate impact.[20]

The question of whether disparate impact effectively required employers to implement quotas to avoid liability was presented to the Supreme Court as early as 1977.[21]  The concern expressed by critics of impact theory was that, if plaintiffs can make out a prima facie case of disparate impact discrimination merely by showing that an employer’s hiring or promotion policies lead to statistical underrepresentation of a protected class, then defendants will have an incentive to avoid liability by simply ensuring that their workforce does not show that statistical underrepresentation.[22]  This is troubling, critics argue, because Title VII specifically provides that the statute shall not be interpreted to require any kind of proportional representation.[23]

In International Brotherhood of Teamsters v. United States, the Supreme Court dismissed the concern that reliance on statistical proof will lead to race-based quota hiring.[24]  In a disparate treatment case, statistics are probative because they are “often a telltale sign of purposeful discrimination.”[25]  In disparate impact litigation, statistical disparities push the employer to justify its business practices—to explain why the practice that is creating the disparity is actually necessary for the workplace.  Liability will not flow from statistical disparities alone, but from reliance on business practices that are unnecessary and that impose a disproportionate disadvantage on women or people of color.[26]

The tension between those who viewed disparate impact as the best hope for challenging continued workplace inequality and those who viewed impact theory as an illegal directive to implement hiring quotas came to a head in Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio.  In Wards Cove, the Supreme Court confronted a disparate impact challenge to the racially segregated world of salmon canneries in Alaska.[27]  At the two canneries that were the subject of the litigation, jobs were classified as “cannery” (unskilled) and “noncannery” (skilled).[28]  The cannery jobs were filled almost entirely by Filipinos and Alaska Natives who were either hired through one union or resided in villages near the canneries.[29]  The noncannery jobs, which paid more than the cannery positions, were filled predominantly by whites who were recruited in Washington and Oregon.[30]  Cannery employees lived in separate dormitories and ate in separate dining halls from the noncannery employees.[31] Justice Blackmun described these working conditions in his dissenting opinion:

The salmon industry as described by this record takes us back to a kind of overt and institutionalized discrimination we have not dealt with in years: a total residential and work environment organized on principles of racial stratification and segregation . . . .  This industry long has been characterized by a taste for discrimination of the old-fashioned sort: a preference for hiring nonwhites to fill its lowest level positions, on the condition that they stay there.[32]

In 1974, fifteen years before the case would reach the Supreme Court, a class of nonwhite cannery workers brought suit challenging a broad range of the companies’ employment policies: nepotism, separate hiring channels for cannery and noncannery positions, a rehire preference, a practice of not promoting from within, an English language requirement, no posting for noncannery positions, and a lack of objective hiring criteria.[33]  The plaintiffs contended that these practices “were responsible for the racial stratification of the work force and had denied them and other nonwhites employment as noncannery workers on the basis of race.”[34]  They claimed both disparate impact and disparate treatment violations of Title VII.[35]  The Wards Cove litigation had a tortuous procedural history during which the lower courts rejected the plaintiffs’ disparate treatment claims but permitted the impact claims.[36]  The dispute arrived at the Supreme Court on an interlocutory appeal, and the Court took the case as an opportunity to make a number of pronouncements about Title VII’s disparate impact standards.[37]

In a sharply divided opinion, the Court first criticized the lower court’s comparison of the percentage of cannery positions held by nonwhites with the percentage of noncannery positions held by nonwhites.[38]  The relevant comparison, the majority explained, is between the percentage of job holders and the percentage of qualified applicants for those jobs.[39]  In telling its story about what qualifications were relevant to that comparison, the Wards Cove majority focused exclusively on the noncannery jobs that required special skills, such as accountants, doctors, and other professionals.[40]  To compare those jobs to the unskilled positions held by cannery workers was to hold the employer responsible for differences between the two labor pools that had nothing to do with the employers’ policies and practices: “If the absence of minorities holding such skilled positions is due to a dearth of qualified nonwhite applicants (for reasons that are not the petitioners’ fault), petitioners’ selection methods or employment practices cannot be said to have had a ‘disparate impact’ on nonwhites.”[41]

The Court went on to hold that a plaintiff bringing a disparate impact challenge must identify with specificity what particular employment practice caused the complained-of disparate impact.[42]  Plaintiffs cannot make out a prima facie case of disparate impact simply by pointing to significant racial disparities in workforce composition.[43]  The Court concluded that “[t]o hold otherwise would result in employers being potentially liable for ‘the myriad of innocent causes that may lead to statistical imbalances in the composition of their work forces.’”[44]

Finally, and most controversially, the Court reversed twenty years of disparate impact law and concluded that an employer seeking to explain racial disparity with a “business necessity” will not have to demonstrate that the practice in question is “essential” or “indispensible.”[45]  Forcing the employer to meet this burden, the majority explained, imposes too onerous a standard, and “would result in a host of evils.”[46]  This “host of evils” is the possibility that employers will engage in quotas or hiring goals in order to avoid disparate impact liability.[47]  Instead, the Court held that an employer facing a charge of disparate impact discrimination would not have to “demonstrate” anything, in the sense of meeting a burden of proof.[48]  Instead of being an affirmative defense—which “business necessity” had been since Griggs—the majority concluded that the employer’s burden should be merely a burden of production.[49]  The disparate impact plaintiff would be required to demonstrate that the challenged practice was not a business necessity.[50]  Moreover, the Wards Cove majority significantly weakened the “business necessity” threshold, concluding that an employer’s challenged policy need only serve “the legitimate employment goals of the employer.”[51]

Wards Cove produced two impassioned dissents, one penned by Justice Blackmun[52] and the other by Justice Stevens.[53]  Blackmun’s dissent observed that the legal changes wrought by the decision “essentially immunize[d] . . . from attack” the range of practices that entrenched “racial stratification and segregation” in the salmon industry.[54]  Justice Stevens’s dissent accused the majority of “[t]urning a blind eye to the meaning and purpose of Title VII,” when it “perfunctorily reject[ed] a longstanding rule of law and underestimate[d] the probative value of evidence of a racially stratified work force.”[55]  One of the most striking things about the three opinions—the majority and the two dissents—is what radically different meaning the dissenting Justices took from the facts of the case than did the members of the five-Justice majority.  As Justice Blackmun concluded, “One wonders whether the majority still believes that race discrimination—or, more accurately, race discrimination against nonwhites—is a problem in our society, or even remembers that it ever was.”[56]

Justice Stevens’s dissent began by observing that this case had very unusual and complicated facts and should not have been used to rewrite the law.[57]  He went on to detail the ways in which the Wards Cove majority broke from the settled law in disparate impact cases.[58]  A substantial part of the dissent was occupied with challenging the majority’s view of how to think about the statistical evidence offered to the lower courts.[59]  Where the majority disregarded the segregation of the noncannery and cannery workforces as being irrelevant comparisons, Justice Stevens argued that in the “unique industry” of Alaskan salmon canneries, there are key elements that make the comparison of these two groups particularly appropriate.[60]  He presented a very different picture of the “skilled” noncannery positions filled almost entirely by white employees; instead of focusing on the doctors and accountants that occupy the majority, he pointed out that the “skills” required for many of those positions included only things like English literacy, typing, good health, and possession of a driver’s license.[61]  Moreover, Justice Stevens pointed out that one of the most important job qualifications for both cannery and noncannery employees in this industry was a willingness to be available for and to accept seasonal employment.[62]  That important variable makes the comparison between these two groups of employees arguably more relevant than any other comparison and certainly as relevant as a comparison of noncannery workers with the general labor force.

The fundamental difference between the stories told by the dissents and the story told by the majority is a crucial element of Wards Cove.  The majority saw the facts through a lens of skepticism about—even perhaps hostility to—the reach of disparate impact theory.  The absolute segregation of the salmon industry did not worry the Justices in the majority because they viewed that segregation as occurring naturally, unrelated to policy choices being made by the employer.  For the dissenting Justices, the “unsettling resemblance to aspects of a plantation economy”[63] was the major concern, and the lens through which the applicable legal standards were considered.  Wards Cove revealed how completely divergent views about disparate impact law mirrored similar debates about affirmative action.  In both contexts, one sees the substantial divide between those who view workplace discrimination against people of color as a continuing serious problem and those who believe that antidiscrimination laws have themselves become a source of unfair treatment of white workers.[64]

II.  The Rebirth of Disparate Impact

The Civil Rights Act of 1991 was an emphatic and hard-fought rejection of several 1989 Supreme Court decisions—most especially of Wards Cove’s changes to disparate impact law.[65]  The bill that passed and that was signed by President George H. W. Bush was heralded as a victory for plaintiffs in part because of the process that led to its passage.  The bill was first vetoed, and the subsequent year-long negotiations ended with what many called a “capitulation” by a Republican White House to the demands of civil rights leaders that disparate impact law remain a viable litigation theory.[66]  The core of the debate that shaped the relevant provisions of the legislation was about the relationship between disparate impact and quotas.

The 1991 codification of disparate impact explicitly returned the law, in certain respects, to its pre-Wards Cove status.[67]  In particular, section 703(k) of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, amended by section 105(a) of the 1991 Act, now specifies that “business necessity” is an affirmative defense, which the defendant carries the burden of demonstrating after the plaintiff has made out a prima facie case that an employer practice disproportionately impacts protected employees.[68]  “Business necessity,” which the Wards Cove majority had described as anything consistent with “legitimate employment goals,”[69] is defined in the new section 703(k) as “job related for the position in question and consistent with business necessity.”[70]  The 1991 Act also specifically returned the meaning of “alternative employment practice” to that which it had been under “the law as it existed on June 4, 1989.”[71]  As to the prima facie case, which the Supreme Court had said required identification of a specific employment practice,[72] Congress provided that a plaintiff typically does have to demonstrate a particular practice that causes a disparate impact, but the legislature offered an exception for circumstances in which the plaintiff can demonstrate “that the elements of a [defendant’s] decisionmaking process are not capable of separation for analysis.”[73]  In that circumstance, “the decisionmaking process may be analyzed as one employment practice.”[74]

Given the battle over disparate impact that led to the 1991 Civil Rights Act, it would be reasonable to imagine an increase in the number of disparate impact cases following the statute’s enactment.  In fact, however, there was no surge in the number of disparate impact suits filed after 1991.  And, as Michael Selmi’s 2006 empirical evaluation of disparate impact cases demonstrated, plaintiffs had significantly more success with disparate impact claims before 1991 than after.[75]

There are a number of possible explanations for the relatively small number of disparate impact claims in the federal courts.  Perhaps most significantly, the 1991 Act added compensatory and punitive damages to Title VII’s remedial arsenal, but only for claims of intentional discrimination.[76]  This change created substantial incentives for plaintiffs to frame their suits as disparate treatment rather than disparate impact claims.  Further, although the 1991 Act was quite explicit in rejecting Wards Cove, the statute still left considerable uncertainty about core interpretive questions—including what constitutes an “employment practice” subject to challenge and precisely what “business necessity” means—in disparate impact litigation.  And importantly, the number of disparate impact claims was lower by the 1990s because disparate impact theory was doing what it was in large part intended to do: encourage employers to develop internal practices that did not have a disparate impact on protected classes.  Indeed “[t]he disparate impact standard . . . triggered reconsideration of a wide range of promotion practices and other devices that failed to accurately measure and predict candidates’ job performance.”[77]  By 1991, twenty years after Griggs, employer practices that caused obvious disparate impact without any business justification had been eliminated in many workplaces through employers’ own internal compliance efforts.

Just as the promise of the 1991 Act might have been more rhetorical than substantive for potential disparate impact litigation, the perils that opponents saw lurking behind disparate impact theory did not emerge in the wake of the new law.  There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that the newly codified disparate impact theory led employers to adopt quotas or to lower their employment standards.  But the fear that potential disparate impact liability might lead employers to adopt hiring quotas—and more generally the anxiety that antidiscrimination laws were themselves prompting discrimination against white employees—has not diminished.

III.  Ricci: Is Disparate Impact Dead Again?

Twenty years and twenty days after announcing its ruling in Wards Cove, the Supreme Court issued another sharply divided set of opinions in Ricci v. DeStefano.[78]  Ricci was a disparate treatment case, but the allegation of disparate treatment stemmed from the City of New Haven’s effort to avoid disparate impact liability.[79]  A five-Justice majority concluded that the City had engaged in intentional discrimination against white firefighters when it declined to certify the results of a promotion test that had a disparate impact on minority firefighters.[80]

Ricci shared a number of similarities with the Wards Cove decision.  One of the most immediately notable is that in both cases the Court’s majority ignored basic procedural norms that are supposed to constrain the Supreme Court in order to reach its preferred outcome.  In Wards Cove, the Court significantly altered disparate impact law in a case that came to it on interlocutory review, and the dissent was sharply critical of what it saw as procedural impropriety.[81]  Similarly in Ricci, the dissenting Justices observed that the majority was departing from the Court’s usual procedural rules by not simply reversing the summary judgment granted and upheld below, but actually reviewing the record and granting summary judgment for the other side.[82]  The willingness to ignore procedural norms gives both opinions an aura of “judicial activism” that heightens the sense that both are part of a political debate in which statutory interpretation is just one argument.

Wards Cove and Ricci are also notable for their complex facts, and for the widely different view of the facts offered by the majority and the dissent in each case.  The highly contested facts in Ricci made especially surprising the majority’s decision to grant summary judgment based on the record as it stood at the Supreme Court.[83]

In 2003, the City of New Haven administered a written test as part of the process for selecting promotion-eligible employees for officer positions in the fire department.[84]  The test was developed to account for sixty percent of the promotion process because the City’s decades-old contract with the firefighter’s union provided that promotion would be based sixty percent on a written exam and forty percent on an oral exam.[85]  The City charter provided that, after the exam was administered, the Civil Service Board would rank applicants, creating a list from which vacancies would be filled.[86]  Candidates had to be chosen from among the top three scorers on the list, and the list would remain valid for two years.[87]  Seventy-seven candidates completed the 2003 lieutenant examination and forty-one candidates completed the examination for promotion to captain.[88]  The results on both examinations showed significant racial disparities for both African-American and Latino test takers sufficient to make out a prima facie case of disparate impact under Title VII.[89]

As soon as the exam results were made publicly available, “[s]ome firefighters argued the tests should be discarded because the results showed the test to be discriminatory.  They threatened a discrimination lawsuit if the City made promotions based on the tests.  Other firefighters said the exams were neutral and fair.  And they, in turn, threatened a discrimination lawsuit” if the City did not certify the results.[90]  At this point, the City found itself between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

In January 2004, the Civil Service Board met to decide whether to certify the results of the exam.[91]  At the beginning of the meeting, the City’s director of Human Resources informed the board that she believed the exam created a “significant disparate impact” on test takers.[92]  Over the course of five meetings, the Civil Service Board heard testimony from the person who had developed the test for the City, additional firefighters, New Haven community members, other professional test developers, individuals employed in fire departments in other cities, the City’s legal counsel, and a psychologist from Boston College, among others.[93]  At the close of these meetings, the Civil Service Board voted on whether to certify the results.  With one member recused, the remaining four board members were deadlocked, two to two, on whether to certify; consequently, the list was not certified.[94]

Following the decision not to certify the results, seventeen white firefighters and one Hispanic firefighter filed suit, alleging, among other claims, that the decision not to certify was an act of intentional race discrimination.[95]  In district court, the City successfully argued that the Civil Service Board’s good-faith belief that certifying the exam would expose it to liability for disparate impact discrimination shielded it from liability for disparate treatment, and was granted summary judgment.[96]  The Supreme Court rejected this argument, concluding that “there is no genuine dispute that the examinations were job-related and consistent with business necessity,”[97] and granted summary judgment for the firefighters.[98]  For the majority, the story—the undisputed and indisputable story—of what happened in New Haven was this:

The record in this litigation documents a process that, at the outset, had the potential to produce a testing procedure that was true to the promise of Title VII: No individual should face workplace discrimination based on race.  Respondents thought about promotion qualifications and relevant experience in neutral ways.  They were careful to ensure broad racial participation in the design of the test itself and its administration.  As we have discussed at length, the process was open and fair.  The problem, of course, is that after the tests were completed, the raw racial results became the predominant rationale for the City’s refusal to certify the results.[99]

This understanding of what happened in New Haven rests on a number of much contested assumptions about the neutrality and fairness of the City’s test and the process used to design it.  The majority simply disregarded the catalog of contested factual questions.  With these blinders on, it could perceive the statistically significant disparate impact of the test as legally irrelevant.

The Ricci dissent told a very different story.  The dissent described a long history of race discrimination in the New Haven Fire Department and pointed to portions of the record that suggested that the challenged test was significantly more problematic than the majority’s recitation of the facts suggested.[100]  While the majority lauded the test-development process, the dissent pointed out that there was no determination before hiring the test writer of what kind of test would best evaluate candidates for promotion.[101]  In fact, the City didn’t consider any other testing mechanism; didn’t question its use of a decades-old decision to weight the written exam sixty percent and the oral exam forty percent; and didn’t vet the written exam with any experienced local firefighters.[102]

Indeed, only after the test was administered, and the significant adverse impact became apparent, did the City seem to realize the range of flaws in the test and refer the question to the Civil Service Board.[103]  At this point, too, the dissenting opinion demonstrates that a very different story can be read in the record than the majority’s view that only statistical racial disparities mattered in the Civil Service Board’s process; the record included evidence that Civil Service Board members understood that “their principal task was to decide whether they were confident about the reliability of the exams: Had the exams fairly measured the qualities of a successful fire officer despite their disparate results?  Might an alternative examination process have identified the most qualified candidates without creating such significant racial imbalances?”[104]

The dramatically different readings of what actually happened in New Haven presented in the Ricci opinions are a result of the widely divergent views held by the majority and the dissenting Justices about the problem of discrimination.[105]  Why did the original test end up with such disparate results?  The Supreme Court’s majority believed that it was because white people do better on objective tests that evaluate merit.[106]  The Ricci majority’s description of the facts was replete with quotes accounting for this discrepancy: “usually whites outperform some of the minorities on testing”;[107] “[n]ormally, whites outperform ethnic minorities on the majority of standardized testing procedures”;[108] and “regardless of what kind of written test we give in this country . . . we can just about predict how many people will pass who are members of under-represented groups.  And your data are not that inconsistent with what predictions would say were the case.”[109]  Of course, this was all testimony that was in fact presented to the Civil Service Board.  But it is just a very small sample of the testimony offered during the course of the five meetings the Civil Service Board held about these tests.  There was also a great deal of evidence—the evidence credited by the dissenting Justices—that showed New Haven’s test was not developed with care and other tests would more accurately measure qualifications and would do so with much less racial disparity.[110]

The conviction that whites just do better is central to the majority’s conclusion that the decision not to certify the test results constituted “race-based” discrimination.  As Girardeau Spann has observed,

The reason that the Ricci Court displayed such unquestioning deference to the standardized promotion exam is precisely because whites outperform minorities on standardized tests.  I am not suggesting that the Court conspiratorially chose to utilize an invalid selection criterion in order to favor white firefighters over minority firefighters.  I am suggesting something much more troubling.  I am suggesting that—despite a mass of contrary evidence—the Court actually believed the standardized test to be valid because the results of that test corresponded to the racially-correlated expectations that the culture had taught the Justices equate with merit.  Because whites outperformed minorities on the exam, the exam must have been measuring qualities that were relevant to merit-based promotions.  Therefore, any decision not to certify the results of that exam must have been rooted in a desire to abandon merit in favor of unwarranted racial affirmative action.[111]

This is the point at which Ricci becomes a case about disparate impact’s increasingly uncertain future.  While the majority specifically declined the opportunity to hold that Title VII’s disparate impact provisions are unconstitutional, it began its analysis “with this premise: The City’s actions would violate the disparate-treatment prohibition of Title VII absent some valid defense.”[112]  This statement could be read—and is being treated by many employment lawyers—as suggesting that efforts to avoid disparate impact on minority employees will always present white employees with a cause of action for discriminatory disparate treatment and that employers will only be able to avoid liability in those cases in which they can satisfy Ricci’s new “strong basis in evidence” defense.[113]

Ricci did not, in fact, eliminate—or even really change—disparate impact law.  Employers are still required under Title VII, if their employment practices have an adverse impact, to ensure that the practices are job related and consistent with business necessity.  The majority was quite explicit in stating that an employer may still design job tests and other practices with the goal of avoiding a disparate impact.[114]  Importantly, the majority drew a line between voluntary compliance efforts that seek to avoid disparate impact in the creation and administration of employment tests and practices, on the one hand, and the evaluation of test scores after the tests have been taken, on the other.  The former are not subject to the Court’s new approach.  Only after a test has been taken—when the actual racial makeup of the results is known—will an employer be at risk of disparate treatment liability.  At that point, of course, the risk may be significant.  The “strong basis in evidence” defense, which the majority imported from case law on affirmative action,[115] may be a hard one to meet.  The Court provided no guidance about what kind of information would be sufficient for an employer to demonstrate, after it had administered a test and seen the results, that it had a strong basis in evidence for believing that it would be violating disparate impact law to use the test in making employment decisions.

What Ricci does do is make voluntary diversity efforts less appealing to employers by casting a shadow of potential litigation over these efforts.  Will an employer going through a reduction in force, for example, be sued by white employees if it seeks to ensure that the reduction in force will not unduly impact minority employees?  Will employers face claims of race discrimination if they participate in minority job fairs or engage in other diversity efforts?  Ricci can certainly be read to suggest that any employer action taken to increase opportunities for formerly excluded minority employees constitutes intentional discrimination against white employees.  As Justice Ginsburg noted in her dissenting opinion, there is a “sharp conflict” between the Ricci decision and the “voluntary compliance ideal” that has long been central to the Court’s interpretation of Title VII.[116]

Given the important role that voluntary compliance has always played in response to the possibility of disparate impact liability, Ricci’s consequences for the viability of the doctrine as an important tool in antidiscrimination law are as significant as were the doctrinal changes of Wards Cove.  Indeed, Ricci may be even more troubling because it is extremely hard to know how to respond to the opinion, not only for employers, as discussed above, but also for those seeking a legislative fix for the Court’s new legal standard. After Wards Cove, the calls for a legislative response were immediate[117] and it was relatively clear what a responsive statute might look like: the Court’s opinion had included a series of specific doctrinal statements, and the 1991 Act contained provisions that tracked those statements.[118]  In doing so, Congress made a powerful rhetorical statement rejecting the Supreme Court’s view of the law.

Although there have been calls for a legislative response to Ricci,[119] it really is not clear what that response could look like.  Congress could pass a statute providing that the “strong basis in evidence” test is too high a standard for employers to meet when facing a disparate treatment challenge to efforts at compliance with disparate impact obligations.  The legislature could instead adopt the standard proposed by Justice Ginsburg’s dissent.  But either legislative fix would hardly be responsive to the rhetoric of Ricci.  Still standing would be the underlying assumption: when employers seek to avoid tests that unfairly impact minority workers they are engaging in discrimination against white workers.  That is the true harm in Ricci.

Conclusion

Many people have pointed out that Ricci, read neutrally, suggests that mere racial consciousness is enough to demonstrate intent to discriminate.[120]  This would be a radical change in employment discrimination law if applied to all cases under Title VII.[121]  And yet, nobody really believes the import of Ricci was a liberalizing of the standards that all plaintiffs must meet to prove discrimination.  Twenty years before Ricci, Justice Blackmun’s Wards Cove dissent expressed the fear that “[o]ne wonders whether the majority still believes that race discrimination—or, more accurately, race discrimination against nonwhites—is a problem in our society, or even remembers that it ever was.”[122]  The same could be said of the Ricci majority, which seems to have created and applied a standard for proving discrimination that is applicable only when the plaintiff is attacking an employer’s voluntary effort to avoid disparate impact.  The opinion reflects the sad reality that a majority of the Justices today are likely among the fifty-six percent of American Republicans who believe discrimination against whites is the most serious discrimination problem that our country faces.[123]  On the twentieth anniversary of the Civil Rights Act of 1991 this is a solemn statement about the true impediments to equality.


* Associate Professor of Law, University of Colorado Law School.  Many thanks to Rachel Arnow-Richman, Roberto Corrada, Scott Moss, Helen Norton, and Catherine Smith for their always helpful comments.

[1]. See Charles A. Sullivan, Ricci v. DeStefano: End of the Line or Just Another Turn on the Disparate Impact Road?, 104 Nw. U. L. Rev. Colloquy 201, 202 (2009), http://www.law.northwestern.edu/lawreview/colloquy/2009/40
/LRColl2009n40Sullivan.pdf (noting the “firestorm of protest” that led to the passage of the 1991 Act).

[2]. Id.

[3]. 490 U.S. 642 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, 105 Stat. 1074, as recognized in Raytheon Co. v. Hernandez, 540 U.S. 44 (2003).

[4]. See Joseph A. Seiner & Benjamin N. Gutman, Does Ricci Herald a New Disparate Impact?, 90 B.U. L. Rev. 2181, 2194 (2010) (outlining the disparate impact analysis codified by the 1991 Act).

[5]. Griggs v. Duke Power Co., 401 U.S. 424, 432 (1971).

[6]. See Susan D. Carle, A Social Movement History of Title VII Disparate Impact Analysis, 63 Fla. L. Rev. 251, 257 (2011); Michael Selmi, Was Disparate Impact Theory a Mistake?, 53 UCLA L. Rev. 701, 735–43 (2006); Elaine W. Shoben, Disparate Impact Theory in Employment Discrimination: What’s Griggs Still Good For?  What Not?, 49 Brandeis L.J. 597, 598 (2004).

[7]. 129 S. Ct. 2658 (2009).

[8]. Wards Cove, 490 U.S. at 650–51.

[9]. Griggs, 401 U.S. at 432.

[10]. Id. at 431.

[11]. See id. at 429–30.

[12]. See Selmi, supra note 6, at 708; Elaine W. Shoben, Probing the Discriminatory Effects of Employee Selection Procedures with Disparate Impact Analysis Under Title VII, 56 Tex. L. Rev. 1 (1977) (describing cases).

[13]. See Herbert N. Bernhardt, Griggs v. Duke Power Co.: The Implications for Private and Public Employers, 50 Tex. L. Rev. 901, 928 (1972) (“The importance of the Griggs decision, then, goes well beyond the Court’s holding that employment tests require validation.  It challenges employers to initiate creative programs designed to discover and utilize the job potential of minority applicants.”); Alfred W. Blumrosen, The Legacy of Griggs: Social Progress and Subjective Judgments, 63 Chi.-Kent L. Rev. 1, 3–5 (1987).

[14]. Bernhardt, supra note 13, at 928.

[15]. Blumrosen, supra note 13, at 1.

[16]. See, e.g., Richard A. Epstein, Forbidden Grounds: The Case Against Employment Discrimination Laws 234–36 (1992); Paul Brest, In Defense of the Antidiscrimination Principle, 90 Harv. L. Rev. 1, 4 (1976) (describing disparate impact as one of the “most controversial and important” civil rights issues of the preceding decade).

[17]. Harper v. Mayor & City Council of Balt., 359 F. Supp. 1187, 1193 n.5 (D. Md. 1973).

[18]. Washington v. Davis, 426 U.S. 229, 242 (1976).

[19]. Id. at 245 (alteration in original).

[20]. Indeed, the question of whether disparate impact theory actually violates the Constitution is now up for debate.  See Ricci v. DeStafano, 129 S. Ct. 2658, 2681–82 (2009) (Scalia, J., concurring).  The seeds of that debate were certainly sowed in Washington v. Davis.

[21]. Int’l Bhd. of Teamsters v. United States, 431 U.S. 324, 339 n.20 (1977).

[22]. See, e.g., Epstein, supra note 16, at 234–36; Hugh Steven Wilson, A Second Look at Griggs v. Duke Power Company: Ruminations on Job Testing, Discrimination, and the Role of the Federal Courts, 58 Va. L. Rev. 844, 873 (1972).

[23]. 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(j) (2006) (“Nothing contained in this subchapter shall be interpreted to require any employer . . . to grant preferential treatment to any individual or to any group because of the race . . . or national origin of such individual or group on account of an imbalance which may exist with respect to the total number or percentage of persons of any race . . . or national origin employed by any employer . . . in comparison with the total number or percentage of persons of such race . . . or national origin in any community, State, section, or other area, or in the available work force in any community, State, section, or other area.”).

[24]. Teamsters, 431 U.S. at 340 n.20 (“Statistics showing racial or ethnic imbalance are probative in a case such as this one only because such imbalance is often a telltale sign of purposeful discrimination.”); see also Shoben, supra note 12, at 42 (discussing Justice Stewart’s majority opinion in Teamsters and suggesting that the function of disparate impact analysis is not to require an employer to maintain quotas).

[25]. Teamsters, 431 U.S. at 340 n.20.

[26]. See id. at 339–40 (stating that testimony about personal experiences with the company “brought the cold numbers convincingly to life,” and that the usefulness of statistics “depends on all of the surrounding facts and circumstances”).

[27]. Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642, 647 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, 105 Stat. 1074, as recognized in Raytheon Co. v. Hernandez, 540 U.S. 44 (2003).

[28]. Id.

[29]. Id.

[30]. Id.

[31]. Id.

[32]. Id. at 662 (Blackmun, J., dissenting).

[33]. Id. at 647–48 (majority opinion).

[34]. Id.

[35]. Id. at 648.

[36]. Id.  The disparate impact claims got significantly more attention from both the litigants and the courts throughout the litigation, presumably because they were somewhat novel.  Prior to 1989, only objective employer tests were subject to disparate impact analysis.  Id.  The kinds of hiring standards challenged here were not considered employer “practices.”  That approach changed during the course of this litigation, and it was the primary focus of the litigation.  See Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 989–90 (1988) (disparate impact analysis can apply to subjective employment practices).  Given the strength of some of the disparate treatment evidence, one wonders what might have happened if the plaintiffs had maintained a more aggressive focus on their claims of intentional discrimination.

[37]. Wards Cove, 490 U.S. at 649–50.

[38]. Id. at 650.

[39]. Id. (citing Hazelwood Sch. Dist. v. United States, 433 U.S. 299, 308 (1977)).

[40]. Id. at 651.

[41]. Id. at 651–52 (footnote omitted).

[42]. Id. at 657.

[43]. Id.

[44]. Id. (quoting Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 992 (1988)).

[45]. Id. at 659.

[46]. Id.

[47]. Id. at 652–53.

[48]. Id. at 657, 659.

[49]. Id. at 660.

[50]. Id. at 659.

[51]. Id.  The Court concluded by noting that, even if the plaintiffs could not demonstrate that a challenged practice had no business purpose, they might identify an alternative that would have less impact, but still achieve the employer’s legitimate goal.  Id. at 660–61.  Here, in a final blow to the viability of disparate impact claims, the Court found that “any alternative practices which respondents offer up in this respect must be equally effective as petitioners’ chosen hiring procedures in achieving petitioners’ legitimate employment goals” and that the cost of implementing any change was a relevant consideration to whether an alternative was reasonable.  Id. at 661.

[52]. Id. at 661 (Blackmun, J., dissenting).

[53]. Id. at 662 (Stevens, J., dissenting).

[54]. Id. at 662 (Blackmun, J., dissenting).

[55]. Id. at 663 (Stevens, J., dissenting).

[56]. Id. at 662 (Blackmun, J., dissenting).

[57]. Id. at 663 & n.3 (Stevens, J., dissenting).

[58]. See id. at 671–73 (stating that the majority reduced the weight of the employer’s burden of proof, discarded the requirement that the employment practice be essential, and increased the employee’s burden of proof of the causal link to a specific practice).

[59]. See id. at 673–78 (stating that the concept of relevant labor market is not susceptible to exact definition and should here include willingness to accept employment in the industry, and that evidence concerning plaintiffs’ job qualifications and wage differentials in the industry is persuasive despite the lack of precise numerical findings on those issues).

[60]. Id. at 674–75.

[61]. Id. at 674.

[62]. Id. at 676.

[63]. Id. at 664 n.4.

[64]. It is not surprising that the Supreme Court decided Martin v. Wilks, 490 U.S. 755 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 8, 105 Stat. 1074, 1076-77 (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(n) (2006)), the same year it decided Wards Cove.  In Wilks, the Court considered how to balance the rights of African-American employees, who entered a consent decree with the Birmingham Fire Department to correct a long history of discrimination, against the rights of white employees, who argued that they were losing job opportunities because of the decree.  Id. at 758.  Wilks was also legislatively overruled in the 1991 Act.  See Landgraf v. USI Film Prods., 511 U.S. 244, 251 (1994) (stating that section 108 of the 1991 Act responds to Wilks “by prohibiting certain challenges to employment practices implementing consent decrees”).

[65]. See, e.g., Neal Devins, Reagan Redux: Civil Rights Under Bush, 68 Notre Dame L. Rev. 955, 984 (1993).

[66]. Id. at 983; see also Charles A. Sullivan, Disparate Impact: Looking Past the Desert Palace Mirage, 47 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 911, 953–54 (2005) (suggesting that the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill controversy spurred President Bush to compromise).

[67]. Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 3(2) (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 1981a (2006)) (stating that a purpose of the 1991 Act was “to codify the concepts of ‘business necessity’ and ‘job related’ enunciated by the Supreme Court in Griggs v. Duke Power Co. and in the other Supreme Court decisions prior to Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio.” (citations omitted)).

[68]. Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 105(a) (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(k)(1)(A)(i)).

[69]. Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642, 659 (1989), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, 105 Stat. 1074, as recognized in Raytheon Co. v. Hernandez, 540 U.S. 44 (2003).

[70]. 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(k)(1)(A)(i).

[71]. 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(k)(1)(C).  What exactly this means is not entirely clear, as the meaning of “alternative employment practice” has never been completely clear.  See, e.g., Sullivan, supra note 66, at 963–64.

[72]. See Griggs v. Duke Power Co., 401 U.S. 424, 431 (1971).

[73]. 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(k)(1)(B)(i).

[74]. Id.

[75]. Selmi, supra note 6, at 738–40; cf. Sullivan, supra note 66, at 954 (noting the paucity of disparate impact cases since 1991).

[76]. 42 U.S.C. § 1981(b)(1) (2006).

[77]. Helen Norton, The Supreme Court’s Post-Racial Turn Towards a Zero-Sum Understanding of Equality, 52 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 197, 253–54 (2010).

[78]. 129 S. Ct. 2658 (2009).

[79]. Id. at 2671.

[80]. Id. at 2681.

[81]. Wards Cove, 490 U.S. at 663 & n.3 (Stevens, J., dissenting).

[82]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2702 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting).  Especially surprising here was that the majority granted summary judgment for the plaintiffs—a procedural anomaly at any level of the federal court system.

[83]. Id. at 2681 (majority opinion).

[84]. Id. at 2666.

[85]. Id. at 2665.

[86]. Id.

[87]. Id.

[88]. Id. at 2666.

[89]. Id. at 2677–78.

[90]. Id. at 2664.

[91]. Id. at 2667.

[92]. Id.

[93]. Id. at 2667–71.

[94]. Id. at 2671.

[95]. Id.

[96]. Id.  The Court of Appeals affirmed this grant of summary judgment.  Id. at 2672.

[97]. Id. at 2678.

[98]. Id. at 2681.

[99]. Id.

[100]. Id. at 2690–95 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting).

[101]. Id. at 2691.

[102]. Norton, supra note 77, at 221.

[103]. Id. at 2692.

[104]. Id.

[105]. See Norton, supra note 77, at 215–19.

[106]. See Henry L. Chambers, Jr., The Wild West of Supreme Court Employment Discrimination Jurisprudence, 61 S.C. L. Rev. 577, 584 (2010) (“Indeed, the Court seemed to suggest that the test actually tested merit.”).

[107]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2669 (majority opinion) (internal quotation marks omitted).

[108]. Id. at 2668 (alteration in original) (internal quotation marks omitted).

[109]. Id. at 2669 (alteration in original) (internal quotation marks omitted).

[110]. Id. at 2704–07 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting).

[111]. See Girardeau A. Spann, Disparate Impact, 98 Geo. L.J. 1133, 1154 (2010).

[112]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2673 (majority opinion).  Indeed, Justice Scalia concurs separately to note that the decision does not conclude that Title VII’s disparate impact provision is unconstitutional.  Id. at 2681–82 (Scalia, J., concurring).  That question, in his view, is one the Court will likely address in the future.  Id.

[113]. Justice Ginsburg seems to have understood this to be the majority’s new rule.  See id. at 2700 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting) (“Employers may attempt to comply with Title VII’s disparate-impact provision, the Court declares, only where there is a ‘strong basis in evidence’ documenting the necessity of their action.”).  This “strong basis in evidence” defense, which had never been applied in a Title VII case, was imported from a branch of the Supreme Court’s affirmative action jurisprudence.  Id. at 2662 (majority opinion).

[114]. Id. at 2677.

[115]. Id. at 2675–76 (citing City of Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co., 488 U.S. 469, 500 (1989) (plurality opinion)).

[116]. Id. at 2701–02 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting).

[117]. See Niall A. Paul, Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio: The Supreme Court’s Disparate Treatment of the Disparate Impact Doctrine, 8 Hofstra Lab. L.J. 127, 153 & nn.236–37 (1990) (recounting congressional reaction to Wards Cove and detailing the resulting legislation that was introduced); see also Candace S. Kovacic-Fleisher, Proving Discrimination After Price Waterhouse and Wards Cove: Semantics as Substance, 39 Am. U. L. Rev. 615, 666 (1990) (recommending legislation to restore basic burden of proof principles in disparate impact cases).

[118]. See Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 3, 105 Stat. 1071, 1071 (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 1981a (2006)).

[119]. See, e.g., Cheryl I. Harris & Kimberly West-Faulcon, Reading Ricci: Whitening Discrimination, Racing Test Fairness, 58 UCLA L. Rev. 73, 163–65 (2010).

[120]. Chambers, supra note 106, at 587.

[121]. Sullivan, supra note 1, at 207.

[122]. Wards Cove Packing Co. v. Atonio, 490 U.S. 642, 662 (1988) (Blackmun, J., dissenting), superseded by statute, Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, 105 Stat. 1074, as recognized in Raytheon Co. v. Hernandez, 540 U.S. 44 (2003).

[123]. Charles M. Blow, Op-Ed., Let’s Rescue the Race Debate, N.Y. Times, Nov. 20, 2010, at A19.

Article in PDF Form

By: Roberto L. Corrada*

Introduction

The standard for voluntary affirmative action[1] under Title VII has been in question in recent years.  The last United States Supreme Court opinion to directly address the matter is over twenty years old, and the Court’s composition has changed since then.  In the years since the last Title VII affirmative action opinion in 1987, Congress has passed the Civil Rights Act of 1991, and the constitutional standard for voluntary affirmative action has been addressed by the Court no fewer than five times.  The constitutional standard had been crafted by Justice Sandra Day O’Connor; but with her retirement, both the constitutional (Fourteenth Amendment) and the statutory (Title VII) standards for affirmative action have again been obscured.

A recent case, Ricci v. DeStefano,[2] although primarily a Title VII disparate treatment case, nonetheless contains dicta that sheds some light on the Court’s thinking about Title VII affirmative action.  Commentators trying to make sense of the Supreme Court’s confusing decision in the case have debated whether it spells doom for affirmative action or whether, as Professor Charles Sullivan puts it with respect to disparate impact theory, reports of the death of affirmative action as a result of Ricci might be exaggerated.[3]  I agree with those scholars who see Ricci as having left the door ajar for affirmative action plans under both constitutional and statutory standards, but for reasons on which other scholars have not focused.

This Article argues that Ricci, while having dealt a blow to disparate impact theory, has not necessarily dealt a fatal blow to affirmative action in the process.  Many believe that Ricci has no implications for affirmative action at all since the case’s facts involved no preferences for minorities.[4]  However, I believe that dicta in the case suggests how the Court may handle a Title VII affirmative action case in the future, even though I agree that no affirmative action issue was before the Court in Ricci.  The key to understanding Ricci and to anticipating the foreseeable future of affirmative action lies in understanding Justice Kennedy’s emerging views, assuming new Justices Sotomayor and Kagan follow relatively liberal paths.  Specifically, Justice Kennedy—stepping into the “swing-vote” role formerly held by Justice O’Connor—has adopted key elements of Justice O’Connor’s position on affirmative action: hostile and restrictive, yes, but not entirely opposed to it as are the more conservative members of the Court.

I begin in Part I by looking back at the two Supreme Court Title VII voluntary affirmative action cases: United Steelworkers of America v. Weber[5] and Johnson v. Transportation Agency.[6]  I then discuss the legal standard that emerged from those cases, and explore in Part II how that standard might have been affected indirectly by subsequent developments—including case law on affirmative action in the constitutional context, passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1991, Justice O’Connor’s retirement, and the Ricci case.  I argue in Part III that the legal standard for Title VII affirmative action has perhaps shifted, and that there are sufficient clues in constitutional case law and in the Ricci case to suggest what the legal standard has become.

I.  Private Voluntary Affirmative Action Under Title VII

After the famous 1978 affirmative action decision in Regents of the University of California v. Bakke—involving a public entity and the extent of its ability to craft a quota plan while still avoiding liability under the U.S. Constitution[7]—the Court turned its attention to affirmative action programs implemented by private entities, which are constrained only by Title VII.  The Court decided two cases within a decade that established a structural framework for voluntary affirmative action under Title VII.  In the first of these, United Steelworkers of America v. Weber,[8] decided the year after Bakke, the employer had established a controversial quota plan reserving half the slots in a specific training program for black workers only.[9]  The Gramercy, Louisiana plant for the Kaiser Aluminum & Chemical Corporation was located in an area where black workers made up nearly 40% of the entire workforce.[10]  Despite that number, the Gramercy plant had only five skilled craftworkers out of 273 (almost 2%) who were black.[11]  As a result, the United Steelworkers, a labor union, negotiated with Kaiser Aluminum to add a quota to ensure that 50% of all new trainees for its in-house training program at the Gramercy plant would be black, since some training was required for skilled craft positions.[12]

The Court upheld the plan.  Justice Brennan, writing for the majority, canvassed the language of Title VII, as well as its legislative history, to find that while affirmative action was not mandated by the statute, voluntary plans were permitted within certain bounds.[13]  In laying out these bounds, the Court first stated that an employer adopting a voluntary plan must be addressing a traditionally segregated employment opportunity that requires such action.[14]  Even then, the plan: (1) must not require the discharge of white workers in order to hire black workers; (2) must not serve as an absolute bar to the advancement of white workers; and (3) must be temporary, in that it can only be used to attain, and not to maintain, racial balance.[15]  The Court found that black workers had traditionally been kept out of the apprentice positions that served as a critical prerequisite for skilled craft jobs at the Kaiser Aluminum Gramercy plant.[16]  The Court further found that since the quota was 50% for each training program, the plan did not serve as an absolute bar to white workers, nor did it require discharge of those workers.[17]  It also found the measure to be temporary, since the plan was expressly going to be terminated upon attainment of its goal—black workers constituting 36% of the skilled craftworker population in the Gramercy plant, reflecting the total percentage of black workers in the relevant labor market.[18]

The prospects for female employees at the Santa Clara Transportation Agency were little better than for black workers at Kaiser Aluminum when the Agency set up its own affirmative action plan for women in skilled craft positions.[19]  As is often the case, voluntary affirmative action plans are set up by employers facing potential Title VII liability due to a dearth of women or minorities in particular positions.[20]  Though 22% of Agency employees were women, none of the 238 workers in skilled craft positions were women.[21]  Women at the Agency occupied positions in which women were traditionally represented, including office, clerical, and paraprofessional jobs.[22]  As a result of the skewed demographics of the Santa Clara Agency workforce, the County adopted an affirmative action plan for women, with the goal of eventually getting the workforce to reflect the relevant job-market demographic for women, which was 36%.[23]  The plan was explicitly a “goal” plan instead of a quota plan, requiring no particular percentage of female hiring in any given year.[24]  In 1980, the Agency hired one woman, whose gender was a factor in her being employed over a male applicant who had ranked a couple of points higher on the oral examination (he had achieved a score of seventy-five to her seventy-three).[25]  The Supreme Court’s eventual decision in Johnson v. Transportation Agency upheld the hiring and the affirmative action plan, citing the test established in Weber eight years earlier.[26]  In upholding the plan, the Court specifically noted that the target job was in a traditionally segregated job category, that the plan was goal based (even less intrusive on the rights of the majority than was the quota plan in Weber), and that the plan was temporary.[27]

Critically, in both the Johnson and Weber cases, the Supreme Court allowed Title VII voluntary plans to be justified using general labor-force statistics.[28]  The plans were upheld not only because there was a dearth of minorities or women in the particular jobs that had been traditionally occupied by majority-class workers, but also because the plans had stopping points, or goals, reflected by the minority population in the overall workforce.[29]  The Gramercy locale had 40% black workers and the Santa Clara locale had 36% women in their respective labor markets.  The Court allowed the plans to be founded on these very general workforce markers.[30]

II.  The Fourteenth Amendment Equal Protection Clause’s Public Voluntary Affirmative Action Standard

The key jurist on affirmative action has been Justice Sandra Day O’Connor.[31]  On the Court from 1981 until 2006, she was involved in the Johnson case on the Title VII side and wrote for the majority or plurality in City of Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co.,[32] Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena,[33] and Grutter v. Bollinger[34] (as well as the concurrence in Gratz v. Bollinger[35]) on the public sector/Fourteenth Amendment side before stepping down from the Court in 2006.  Justice O’Connor has been the driving force or had a hand in six of the eight full United States Supreme Court decisions on constitutional and statutory voluntary affirmative action.[36]  Although Justice O’Connor is often cited for her majority opinions, which form the body of the Court’s thinking on affirmative action, her concurring opinion in an early case, Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education,[37] may be the best opinion to analyze to understand her thinking on the subject.  In Wygant, Justice O’Connor transparently puzzles through what would ultimately become the foundation of her philosophy on affirmative action.  Moreover, the Wygant concurrence has taken on even more meaning now, as Justice Anthony Kennedy—O’Connor’s successor as the key vote on affirmative action[38]—has prominently cited to it in his majority opinion in Ricci.  It is this notable reliance that makes Ricci suggestive regarding the future of voluntary affirmative action under Title VII.

Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education was decided in 1986 and was the next Supreme Court case on voluntary affirmative action brought under the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause after Bakke.[39]  The Court in Wygant confronted an affirmative action plan that protected newly hired minority teachers from termination.[40]  The Board of Education of Jackson, Michigan—in an attempt to redress rampant racial discrimination in teacher hiring—adopted an affirmative action hiring plan, but realized that any layoffs, especially mass layoffs in response to an economic downturn, would quickly erase any affirmative action gains.[41]  In response, the Board, working with the teacher’s union, adopted an additional termination-protection plan.  That plan provided as follows:

In the event that it becomes necessary to reduce the number of teachers through layoff from employment by the Board, teachers with the most seniority in the district shall be retained, except that at no time will there be a greater percentage of minority personnel laid off than the current percentage of minority personnel employed at the time of the layoff.[42]

The Wygant case was filed after two separate years of layoffs in which some less senior minority teachers were retained, while some more senior majority teachers were let go.[43]  The Court struck down the layoff-protection plan as a violation of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause.[44]  In doing so, the Court inquired as to whether any compelling state interest justified the plan and examined the means used to accomplish that interest.  The Jackson Board of Education justified its layoff protection plan in two ways.  First, the Board maintained that minority students needed minority role models in teaching positions and pointed to the fact that the percentage of minority teachers was lower than the percentage of minority students in the school.[45]  Second, the Board argued that the city’s history of racial discrimination justified the layoff-protection plan as a remedial measure.[46]  With respect to the first argument—the “role model” theory—the Court stated that societal discrimination is not enough to justify a role-model approach and that, in any case, the role-model approach had no link to past discrimination by the school district, nor did it have any logical stopping point.[47]  With respect to the second argument—remedying past discrimination—the Court found that the layoff-protection plan had been originally instituted without sufficient evidence documenting actual past discrimination by the Jackson School Board.[48]  Any showing of discrimination was made only in the context of the lawsuit, after the challenged plan was implemented.

Regardless of the Board’s interest in creating the layoff-protection plan, the Court stated that the plan would fail under the Fourteenth Amendment in any case because it was “not sufficiently narrowly tailored” to meet that interest.[49]  According to the Court, while there are times when race must be taken into account in formulating a remedy, the burden imposed on the majority class by race-based remedies must be kept to a minimum to withstand constitutional strict scrutiny.[50]  The Court found that hiring goals impose such a minimal burden, presumably because a person who is denied a job has not yet developed the expectation that comes with having the position.  According to the Court, though, layoff protection imposes a harsher injury on the majority class because the loss of an existing job is more intrusive than is the denial of a prospective future opportunity.[51]

Justice O’Connor’s concurrence in Wygant lays bare her developing thinking on affirmative action.  First, Justice O’Connor emphasizes that she favors voluntary action by employers, and especially public employers, to remedy past discrimination.[52]  She agrees with the plurality, however, that rationales based on remedying general societal discrimination or role-model theories are not sufficient bases on which to anchor voluntary efforts.[53]  According to O’Connor:

The imposition of a requirement that public employers make findings that they have engaged in illegal discrimination before they engage in affirmative action programs would severely undermine public employers’ incentive to meet voluntarily their civil rights obligations.  This result would clearly be at odds with this Court’s and Congress’ consistent emphasis on “the value of voluntary efforts to further the objectives of the law.”  The value of voluntary compliance is doubly important when it is a public employer that acts, both because of the example its voluntary assumption of responsibility sets and because the remediation of governmental discrimination is of unique importance.[54]

In Wygant, O’Connor asks by implication, if societal discrimination is not enough to ground voluntary remedial efforts by the government, what would motivate voluntary action short of requiring the government to make out an entire case of discriminatory liability against itself?[55]  Justice O’Connor suggests that requiring too much by way of evidence would serve as a strong disincentive to voluntary action.  Accordingly, she notes, a required finding of prior antecedent or contemporaneous discrimination is too much.[56]  Nonetheless, public employers must have a “sufficient basis” for imposing affirmative action measures.[57]

Justice O’Connor then finds this “sufficient basis” in the statistical analysis approved in Hazelwood School District v. United States,[58] a case involving systemic, pattern, or practice discrimination under Title VII.[59]  As she explains, a statistical comparison of the percentage of minority employees in target jobs to the percentage of minorities in the relevant labor market is sufficient to establish a prima facie case of systemic discrimination and should likewise provide a “firm basis” for remedial affirmative action.[60]  Justice O’Connor notes that imposing such a strong requirement would neither make the employer automatically liable nor make the affirmative action plan unassailable.[61]  Indeed, the statistical finding illustrated in Hazelwood creates a prima facie case of discrimination, but named plaintiffs and anecdotal evidence of discrimination would have to accompany the statistics to actually prove systemic discrimination resulting in liability, thus allowing an employer to make a statistical case without finding actual liability against itself.[62]  O’Connor concludes her concurrence by applying her construct to the facts at hand in Wygant.[63]  She explains that the statistical comparison of minority teachers to minority students is irrelevant to the issue of employment discrimination: “[I]t is only when it is established that the availability of minorities in the relevant labor pool substantially exceeded those hired that one may draw an inference of deliberate discrimination in employment.”[64]

Justice O’Connor’s thinking on affirmative action, revealed in Wygant, became cemented a few years later in City of Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co.[65]  In Croson, the City of Richmond had created an affirmative action plan for hiring minority contractors.[66]  As was the case with the City of Jackson in Wygant, Richmond also had its substantial share of racial strife and past discrimination.  The City Council decided that since the population of the city was 50% African American, it was only logical that a substantial number of its contractors should be drawn from the ranks of minority-owned enterprises.[67]  The City thus established a substantial goal for prime contractors to award 30%, based on total dollar amounts, of their city-project subcontracts to minority-owned enterprises.[68]  Justice O’Connor, writing for the plurality, emphasized that to lawfully establish an affirmative action plan, the City had to show actual discrimination with “some specificity before [it could] use race-conscious relief.”[69]  According to O’Connor, the comparison to the city population was irrelevant to the issue of proving discrimination in contracting (this was similar to her reaction to the comparison between teacher and student populations advanced in Wygant).  Instead, the City should have identified the disparity between two figures—the percentage of dollar amounts awarded to minority contractors by Richmond and the percentage of qualified minority contractors in the relevant market.[70]  When these statistics are used, the percentages change markedly.  Richmond awarded only 0.67% of its prime contracts to minority firms during the relevant time period.[71]  However, evidence indicated that the percentage of qualified minority contractor firms in the national market at the time was only 4.7%, and that a large percentage of those firms were concentrated in just five other states.[72]  Even if a standard deviation of greater than two or three were produced statistically in the Croson case (assuming Richmond was representative of the national market), the maximum goal of any affirmative action plan would have to be the market percentage—about 5%.

The bottom line for voluntary affirmative action plans, subject to constitutional scrutiny under the Fourteenth Amendment after Croson, is that they can only be adopted after the relevant governmental unit produces a “firm” or “strong” basis in evidence that actual discrimination has occurred.[73]  The firm or strong basis refers to the amount of evidence sufficient to make out a prima facie case of systemic discrimination under Title VII, consistent with the Court’s decision in Hazelwood.  This much is made plain by a close analysis of Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant, followed by her plurality opinion in Croson.  Importantly, Justice Kennedy, the new swing vote on affirmative action and the author of the majority opinion in Ricci, joined Justice O’Connor in Croson.[74]

III.  Ricci v. DeStefano: Predicting a Shift in the Standard for Private Voluntary Affirmative Action Under Title VII

A.            Relevant Facts of Ricci

The facts of the Ricci case have now been rehashed dozens of times in scholarly articles.[75]  The critical facts for purposes of this Article are the following.  The City of New Haven developed and administered officer-promotion exams for lieutenant and captain positions within its fire department.[76]  These examinations were developed over a period of time with the involvement of experts.[77]  The exams included a written component, worth 60% of the final exam score, and an oral component, worth 40% of the final score.[78]  This balance was struck in the collective bargaining agreement between the firefighter union and the City of New Haven.[79]  In addition, a City rule required that each promotion went to someone with one of the top three scores on a given exam.[80]  For the lieutenant exam, seventy-seven applicants took the exam (forty-three Caucasian, nineteen African American, and fifteen Hispanic), thirty-four of whom passed the exam (twenty-five Caucasian (60%), six African American (30%), and three Hispanic (20%)).[81]  For the captain exam, there were forty-one applicants (twenty-five Caucasian, eight African American, and eight Hispanic), twenty-two of whom passed the exam (sixteen Caucasian (65%), three African American (40%), and three Hispanic (40%)).[82]  Unfortunately, the tests produced a disparate impact against minority takers under the very rough, traditional disparate impact test known as the “80% rule.”[83]  Under the 80% statistical rule, an impact on minorities from a test is disparate for purposes of making out a prima facie case under Title VII if the pass rate for minority-class takers is less than 80% of the pass rate for majority-class takers.[84]

In Ricci, the 80% rule was met.  On the lieutenant exam, the pass rate for African-American takers was only about 55% of the Caucasian pass rate (32% vs. 58%), and the pass rate for Latino takers was even lower, at about 34% (20% vs. 58%).[85]  On the captain exam, there were similar results.  The pass rate for both African Americans and Latinos was 38%, about 60% of the Caucasian pass rate, and also within the 80% requirement.[86]  Because this created prima facie disparate impact liability, the City of New Haven chose to discard the test results.[87]  In the end, the Supreme Court narrowly held that the City of New Haven should not have discarded the tests, because of the race-based disadvantage or disparate treatment caused to the white firefighters who had taken and passed the tests.  The Court found that Title VII would not support a disparate treatment violation (here, discrimination against whites caused by nullifying the test results) in order to address only a prima facie case of disparate impact liability (the City of New Haven had uncovered a prima facie case of disparate impact liability based on the 80% rule, but had not uncovered strong evidence of an actual case of disparate impact liability).[88]  The Court stated, however, that test results could be discarded if the City of New Haven had uncovered a “strong basis in evidence” of an actual case of disparate impact liability, but held that no such showing of disparate impact liability existed in the New Haven scenario; while there was an impact, the City had not gone further to analyze whether the tests also failed the “business necessity/job-relatedness” and “alternative means” prongs of the full disparate impact analysis in order to have a “strong basis” for finding liability.[89]

B.            Ricci’s Holding Limited to Tests Already Taken

The Court’s decision in Ricci must be interpreted narrowly for the full decision (holding and dicta) to make sense.  The square holding of the case is that when a test has a disparate impact, the employer must be able to show a “strong basis in evidence” for Title VII disparate impact liability from the lower-passing group before that employer may discard the test results; only by following this proof structure may the employer avoid potential disparate treatment liability to the higher-passing group.[90]  As related to tests already taken, a “strong basis in evidence” means an employer finding of potential disparate impact liability, as opposed to a mere prima facie case.  The public employer must show not only that the tests had a disparate impact on the basis of race, but also that there was no adequate business necessity for the tests, or if there was an adequate business necessity, that no alternative measure or test that accomplished the employer’s business goals, but with less impact, was available.[91]

There are solid indications in the Ricci decision that the holding is limited to tests that have already been administered.[92]  First, the Court explicitly states that the violation occurred in “discarding the test results,”[93] and not in the efforts of the City to create a fair test.[94]  Second, despite its overall holding in Ricci, the Court takes great pains to explain, in dicta, that voluntary actions to remedy discrimination (short of discarding tests, apparently) are important and would be chilled if a public employer had to find actual disparate impact liability against itself before attempting to remedy racial discrimination.[95]  For example, in answering petitioner arguments urging that compliance cannot ever be a defense unless actual disparate impact liability is shown first, the Court states as follows:

Again, this is overly simplistic and too restrictive of Title VII’s purpose.  The rule petitioners offer would run counter to what we have recognized as Congress’s intent that “voluntary compliance” be “the preferred means of achieving the objectives of Title VII.”  Forbidding employers to act unless they know, with certainty, that a practice violates the disparate-impact provision would bring compliance efforts to a near standstill.  Even in the limited situations when this restricted standard could be met, employers likely would hesitate before taking voluntary action for fear of later being proven wrong in the course of litigation and then held to account for disparate treatment.[96]

Obviously, the foregoing statement by the Court would make no sense if the latter part of the decision—which required the City of New Haven to have strong evidence of potential disparate impact liability before discarding tests—applied to all attempts by an employer to eradicate past racial discrimination, including through affirmative action programs.  Indeed, the Court here cites to Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant, in which she suggests that the City of Jackson, Michigan might have escaped liability for its affirmative action plan (limiting minority-teacher terminations) if it had based its remedial efforts on a statistical showing sufficient to make out a prima facie case of systemic discrimination liability, rather than just on an impact case.[97]  As shown prior, Justice Kennedy subscribes to Justice O’Connor’s thinking on this issue.  Third, the Court explains its decision about the discarded tests by invoking the reliance interest of the test takers (mainly related to the effort involved in studying for a particular test)—an interest that would not exist if the remedial actions were taken at the design stage, pre-administration.[98]

C.            The Future of Title VII Affirmative Action

An interesting question after Ricci is what may an employer voluntarily do under Title VII if it faces (as did the City of New Haven) a vastly segregated workforce and desires to address the discrimination?  What does Ricci’s “strong basis in evidence” rule mean, if anything, in the affirmative action context?  We know, after Ricci, that the employer cannot discard test results that have an adverse impact against a protected class unless the employer can show it faces potential disparate impact liability if it were to keep the results.  We also know that an employer can take any action to ensure that its testing or selection criteria are fair.[99]  But what if an employer chooses to address the segregation by implementing affirmative action remedies—say a goal plan for hiring or promotion, like the one used in Johnson?[100]  The relevant case law for Title VII affirmative action is Johnson and Weber—discussed earlier in this Article—which allow such plans based on general labor force statistics, rather than on a statistical test that analyzes the makeup of the workplace in relation to the makeup of the qualified labor pool.[101]  However, those cases are now dated and likely do not reflect the current thinking of the Court in these matters.[102]

If the Ricci holding is limited to discarding tests already taken, are there any clues in the case’s dicta about how the Court perceives Title VII affirmative action programs—voluntary remedial preferences to address workplace racial disparities?  It turns out there are.  For example, it seems clear that a majority of the Court still favors voluntary remedial action, including affirmative action by employers, and thinks that such action is consistent with Title VII and the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.[103]  The Ricci Court cites twice to Croson and once to Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant to underscore the importance of voluntary remedial actions, and affirmative action, as a part of Title VII compliance.  Of course, the citation to Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant, I argue, is also an intentional nod to her view that it is particularly important for the government to take the lead in voluntary compliance efforts, given the especially pernicious history of the government’s role in racial discrimination.  Wygant is an affirmative action case, even though Ricci is not.[104]  The Court cites to these cases also to emphasize the “strong basis in evidence” idea as having come from Croson and O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant.  The Ricci decision thus strongly suggests the introduction of a new legal standard for Title VII affirmative action, forged in the context of the already-existing standard for affirmative action under the Equal Protection Clause of the U.S. Constitution.[105]  Instead of citing to Johnson or Weber regarding the proper Title VII analysis for voluntary remedial action, the Court cites constitutional affirmative action precedent.  As the Court states:

In searching for a standard that strikes a more appropriate balance, we note that this Court has considered cases similar to this one, albeit in the context of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.  The Court has held that certain government actions to remedy past racial discrimination—actions that are themselves based on race—are constitutional only where there is a “‘strong basis in evidence’” that the remedial actions were necessary.  This suit does not call on us to consider whether the statutory constraints under Title VII must be parallel in all respects to those under the Constitution.  That does not mean the constitutional authorities are irrelevant, however.  Our cases discussing constitutional principles can provide helpful guidance in this statutory context.[106]

The Court appears to be signaling a shift in its standard for affirmative action under Title VII.  The Ricci case announces a “strong basis in evidence” standard and explains that, in the context of tests already taken, a city must have evidence of imminent disparate impact liability before it can discard such tests.[107]  However, the Court goes on to state that applying such a standard to all voluntary remedial actions would chill these efforts, and indicates that for these other efforts, a “strong basis in evidence” is consistent with standards already developed under the Equal Protection Clause.[108]  The Court expressly states that these cases can serve as useful guidance under Title VII.[109]

Those citations to Croson, and perhaps especially to Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant, invoke O’Connor’s idea of a prima facie statistical case of systemic discrimination (as opposed to impact) as being strong enough to ground voluntary remedial efforts.  Therefore, “strong basis in evidence” means—consistent with Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant and majority opinion in Croson—a statistical showing disciplined by a technical analysis (minimally a standard-deviation test and maximally a multiple-linear-regression analysis) in affirmative action or voluntary remediation cases in which a test has not yet been given.  Croson and Wygant are not testing cases.

After Ricci, I believe that the City of New Haven could take more aggressive affirmative action measures (instead of, or simultaneously with, changing its testing criteria for future promotions).  For example, the City of New Haven could use a statistical test to compare the percentage of minority firefighter officers to the percentage of minority firefighters (or even the hiring pool from which New Haven firefighters are drawn).  If the result is greater than two or three standard deviations, the City can take affirmative action to fix the problem.  The City could institute a goal plan to reach a percentage of minority firefighters consistent with the percentage in the appropriate labor pool.  In addition, the City could provide free study materials to minorities, additional training for minority officer candidates, and could act to step up minority recruitment.  In short, the City could implement any number of preferences for minorities in order to address the systemic discrimination that apparently exists in the fire department, and that would be revealed by the application of more searching statistical methods.


* Professor, University of Denver Sturm College of Law.  The author thanks Professor Wendy Parker and the Wake Forest Law Review for an informative, well-run, and impressively well-attended Symposium.  The author thanks Charles Sullivan, Steve Willborn, Alan Chen, Michael Selmi, Justin Driver, Kimberly West-Faulcon, David Schwartz, Randy Wagner, and the Colorado Employment and Labor Law Faculty (Melissa Hart, Martin Katz, Scott Moss, Helen Norton, Nantiya Ruan, and Catherine Smith) for their comments on this Article.  All errors are the author’s.

[1]. Although it is perhaps a question of some debate, for purposes of this Article, “affirmative action” involves only voluntary efforts by an employer to remedy past discrimination in a race-conscious way by adopting goals, or possibly even quotas, or by creating preferences on the basis of race or gender.  “Affirmative action” does not encompass employer attempts to ensure that selection criteria apply to all persons equally and that such criteria do not discriminate against minorities.  See Helen Norton, The Supreme Court’s Post-Racial Turn Towards a Zero-Sum Understanding of Equality, 52 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 197, 244–46 (2010) (explaining the legal distinctions between these two types of programs).  But see George Rutherglen, Ricci v DeStefano: Affirmative Action and the Lessons of Adversity, 2009 Sup. Ct. Rev. 83, 110–11 (examining different approaches to disparate impact theory and concluding that certain “forms of race-conscious action,” such as mandatory affirmative action plans and readjustment of test scores, “are too coercive, and perhaps too clear, to fit the long-standing consensus on affirmative action”).

[2]. 129 S. Ct. 2658 (2009).

[3]. See generally Charles A. Sullivan, Ricci v. DeStefano: End of the Line or Just Another Turn on the Disparate Impact Road?, 104 Nw. U. L. Rev. 411 (2010).

[4]. See, e.g., Rutherglen, supra note 1, at 83, 94–95.  These scholars cite to Justice Ginsburg’s dissent in the case, in which she wrote that “New Haven’s action, which gave no individual a preference, ‘was simply not analogous to a quota system or a minority set-aside where candidates, on the basis of their race, are not treated uniformly.’”  Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2696 (Ginsburg, J., dissenting) (quoting Ricci v. DeStefano, 554 F. Supp. 2d 142, 157 (D. Conn. 2006) (internal quotation marks omitted)).

[5]. 443 U.S. 193 (1979).

[6]. 480 U.S. 616 (1987).

[7]. Regents of the Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 269–71 (1978).

[8]. 443 U.S. 193 (1979).  For important background information and context relating to the Weber case, especially regarding the United Steelworkers’ involvement in affirmative action efforts in government contracting, see generally Deborah Malamud, The Story of United Steelworkers of America v. Weber, in Employment Discrimination Stories 173 (Joel Wm. Friedman ed., 2006).

[9]. Weber, 443 U.S. at 197–98.

[10]. Id. at 199.

[11]. Id. at 198.

[12]. Id. at 199.

[13]. Id. at 201–08.

[14]. See id. at 208 (noting that both Title VII and the challenged affirmative action plan “were structured to ‘open employment opportunities for Negroes in occupations which have been traditionally closed to them’” (quoting 110 Cong. Rec. 6548 (1964) (statement of Sen. Hubert Humphrey))).

[15]. Id. at 208.

[16]. Id. at 198–99, 222–23.

[17]. Id. at 208.

[18]. Id. at 208–09.

[19]. Johnson v. Transp. Agency, Santa Clara Cnty., Cal., 480 U.S. 616, 621 (1987).

[20]. See id. at 653 (O’Connor, J., concurring).

[21]. Id. at 621 (majority opinion).

[22]. Id. at 616.

[23]. Id. at 621–22.

[24]. Id. at 622.

[25]. Id. at 623–25.

[26]. Id. at 640–42.

[27]. Id. at 640.

[28]. Id. at 635; United Steelworkers of Am. v. Weber, 443 U.S. 193, 208–09 (1979).

[29]. Johnson, 480 U.S. at 635–36; Weber, 443 U.S. at 208–09.

[30]. There has been some suggestion that the Civil Rights Act of 1991 changed and hardened the standard for affirmative action, but that does not seem to be the case.  Section 116 of the 1991 Act expressly states that the amendments have no impact on affirmative action.  Civil Rights Act of 1991, Pub. L. No. 102-166, § 116, 105 Stat. 1071, 1079.  Despite a memorandum in the Act’s legislative history by then-Senator Robert Dole suggesting that codification of the mixed-motive standard created a hurdle for race-conscious action of any kind, 137 Cong. Rec. S15,477 (daily ed. Oct. 30, 1991) (memorandum of Sen. Robert Dole), federal courts have rejected this view (most likely because there was not enough guidance from Congress on the issue).  See, e.g., Gilligan v. Dep’t of Labor, 81 F.3d 835, 840 (9th Cir. 1996); Officers for Justice v. Civil Serv. Comm’n, 979 F.2d 721, 725 (9th Cir. 1992); Hannon v. Chater, 887 F. Supp. 1303, 1316–18 (N.D. Cal. 1995).  Section 106 of the Act prohibits race-norming tests (altering or modifying test results on the basis of race), but that provision has been narrowly applied and likely only prohibits what the Supreme Court already condemned in Connecticut v. Teal, 457 U.S. 440 (1982).  Civil Rights Act of 1991 § 106; 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(l) (2006).  See Chi. Firefighters Local 2 v. City of Chicago, 249 F.3d 649, 656 (7th Cir. 2001) (holding that section 106 does not apply to test “banding,” or treating all scores within a certain range the same way); Hayden v. Cnty. of Nassau, 180 F.3d 42, 53 (2d Cir. 1999) (holding that section 106 does not apply to an employer’s attempts to create a test with the slightest possible adverse impact on racial minorities); Alfred W. Blumrosen, Society in Transition IV: Affirmation of Affirmative Action Under the Civil Rights Act of 1991, 45 Rutgers L. Rev. 903, 908–09, 913 (1993); Nelson Lund, The Law of Affirmative Action in and After the Civil Rights Act of 1991: Congress Invites Judicial Reform, 6 Geo. Mason L. Rev. 87, 89–91 (1997).

[31]. See Girardeau A. Spann, The Dark Side of Grutter, 21 Const. Comment. 221, 226–27 (2004).

[32]. 488 U.S. 469, 476 (1989).

[33]. 515 U.S. 200, 204 (1995).

[34]. 539 U.S. 306, 311 (2003).

[35]. 539 U.S. 244, 276 (2003) (O’Connor, J., concurring).

[36]. See Goodwin Liu, The Bush Administration and Civil Rights: Lessons Learned, 4 Duke J. Const. L. & Pub. Pol’y 77, 97 (2009) (discussing Justice O’Connor’s role in affirmative action cases).

[37]. 476 U.S. 267, 284 (1986) (O’Connor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment).

[38]. See Norton, supra note 1, at 248; Ilya Shapiro, A Faint-Hearted Libertarian at Best: The Sweet Mystery of Justice Anthony Kennedy, 33 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 333, 348 (2010) (book review) (“[A]t the very least it is safe to say that, for the foreseeable future, the outcome of race cases will all depend upon Justice Kennedy.”).

[39]. See Wygant, 476 U.S. at 273.

[40]. Id. at 270.

[41]. Id. at 298 (Marshall, J., dissenting).

[42]. Id. at 270 (plurality opinion).

[43]. Id. at 272.

[44]. Id. at 272–73.

[45]. Id. at 274.

[46]. Id. at 277.

[47]. Id. at 275–76.

[48]. Id. at 277–78.

[49]. Id. at 283.

[50]. Id. at 279–81.

[51]. Id. at 282–83.

[52]. Id. at 290 (O’Connor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment).

[53]. Id. at 288.

[54]. Id. at 290 (citations omitted) (quoting Regents of the Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 364 (1978) (Brennan, J., concurring in the judgment in part and dissenting in part)) (citing S. Rep. No. 92-415, at 10 (1971) (accompanying the amendments extending coverage of Title VII to the States) (“Discrimination by government . . . serves a doubly destructive purpose.  The exclusion of minorities from effective participation in the bureaucracy not only promotes ignorance of minority problems in that particular community, but also creates mistrust, alienation, and all too often hostility toward the entire process of government.”)).

[55]. Id. at 290–91.

[56]. Id. at 291 (“As is illustrated by this case, public employers are trapped between the competing hazards of liability to minorities if affirmative action is not taken to remedy apparent employment discrimination and liability to nonminorities if affirmative action is taken.  Where these employers, who are presumably fully aware both of their duty under federal law to respect the rights of all their employees and of their potential liability for failing to do so, act on the basis of information which gives them a sufficient basis for concluding that remedial action is necessary, a contemporaneous findings requirement should not be necessary.”).

[57]. See id.

[58]. Id. at 294 (citing Hazelwood Sch. Dist. v. United States, 433 U.S. 299, 308 (1977)).

[59]. Hazelwood, 433 U.S. at 301.  The U.S. Supreme Court’s approved standard for proving discrimination through statistics is a standard-deviation (binomial-distribution) analysis, although a more sophisticated linear-regression analysis is also acceptable.  See Bazemore v. Friday, 478 U.S. 385, 399–400 (1986) (Brennan, J., concurring in part) (explaining the role of regression analysis); Castaneda v. Partida, 430 U.S. 482, 496 & n.17 (1977) (explaining and applying binomial distribution and standard deviation); Hazelwood, 433 U.S. at 311 & n.17 (same); Dianne Avery et al., Employment Discrimination Law 205–10 (8th ed. 2010) (explaining the various statistical measures used by litigants in proving employment discrimination claims).  Lesser statistical measures than these will not suffice statistically to prove discrimination since they do not meet the statistical significance rule, which requires a showing that any disparity is not due to mere chance.  Id. at 205.  For more on Hazelwood, see generally Stewart J. Schwab & Steven L. Willborn, The Story of Hazelwood: Employment Discrimination by the Numbers, in Employment Discrimination Stories, supra note 8, at 37, 37–63.

[60]. Wygant, 476 U.S. at 292 (“[I]n order to provide some measure of protection to the interests of its nonminority employees and the employer itself in the event that its affirmative action plan is challenged, the public employer must have a firm basis for determining that affirmative action is warranted.  Public employers are not without reliable benchmarks in making this determination.  For example, demonstrable evidence of a disparity between the percentage of qualified blacks on a school’s teaching staff and the percentage of qualified minorities in the relevant labor pool sufficient to support a prima facie Title VII pattern or practice claim by minority teachers would lend a compelling basis for a competent authority such as the School Board to conclude that implementation of a voluntary affirmative action plan is appropriate to remedy apparent prior employment discrimination.” (emphasis added)).

[61]. Id. (“If a voluntary affirmative action plan is subsequently challenged in court by nonminority employees, those employees must be given the opportunity to prove that the plan does not meet the constitutional standard this Court has articulated.  However, as the plurality suggests, the institution of such a challenge does not automatically impose upon the public employer the burden of convincing the court of its liability for prior unlawful discrimination; nor does it mean that the court must make an actual finding of prior discrimination based on the employer’s proof before the employer’s affirmative action plan will be upheld.  In ‘reverse discrimination’ suits, as in any other suit, it is the plaintiffs who must bear the burden of demonstrating that their rights have been violated.” (citation omitted)).

[62]. See Hazelwood, 433 U.S. at 311 & n.17, 312.  Though the Court has indicated in dicta that statistics alone may be enough to prove actionable discrimination, this statement may be limited to egregious cases in which minority hiring is nonexistent.  See, e.g., Int’l Bhd. of Teamsters v. United States, 431 U.S. 324, 342 n.23 (1977) (“[T]he company’s inability to rebut the inference of discrimination came not from a misuse of statistics but from ‘the inexorable zero.’”); see also 2 Barbara T. Lindemann & Paul Grossman, Equal Emp’t Opportunity Comm., Am. Bar Ass’n, Employment Discrimination Law 2306 (C. Geoffrey Weirich ed., 4th ed. 2007) (“Courts recognize that evidence of the ‘inexorable zero’—a failure to hire any members of a protected class—by itself may support an inference of intentional discrimination under the disparate treatment theory.” (footnotes omitted)).

[63]. Wygant, 476 U.S. at 294.

[64]. Id. (citing Hazelwood, 433 U.S. at 308).

[65]. 488 U.S. 469 (1989).

[66]. Id. at 477–80.

[67]. Id. at 479–80.

[68]. Id. at 477.

[69]. Id. at 504.  Justice Scalia has characterized the standard as requiring a “strong basis in evidence.”  See Concrete Works of Colo., Inc. v. City & Cnty. of Denver, Colo., 540 U.S. 1027, 1029 (2003) (Scalia, J., dissenting from denial of petition for writ of certiorari) (quoting Shaw v. Hunt, 517 U.S. 899, 910 (1996)).  Justice O’Connor characterizes the standard as a requirement for a “firm” basis in evidence in Wygant, but then refers to a test of statistical significance as requiring a “strong” basis in evidence in Croson.  Compare Wygant, 476 U.S. at 286 (O’Connor, J., concurring), with Croson, 488 U.S. at 510 (plurality opinion) (quoting Wygant, 476 U.S. at 277 (plurality opinion)).  Justice Kennedy refers to the same basic proof requirement in Ricci as a “strong basis in evidence.”  Ricci v. DeStefano, 129 S. Ct. 2658, 2664 (2009).  In the end, it doesn’t matter that much whether the requirement is characterized as “firm” or “strong,” so long as it is understood to be the same standard.

[70]. Croson, 488 U.S. at 503.  To Justice O’Connor, only this comparison could give rise to the proper inference of discrimination.  See id.  This is essentially the standard that Justice O’Connor outlines in Wygant, as evidenced by her concurring opinion in that case.

[71]. Id. at 479–80.

[72]. Id. at 481.

[73]. See id. at 500 (quoting Wygant, 476 U.S. at 277).  For a discussion of the “firm” versus “strong” language, see supra note 69.

[74]. See id. at 476.  Particularly noteworthy is the fact that Justice Kennedy joins Part V of Justice O’Connor’s plurality opinion in Croson, in which Justice O’Connor details how the City of Richmond might have proceeded on its own to rectify discrimination using the proper labor-pool analysis.  See id. at 509–11.

[75]. See, e.g., Norton, supra note 1, at 216–18; Rutherglen, supra note 1, at 83–91; Sullivan, supra note 3, at 414–15, 418–19.

[76]. Ricci v. DeStefano, 129 S. Ct. 2658, 2665 (2009).

[77]. Id. at 2665–66.

[78]. Id. at 2665.

[79]. Id.

[80]. Id.

[81]. Id. at 2666.

[82]. Id.

[83]. There are two types of disparate impact cases: those cases based on a single selection criterion, see, e.g., Griggs v. Duke Power Co., 401 U.S. 424, 433–34, 436 (1971) (possession of a high school diploma or passage of intelligence test), and those cases based on multiple selection criteria, typically involving subjective elements, like interviews, see, e.g., Watson v. Fort Worth Bank & Trust, 487 U.S. 977, 982, 989–91 (1988) (supervisory interviews and recommendations).  In a single selection criterion case, a specified selection criterion is used by the employer to make hiring or promotion decisions.  The single criterion could be a written or oral examination (as in Ricci), a typing test, or even a height and weight requirement.  When test results are examined, differing pass rates of race groups can be analyzed.  If there is a great disparity, which for policy purposes exists with a rate for one group of takers that is less than 80% of the pass rate for the highest-passing group, the test is viewed as defective and will have to be dropped unless the employer can show that the criterion is job related and consistent with business necessity.  Those questioning the test can still prevail even if the employer shows business necessity if they can produce a better test, presumably one roughly achieving the employer’s business goals, but with less of a disparate impact.  1 Lindemann & Grossman, supra note 62, at 122–24, 128–32.

In the multiple selection criteria case, there are a variety of elements that go into selection of employees.  Typically included among these are subjective elements, like interview scores.  In these cases, it may be impossible to point to a single component that produces a disparate impact in hiring.  When this happens, employers turn to a basic statistical test (sometimes called a standard-deviation test, a binomial-distribution test, or simply a “z” test), or an even more sophisticated statistical test called a multiple-linear-regression analysis, to examine the importance of different factors involved in hiring, including, most significantly, the chances that the disparity in hiring can be produced by mere chance or happenstance.  In the case of a standard deviation test, a result greater than three standard deviations from the norm means the probability that the result was produced by mere chance is 1% or less.  See id. at 122–32.

The standard-deviation and linear-regression tests are tests of statistical significance.  These tests are more accurate at showing that a test is problematic than is the 80% rule, which is more of a rough guide that has the virtue of being easy to apply.  See id. at 128–32.  In Ricci, the City of New Haven did not analyze the test results using a test of statistical significance.  The City chose to make its decision about the tests solely on the basis of the 80% rule.  See Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2677–78.

[84]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2678.

[85]. Id. at 2666, 2678.  The higher the pass-rate differential, the better the case for a disparate impact claim.

[86]. Id.

[87]. As explained supra note 83, the 80% rule is the crudest of measures of disparate impact.  A better statistical test would be a regression analysis, and it is possible that the crudeness of the measure may have subconsciously played a part in the Court’s decision making.  Scrutinized closely based on the facts of the case, the holding in Ricci is actually, literally, that a prima facie showing of disparate impact based solely on the 80% rule is not a strong enough basis in evidence to set aside tests already taken.

[88]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2677–78, 2681.

[89]. Id. at 2678 (“Based on the degree of adverse impact reflected in the results, respondents were compelled to take a hard look at the examinations to determine whether certifying the results would have had an impermissible disparate impact.  The problem for respondents is that a prima facie case of disparate-impact liability—essentially, a threshold showing of a significant statistical disparity, and nothing more—is far from a strong basis in evidence that the City would have been liable under Title VII had it certified the results.  That is because the City could be liable for disparate-impact discrimination only if the examinations were not job related and consistent with business necessity, or if there existed an equally valid, less-discriminatory alternative that served the City’s needs but that the City refused to adopt.  We conclude there is no strong basis in evidence to establish that the test was deficient in either of these respects.” (emphasis added) (citation omitted)).  Rather than remand the case at this point for further findings, though, the Court itself proceeds to engage in the more detailed analysis.  In so doing, the Court strangely applied mere rationality as the burden for the City to satisfy in these other parts of the disparate impact cause of action.  See id. at 267881; Melissa Hart, Procedural Extremism: The Supreme Court’s 2008–2009 Labor and Employment Cases, 13 Emp. Rts. & Emp. Pol’y J. 253, 262–63 (2009); Norton, supra note 1, at 21828; Sullivan, supra note 3, at 422–25. In the end, and despite the Supreme Court’s analysis, there really is no reason to believe that these tests identified the best supervisors for the firefighting position, a point that may well have been fleshed out more carefully on remand.

[90]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2664–65, 2676.

[91]. Id. at 2673 (citing 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(k)(1)(A) (2006)).

[92]. See Hart, supra note 89, at 263 (“The majority [in Ricci] drew a line between: 1) voluntary compliance efforts that seek to avoid disparate impact in the creation and administration of employment tests; and 2) practices and the evaluation of test scores after the tests have been taken.  The former are not subject to the Court’s new approach.  Only after a test has been taken—when the actual racial make-up of the results is known—will an employer be at risk of disparate treatment liability.”).  Professor Hart cites to Professor Sullivan for this proposition.  Id. at 263 n.58; see Sullivan, supra note 3, at 417 (interpreting the holding of Ricci “to mean that the employer could have adopted its testing . . . to minimize its disparate impact, even though it could not invalidate a test, once it was given, for that reason”); see also Norton, supra note 1, at 237–39 (suggesting that a narrow holding in Ricci that is limited to tests already taken is a distinct possibility).

[93]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2664 (“As a result, the City’s action in discarding the tests was a violation of Title VII.”).

[94]. Id. at 2674; see also Hart, supra note 89, at 263; Norton, supra note 1, at 23539; Sullivan, supra note 3, at 41718.

[95]. See Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2674–76.

[96]. Id. at 2674 (citations omitted).

[97]. Nor do I believe that a citation here to a concurring opinion is simply a case of Justice Kennedy or his clerks inserting just any supporting citation.  If that were the case, why cite to a concurring opinion?  The Croson cite alone would certainly suffice as support.  I believe Justice Kennedy signals here that he agrees with Justice O’Connor’s vision and philosophy of affirmative action, as applied in Part V of the Croson decision certainly, but also as conceived and explained in Justice O’Connor’s concurring opinion in Wygant.

[98]. Ricci, 129 S. Ct. at 2681 (“The injury arises in part from the high, and justified, expectations of the candidates who had participated in the testing process on the terms the City had established for the promotional process.”); see also Sullivan, supra note 3, at 418 (“The majority in Ricci repeatedly referred to the white firefighters’ expectations of, and reliance on, the use of the test as a promotion method, neither of which would exist if the employer’s disparate impact calculations occurred early in the process.”); cf. Richard Primus, The Future of Disparate Impact, 108 Mich. L. Rev. 1341, 1345 (2010) (characterizing the Ricci Court’s narrow and rigid holding on the testing issue as explainable because of the “visible victims” involved).  This is consistent, too, with the Court’s hesitancy in affirmative action cases to allow remedies that deprive others of actual jobs, as in Wygant, in which the Court found that depriving somebody of an existing job based on affirmative action violates least-restrictive-means analysis.  Wygant v. Jackson Bd. of Educ., 476 U.S. 267, 279–80 (1986).  Of course, the deprivation in Ricci was a promotion, not loss of a job, but the Court’s statement about candidates’ reliance interest in the test process shows the Court more willing to put this on the “loss” rather than the “fail to get” side of the ledger. The question, of course, has yet to be decided in an affirmative action context.

[99]. See Norton, supra note 1, at 245–46; Sullivan, supra note 3, at 417–18.

[100]. See supra notes 19–27 and accompanying text.

[101]. See supra notes 8–30 and accompanying text.

[102]. Weber and Johnson were decided in 1979 and 1987, thirty-two and twenty-four years ago, respectively.  In that time, both the Court and its general thinking about affirmative action, revealed in its constitutional decisions, have changed considerably.  While federal courts have consistently applied these precedents in the Title VII context, many have distinguished Weber and Johnson on the basis that in those cases virtually no blacks or women had been hired into target jobs, lessening the requirement of a statistical showing of apparent discrimination to justify affirmative action.  See Cynthia L. Estlund, Putting Grutter to Work: Diversity, Integration, and Affirmative Action in the Workplace, 26 Berkeley J. Emp. & Lab. L. 1, 12 (2005).

[103]. See supra note 29 and accompanying text.

[104]. See Norton, supra note 1, at 246–48.

[105]. In this argument, I part company with Linda L. Arakawa and Michele Park Sonen, and the position they take in Note, Caught in the Backdraft: The Implications of Ricci v. DeStefano on Voluntary Compliance and Title VII, 32 U. Haw. L. Rev. 463 (2010).  They argue that there is apparently no room for use of statistics to engage in voluntary remedial efforts after the introduction of Ricci’s “strong basis in evidence” standard.  Id. at 464–65.  They also argue that the use of statistical tools to ground affirmative action is consistent with past Supreme Court precedent, as authored by Justice O’Connor.  Id. at 481–82.  I agree with them about the latter argument, but not the former.  I believe, as I argue in this Part, that the Ricci Court in dicta upholds and supports those prior constitutional opinions on the scope of employer voluntary remedial efforts.  Arakawa and Park Sonen argue additionally that the “strong basis in evidence” standard should be rejected in favor of a standard that would allow a prima facie case of disparate impact liability using sophisticated statistical measures to ground voluntary efforts or affirmative action.  Id. at 482–83.  While I believe they are on the right track, I argue, instead, that the Court leaves the door open for voluntary efforts based on statistical measurements that establish a prima facie case of systemic discrimination, as explained by Justice O’Connor in her concurring opinion in Wygant.  Arakawa and Park Sonen attempt to reconcile Ricci and their own proposed standard with Weber and Johnson.  I argue that the Court is signaling a shift that would allow voluntary affirmative action, but to a greater degree under the more rigid constitutional standard, squarely inconsistent with the prior analysis established under Weber and Johnson.

[106]. Ricci v. DeStefano, 129 S. Ct. 2658, 2675 (2009) (citations omitted).

[107]. Id. at 2676.

[108]. Id. at 2675–76.

[109]. Id. at 2675.

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