Since reading Barbarians at the Gate in the early 1990s, I have been a huge fan of business histories. Although I have read scores (perhaps hundreds) of business histories, my list of "must reads" is still long. Recently, I decided to read one of the books on that list, The Soul of a New Machine, Tracy Kidder's account of Data General's efforts to build a minicomputer in the 1970s. This book was published in 1981, and it deals with events during my high school years, so it is a great trip down memory lane.
Here is an observation about the founders of Data General early in the book:
Some notion of how shrewd they could be is perhaps revealed in the fact that they never tried to hoard a majority of the stock, but used it instead as a tool for growth. Many young entrepreneurs, confusing ownership with control, can't bring themselves to do this.
Hmm. The distinction between ownership and control is a familiar one in corporate law circles, but this Berle-Means concept is typically applied to large corporations. What does it mean in the startup context?
Chuck O'Kelley examines the connection between entrepreneurship and the Berle-Means corporation in his 2006 article, The Entrepreneur and the Theory of the Modern Corporation, 31 J. Corp. L. 753, but I am curious about viewing this from the other direction. As noted by O'Kelley, the separation of ownership and control is used by Berle and Means to describe firms after the decline of the classical entrepeneur, so it seems somewhat surprising to see Kidder use those terms to describe a startup.
Founders often exert a tremendous influence on a company, even when shares are held by other employees and investors. This control may emanate from their formal positions within the company (CEO, CTO) or perhaps from the respect they are paid from other employees. But I think it is fair to say that ownership matters a great deal in the startup context because it is more concentrated than in the public company context. Thus, to a large extent, ownership is control in a startup.
As Joan Heminway has pointed out, I participated in a discussion group at the SEALS annual conference last week entitled "Does the Public/Private Divide in Securities Regulation Make Sense?" It was an engaging discussion with a lot of interesting ideas and views shared. Part of the discussion focused on the notion of "publicness" as that term was used by Hillary Sale, Don Langevoort and Bob Thompson. That is, a public-driven demand for regulation of public corporations that accounts for more than just managers and their shareholders, but also for a corporation's "societal footprint" and its impact on non-shareholder constituents. As Sale puts it, "the failure of officers and directors to govern in a sufficiently public manner has resulted not only in scandals, but also in more public scrutiny of their decisions, powers and duties." Sale suggests that because the definition of public corporation and the public's view of the corporation has evolved, directors' and officers' understandings of their obligations needs to evolve. I was in Boston this past weeked at the ABA annual meeting, and it struck me that the ongoing back and forth at the grocery chain Market Basket raised some interesting issues surrounding publicness.
Market Basket is a private company with 25,000 employees and 71 stores in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine caught in a battle for control. In June 2014, then president Arthur T. Demoulas and two other executives were ousted by the board, controlled by Arthur T.'s cousin Arthur S. Demoulas. Since that time, the company has been plagued by rallies, strikes, and protest, one attracting crowds of over 5,000, seeking to reinstate Arthur T. According to the Boston Globe, the turmoil apparently has "crippled" the company's operations, resulting in the company losing "millions of dollars a day," "stores with little food," and a "steep decline in business." Apparently, the outpouring of support for Arthur T. stems from his support of employees, which includes not only ensuring that managers and other employees are well-compensated and receive regular bonuses and special benefits, but also his "personal touch"--remembering the names of low-level employees and their sick relatives.
Last Friday, Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick entered the fray, which news outlets found remarkable because until that time the governor had insisted that he would not get involved in what he termed a "private" dispute between a company and its shareholders. But it seems like the public impact of that dispute compelled him to act. The governor wrote a letter to the Market Basket board offering to help resolve the dispute. Although the governor insisted that he would not take sides, the letter noted that the dispute had gotten "out of hand." The letter went on to state, in part: "Your failure to resolve this matter is not only hurting the company's brand and business, but also many innocent and relatively powerless workers whose livelihoods depend on you."
The dispute is still ongoing and involves a lot of important issues both related to employees and the struggle for control of the company, but the dispute and the letter is an interesting commentary on publicness and the idea that even directors of private companies must be aware of the impact of public scrutiny and the manner in which that scrutiny may shape their decisions, powers, and duties.
Two recent developments in the law and practice of business include: (1) the advent of benefit corporations (and kindred organizational forms) and (2) the application of crowdfunding practices to capital-raising for start-ups. My thesis here is that these two innovations will become disruptive legal technologies. In other words, benefit corporations and capital crowdfunding will change the landscape of business organization substantially.
A disruptive technology is one that changes the foundational context of business. Think of the internet and the rise of Amazon, Google, etc. Or consider the invention of laptops and the rise of Microsoft and the fall of the old IBM. Automobiles displace horses, and telephones make the telegraph obsolete. The Harvard economist Joseph Schumpeter coined a phrase for the phenomenon: “creative destruction.”
Technologies can be further divided into two types: physical technologies (e.g., new scientific inventions or mechanical innovations) and social technologies (such as law and accounting). See Business Persons, p. 1 (citing Richard R. Nelson, Technology, Institutions, and Economic Growth (2005), pp. 153–65, 195–209). The legal innovations of benefit corporations and capital crowdfunding count as major changes in social technologies. (Perhaps the biggest legal technological invention remains the corporation itself.)
1. Benefit corporations began as a nonprofit idea, hatched in my hometown of Philadelphia (actually Berwyn, Pennsylvania, but I’ll claim it as close enough). A nonprofit organization called B Lab began to offer an independent brand to business firms (somewhat confusingly not limited to corporations) that agree to adopt a “social purpose” as well as the usual self-seeking goal of profit-making. In addition, a “Certified B Corporation” must meet a transparency requirement of regular reporting on its “social” as well as financial progress. Other similar efforts include the advent of “low-profit” limited liability companies or L3Cs, which attempt to combine nonprofit/social and profit objectives. In my theory of business, I label these kind of firms “hybrid social enterprises.” Business Persons, pp. 206-15.
A significant change occurred in the last few years with the passage of legislation that gave teeth to the benefit corporation idea. Previously, the nonprofit label for a B Corp required a firm to declare adherence to a corporate constituency statute or to adopt a similar constituency by-law or other governing provision which signaled that a firm’s sense of its business objective extended beyond shareholders or other equity-owners alone. (One of my first academic articles addressed the topic at an earlier stage. See “Beyond Shareholders: Interpreting Corporate Constituency Statutes.” I also gave a recent video interview on the topic here.) Beginning in 2010, a number of U.S. states passed formal statutes authorizing benefit corporations. One recent count finds that twenty-seven states have now passed similar statutes. California has allowed for an option of all corporations to “opt in” to a “flexible purpose corporation” statute which combines features of benefit corporations and constituency statutes. Most notably, Delaware – the center of gravity of U.S. incorporations – adopted a benefit corporation statute in the summer of 2013. According to Alicia Plerhoples, fifty-five corporations opted in to the Delaware benefit corporation form within six months. Better known companies that have chosen to operate as benefit corporations include Method Products in Delaware and Patagonia in California.
2. Crowdfunding firms. Crowdfunding along the lines of Kickstarter and Indiegogo campaigns for the creation of new products have become commonplace. And the amounts of capital raised have sometimes been eye-popping. An article in Forbes relates the recent case of a robotics company raising $1.4 million in three weeks for a new project. Nonprofit funding for the microfinance of small business ventures in developing countries seems also to be successful. Kiva is probably the best known example. (Disclosure: my family has been an investor in various Kiva projects, and I’ve been surprised and encouraged by the fact that no loans have so far defaulted!)
However, a truly disruptive change in the capital funding of enterprises – perhaps including hybrid social enterprises – may be signaled by the Jumpstart Our Business Start-ups (JOBS) Act passed in 2012. Although it is limited at the moment in terms of the range of investors that may be tapped for crowdfunding (including a $1 million capital limit and sophisticated/wealthy investors requirement), a successful initial run may result in amendments that may begin to change the face of capital fundraising for firms. Judging from some recent books at least, crowdfunding for new ventures seems to have arrived. See Kevin Lawton and Dan Marom’s The Crowdfunding Revolution (2012) and Gary Spirer’s Crowdfunding: The Next Big Thing (2013).
What if easier capital crowdfunding combined with benefit corporation structures? Is it possible to imagine the construction of new securities markets that would raise capital for benefit corporations -- outside of traditional Wall Street markets where the norm of “shareholder value maximization” rules? There are some reasons for doubt: securities regulations change slowly (with the financial status quo more than willing to lobby against disruptive changes) and hopes for “do-good” business models may run into trouble if consumer markets don’t support them strongly. But it’s at least possible to imagine a different world of business emerging with the energy and commitment of a generation of entrepreneurs who might care about more in their lives than making themselves rich. Benefit corporations fueled by capital crowdfunding might lead a revolution: or, less provocatively, may at least challenge traditional business models that for too long have assumed a narrow economic model of profit-maximizing self-interest. James Surowiecki, in his recent column in The New Yorker, captures a more modest possibility: “The rise of B corps is a reminder that the idea that corporations should be only lean, mean, profit-maximizing machines isn’t dictated by the inherent nature of capitalism, let alone by human nature. As individuals, we try to make our work not just profitable but also meaningful. It may be time for more companies to do the same.”
So a combination of hybrid social enterprises and capital crowdfunding doesn’t need to displace all of the traditional modes of doing business to change the world. If a significant number of entrepreneurs, employees, investors, and customers lock-in to these new social technologies, then they will indeed become “disruptive.”
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Corporate disclosure, especially in securities regulation, has been a standard regulatory strategy since the New Deal. Brandeisian “sunlight” has been endorsed widely as a cure for nefarious inside dealings. An impressive apparatus of regulatory disclosure has emerged, including annual and quarterly reports enshrined in Forms 10K and 10Q. Other less comprehensive disclosures are also required: for initial public offerings and various debt issuances, as well as for unexpected events that require an update of available information in the market (Form 8K).
For the most part, corporate disclosure has focused on financial information: for the good and sufficient reason that it is designed to protect investors – especially investors who are relatively small players in large public trading markets. Some doubts have been raised about the effectiveness of this kind of disclosure and, indeed, the effectiveness of mandatory disclosure in general. A recent book by Omri Ben-Shahar and Carl Scheider, More Than You Wanted to Know: The Failure of Mandated Disclosure, advances a wide-ranging attack on all mandatory disclosure. (I think that their attack goes too far: I’ll be coming out with a short review of the book for Penn Law’s RegBlog called “Defending Disclosure”). Assuming, though, that much financial disclosure makes sense, what about expanding it to include other activities of business firms?
Consider three types of nonfinancial information that might usefully be disclosed: information about a business firm’s activities with respect to politics, the natural environment, and religion.
1. Politics. One good candidate for enhanced corporate disclosure concerns business activities in politics. Lobbying laws require various disclosures, and various campaign finance laws do too. It is possible to obscure actual political spending through the complexity of corporate organization. (For a nice graphic of the Koch brothers’ labyrinth assembled by the Center for Responsive Politics, see here.) Good reporters can ferret out this information – but they need to get access to it in the first place. My colleague Bill Laufer has been an academic leader in an effort to encourage public corporations to disclose political spending voluntarily, with Wharton’s Zicklin Center for Business Ethics Research teaming up with the nonpartisan Center for Political Accountability to rank companies with respect to their transparency about corporate political spending. The rankings have been done for three years now, and there are indications of increased business participation. Recently, even this voluntary effort has been attacked by business groups such as the U.S. Chamber of Commerce for being “anti-business.” See letter from U.S. Chamber of Commerce quoted here. Jonathan Macey of Yale Law School has also objected to the rankings in an article in the Wall Street Journal, arguing that the purpose of political disclosure is somehow part of “a continuing war against corporate America.” These objections, however, seem overblown and misplaced. What is so wrong about asking for disclosure about the political spending of business firms? One can Google individuals to see their record of supporting Presidential and Congressional candidates via the Federal Election Commission’s website, yet large businesses should be exempt? Political spending by corporations and other business should be disclosed in virtue of democratic ideals of transparency in the political process. Media, non-profit groups, political parties, and other citizens may then use the resulting information in political debates and election campaigns. Also, it seems reasonable for shareholders to expect to have access to this kind of information.
In Business Persons, I’ve gone further to argue (in chapter 7) that both majority and dissenting opinions in Citizens United appear to support mandatory disclosure as a good compromise strategy for regulation. One can still debate the merits of closer control of corporate spending in politics (and I believe that though business corporations indeed have “rights” to political speech these rights do not necessarily extend to unlimited spending directed toward political campaigns). It seems to me hard to dispute that principles of political democracy – and the transparency of the process – support a law of mandatory disclosure of corporate spending in politics.
2. Natural environment. Increasingly, many large companies are also issuing voluntary reports regarding their environmental performance (and often adding in other “social impact” elements). Annual reports issued under the International Standards Organization (the ISO 14000 series), the Global Reporting Initiative, and the Carbon Disclosure Project are examples. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has also established a mandatory program for greenhouse gas emissions reporting, which is tailored to different industrial sectors. One can argue about whether these kinds of disclosures are sufficiently useful to justify their expense, but my own view is that they help to encourage business firms to take environmental concerns seriously. Many firms use this reporting to enhance their internal efficiency (often leading to financial bottom-line gains). As important, however, is the engagement of firms to consider environmental issues – and encouraging them to act as “part of the solution” rather than simply as a generating part of the problem.
One caveat that is relevant to all nonfinancial disclosure regimes: The scope of firms required to disclose should be considered. I do not believe that the case is convincing that only public reporting companies under the securities laws should be included. (For one influential argument to the contrary, see Cynthia A. Williams, “The Securities and Exchange Commission and Corporate Social Transparency,” 112 Harvard Law Review 1197 (1999)). Instead, it makes to sense for different agencies appropriate to the particular issue at hand to regulate: the Federal Election Commission for political disclosures and the EPA for environmental disclosures.
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Thanks to Gordon Smith and my Wharton colleague David Zaring for inviting me as a guest blogger on The Conglomerate. I am a new entrant in the blogosphere here, and I appreciate this invitation very much.
What follows is a written version of remarks that I presented at the Society for Business Ethics in Philadelphia on August 3 at a panel on “Corporate Personhood – For or Against or Whether It Even Matters?” organized by Kendy Hess of Holy Cross. (Thanks, Kendy!) The panel also included excellent presentations on the topic by two of my Wharton colleagues, Gwen Gordon and Amy Sepinwall, as well as Kendy. A longer version will be presented in a conference in London in September, and a written version will also be included in a book that I'm co-editing with Craig Smith called The Moral Responsibility of Firms (forthcoming in Oxford University Press). It will also inform chapter 1 of a book that is underway (and still forthcoming) currently called Rethinking the Firm: An Interdisciplinary Interpretation (also under contract with OUP).
In these posts, I've been kindly invited to revisit some themes of my new book on Business Persons: A Legal Theory of the Firm. So I hope that I'll generate some interest in the book: or perhaps make some of the ideas there more accessible in "blog-sized" pieces. The following contribution is a first entry.
Let me be provocative first and say affirmatively: Corporations are legal persons and it matters. The thesis is qualified, however, by the fact that to say that corporations are persons is a conclusion that only then begins arguments about what it actually means in practice with respect to particular issues. The fact that corporations are “persons” means only that we provide them – through law – with certain capacities and powers, and certain rights and obligations. It remains to be decided what the nature and limits of these capacities and powers, and rights and obligations, may and will be.
Three main arguments support my claim.
1. Firms exist. Some economists (and lawyers following them) have argued that firms do not really exist. They are mere fictions, they say, and any serious epistemological analysis must look past the “legal fiction” of the firm – or the “corporation” in the form we are discussing here – to the actual human beings who are involved. Although this methodological reduction may be useful for some kinds of analysis (economic modeling, etc.), it is wrong from a realistic legal and social perspective. Firms exist because the law has evolved to say that they exist. They are constructions of human relationships that are socially sanctioned and legally recognized. They are “fictions” in the sense that they are created through the artificial mechanisms of law and government. They are also “real” because people acting under law and in society believe in them and make them real. Firms are therefore what I’ve called “real fictions”: both nominalism and realism are right, but only when they are combined together into a nominalist realism. See Business Persons, ch. 1. Philosophers such as Margaret Gilbert, John Searle, and Philip Pettit support this view. People acting in social groups form collective realities, which are reinforced and articulated by organizational law. Business firms – including for-profit corporations – are in this sense social constructions. Corporations are like money and nation-states. Exxon-Mobil and Patagonia are as real as China and the United States. They exist because we believe in them. We act as if they exist – and so as social constructions they exist. They have power and authority.
2. Firms are persons. The method of legal recognition is to bestow “personality”: The law recognizes an individual human being as a “person” who has “standing” to bring or defend a claim in court. A person has rights: personal rights against mistreatment and rights against violations of one’s dignity and physical integrity. The law matters here. Consider the situation of a slave (historically not so very long ago in the United States) or an illegal immigrant (such as children from other countries crossing the southern border of the United States today). The law does not recognize them fully as “persons” – or at least not to the same level of available rights and obligations as “citizens.” Even children of citizens do not have a complete set of rights: they cannot drive cars or enter contracts legally until reaching an age allowing legal capacity. The law makes other distinctions: “person” is a legally denominated concept. It is extended (or not) for various reasons of philosophy and social policy. Is a fetus a “person”? What rights does a “terrorist” have? Even: is a dog, such as my dog Butterbean, a legal person for certain purposes? I cannot, for example, torture him for fun (assuming that I’m that kind of person, which I’m not). In this sense, then, a dog too is a person: he has some minimal rights recognized under law (though he'll need someone else to speak for him).
An analogous argument applies to firms. They are “persons” because the law recognizes them as such and as having certain rights and obligations: standing in court, holding of property, a party to contracts, an organizational principal, a target for tort liability, and a potential plaintiff to insist on its “rights,” whatever they may be. The exact nature of these various rights of firms remains to be decided: The controversial recent cases of Citizens United and Hobby Lobby extend claims of political and religious freedom to include corporations as persons. Are these cases correctly decided? The answer does not, I believe, turn on whether they are considered “persons” or not. Firms are uncontroversially legal persons for many purposes. The question is whether or not we should extend certain kind of rights to firms as “persons” derivatively – representing the people who act collectively through them. Note that the answer can be qualified. We may say: “Yes, corporations hold property and should have standing to object on constitutional grounds if a government attempts to expropriate the property without compensation.” But we may also say: “No, corporations usually represent diverse groups of people regarding religion, so in these cases it is not correct to say that corporations should have religious rights" (contrary, of course, to the holding of Hobby Lobby). I make this latter argument in a previous blog for The Conglomerate on Hobby Lobby here.
3. Legal personality matters, but it is not dispositive. Firms exist, firms have legal personality, and it matters. The fact that a corporation is a person does not settle the argument for or against an assertion of rights or obligations. This is a mistake in argumentation, in my view, that opinions on both sides of the divided Justices of the Citizens United and Hobby Lobby cases make. In these kinds of cases, the Court should ask – as legislatures and citizens should as well – what is the purpose of a firm and of a corporation given the question that we're asking? Arguably, as Justice Alito argues in Hobby Lobby, business firms are not just profit maximizers (as some students are taught in some business school classes). They are moral creatures because the people who compose them are moral creatures (or, at least they have the potential to be moral -- nobody's perfect!) But we then have to dig deeper and ask “who” is involved in the firm. Why are we asking the question: “persons” for what purposes? Perhaps firms should have political rights, but perhaps also they should be constrained in this respect for good reasons of political theory and modern democracy. Perhaps some kinds of firms should have religious rights, but the scope of these potential rights should be constrained. Rights of employees may be equal to those of owners and managers in this context. There are other limits in principle that need to be drawn here too: but my main point here is that doing so assumes that “legal personality” matters. It is then a question of filling in the institutional portrait: who is this person? What kind of person? And how does the nature of this person relate to the considerations in play on a specific issue?
4. Conclusion. My argument is designed mostly to set up rather than to answer the hard questions, so I hope that my position will not be too controversial. Here again are my main propositions.
a. Firms exist. For our purposes here, corporations are a kind of firm. (The difference between for-profit and profit corporations raises another set of issues.)
b. Firms, including corporations, have legal personality. The question is not whether firms are persons, but what the fact that they are persons means with respect to particular further questions regarding the rights or obligations that we should extend to them as persons.
c. Legal personality matters, but is not dispositive. To argue about whether firms are persons or not persons does not advance the ball very much. The popular debate conflates the meanings of "persons" and "people." Firms are persons; begin there. And then engage the substantive policy issues as hand. Move the discussion forward, while recognizing the truth of the “real fictions” of firms as legal persons.
The Religious Freedom Restoration Act applies only to "persons." Invoking this limitation, the Obama Administration claims that for-profit corporations such as Hobby Lobby are not RFRA persons, thus negating Hobby Lobby’s challenge to the Administration’s contraception mandate. In particular, the Administration claims that treating corporations as RFRA persons capable of exercising religion contravenes "fundamental tenets" of American corporate law.
In a brief amicus curiae, 44 professors of corporate and criminal law have elaborated on this argument. These scholars contend that treating corporations as RFRA persons that exercise their shareholders' religion violates basic principles of corporate law and would undermine that law's goals. The scholars’ brief emphasizes that corporations are separate legal entities protected from intrusion by shareholders, who enjoy limited liability behind the corporate veil. These essential attributes of corporateness, these scholars say, categorically preclude shareholders’ religion from “passing through” a boundary between shareholders and the firm and thus prevent shareholders from "impos[ing] their personal religious beliefs" on the firm. Allowing such imposition, the scholars say, would encourage intra-corporate struggles over religious identity, struggles that would sometimes result in litigation and discourage investment.
In a recent essay, Nate Oman and I argue that the Obama Administration and the scholars who support it are mistaken on this point and that for-profit corporations are in fact RFRA persons. Corporations often adopt policies that reflect shareholders’ religious beliefs. Examples include Jewish-owned restaurants or groceries that keep Kosher and remain closed on the Jewish sabbath, Christian-owned establishments that decline to sell alcohol and/or close on Sunday, and Muslim-owned firms that refuse to enter contracts that require the payment of interest. These practices do not offend corporate law, and the scholars cite no case to the contrary.
None of this is a surprise. Americans are the most religious people in the developed world. Moreover, the now-prevalent theory teaches that firms are nexuses of contracts among suppliers of various inputs. Modern corporate law reflects this contractual vision, allowing investors to alter default rules so as to facilitate the exercise of religion under the aegis of the corporate form. While the “standard” corporation entails separation of ownership from control of the sort found in large, publicly traded firms, the vast majority of corporations are closely held entities like Hobby Lobby, firms that courts and scholars have dubbed “chartered partnerships,” “incorporated partnerships,” or “corporations de jure and partnerships de facto.”
Several facets of modern corporate law empower shareholders to impose their religious beliefs on such corporations. Shareholders can adopt provisions in the corporate charter or the firm’s bylaws that limit what products firms may sell, days firms will operate, and how firms treat employees, customers, or the wider community. None of these provisions would contravene corporate law, which allows firms to pursue “any lawful businesses or purposes.” Shareholders can also enter shareholder agreements that govern operation of the firm or require unanimous consent before the firm takes certain actions. Indeed, shareholders can eliminate the Board of Directors altogether and operate the firm as a de facto partnership. Delaware law, for instance, expressly provides that shareholders may “treat the corporation as if it were a partnership or [ ] arrange relations among the stockholders or between the stockholders and the corporation in a manner that would be appropriate only among partners.” Shareholders may properly rely upon these devices (and perhaps others) to induce corporations to pursue religious objectives, even to the detriment of profits.
To be sure, shareholders of such “chartered partnerships” would retain limited liability (unless waived in the corporate charter) as well as entity status. But non-profit corporations, including churches, synagogues and mosques, and their members possess these very same attributes without forfeiting their ability to exercise religion. States confer limited liability on shareholders of for-profit corporations to encourage investment, risk taking and the like. Moreover, entity status reduces transaction costs that would result from individual shareholder transacting. Nothing about the rationales for these institutional devices justifies limiting the ability of shareholders to induce firms to pursue religious objectives.
Perhaps, however, pursuit of religion by for-profit corporations is inconsistent with the goals of corporate law, thereby suggesting that Congress did not extended RFRA to such entities. For example, the law professors’ brief suggests that allowing RFRA exemptions will lead to costly derivative suits over whether a corporation ought to adopt a particular religion and that firms will manufacture spurious religious claims to avoid onerous regulations.
We doubt it. Under current law a for-profit corporation may pursue a religious mission. It’s unclear why the predicted corporate-governance litigation over religion hasn’t already happened. It’s telling that the critics have been unable to cite a single derivative action or corporate governance dispute related to religion. In theory, it is possible that firms might manufacture insincere religious claims. This, however, has nothing to do with the corporate form. Natural persons also have incentives to manufacture religious claims. In applying RFRA, courts properly inquire into the sincerity of religious beliefs, booting spurious claims.
Finally, one might object that it simply makes no sense to give free-exercise rights (even statutory ones) to corporations. After all, a corporation has no soul, and religion is something that only natural persons can practice. We disagree. First, churches and other religious entities are corporations and no one has ever claimed that this fact disables them from practicing religion or meriting protection. Furthermore, these claims are not confined to uniquely “religious” corporations. Many churches, for example, are organized as LLCs. As a legal matter, they have the same form as Chrysler. The validity of RFRA claims should not turn on a claimant’s corporate status or lack thereof.
Perhaps the real problem is the for-profit character of firms like Hobby Lobby. Natural persons, however, also pursue profits. It would be very odd to say that a sole proprietorship or a partnership may claim the protections of RFRA but a corporation or an LLC may not. At a deeper level, it would be perverse to suggest that once a person is engaged in profit making activity they have given up their right to practice their religion. Such a principle would gut the idea of religious freedom.
Implicit in these arguments against RFRA personhood for corporations are two problematic assumptions. The first is that religion is fundamentally an individual and private affair, rather than a collective and public affair. This is a good description of a seventeenth-century Calvinist examining his or her soul for the signs of irresistible grace. This account does not work very well for many other approaches to religion. Jewish law, for example, denies that there is a distinction between the “private” and “religious” activity of the home and the “public” and “secular” activity of the marketplace. God’s demand that Israel live according to his law applies equally in both realms. Likewise, Catholic theology has a rich tradition of understanding corporate religious experience within a host of subsidiary organizations, including for-profit firms.
None of this means that the RFRA claims of for-profit corporation should always succeed. Courts should scrutinize all RFRA claims for sincerity, substantial burden, and whether any substantial burden is narrowly tailored to further a compelling interest. There is, however, no good reason for categorically excluding for-profit corporations from RFRA’s protection for religious freedom.
A lot of ink has been written over the benefits (and costs) of outside directors -- SOX in particular seems to value independence and immunity, however theoretical, to "groupthink" and "going along to get along." But outside directors do not know the business, and possibly the industry, as well as an inside director. What a conundrum! One answer: a computer program.
Business Insider reports that a Hong Kong VC firm has named VITAL, a computer algorithm, as its sixth director. Lots of interesting points here. The VC firm has a board that makes a lot of investment decisions, and VITAL is programmed to pore over tons of data and make these kinds of decisions. This does not seem to be the kind of computer algorithm that can make decisions more big-picture decisions like whether to be acquired, whether to issue more shares, whether to fire officers, whether to expand capacity, whether to issue bonds, etc. Now, VITAL may be capable of making these decisions, but the write-up seems to suggest that VITAL is more of an investment algorithm that any investor might use, such as a VC firm.
But of course the fascinating question is whether a computer program would make a good independent director at any sort of operating company. Moreover, would the installation of such a director be allowed under Delaware law? Delaware courts seem pretty persnickety about boards doing things that tie their or future directors' hands ('no hands" poison pills, acquisition agreements with no-shops, heavy termination fees, etc.) and about shareholders amending the bylaws to take away directors' decisions in areas in which they have discretion. An algorithm doesn't seem to have any discretion, so pre-programming a director to vote in a certain way, even if that programming is complex, seems to deny that director discretion.
Things to ponder as we enter into a brave new world. . . .
PrawfsBlawg is hosting a great "book club" focusing on Christopher Bruner's excellent book, "Corporate Governance in the Common-Law World." Lots of posts, if you are looking for a productive way to spend the afternoon.
We enjoyed a great lineup of speakers and cutting edge scholarship here in Boulder this past semester as part of CU’s Business Law Colloquium. The following papers make for excellent start-of-the-summer reading:
Dan Katz (Michigan State): Quantitative Legal Prediction – or – How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Start Preparing for the Data Driven Future of the Legal Services Industry: a provocative look at Big Data will help clients analyze everything from whether to bring or settle a lawsuit to how to hire legal counsel. Katz examines implications for legal education.
Rob Jackson (Columbia): Toward a Constitutional Review of the Poison Pill (with Lucian Bebchuk): Jackson and Bebchuk kicked a hornet’s nest with their argument that some state antitakeover statutes (and, by extension, poison pills under those statutes) may be preempted by the Williams Act. See here for the rapid fire response from Martin Lipton.
Brad Bernthal (Colorado): What the Advocate’s Playbook Reveals About FCC Institutional Tendencies in an Innovation Age: my co-teacher interviewed telecom lawyers to map out both their strategies for influencing the Federal Communications Commission and what these strategies mean for stifling innovation in that agency.
Kate Judge (Columbia): Intermediary Influence: Judge examines the mechanisms by which intermediaries – both financial and otherwise – engage in rent-seeking rather than lowering transaction costs for market participants. The paper helps explain everything from Tesla’s ongoing fight with the Great State of New Jersey to sell cars without relying on dealers to entrenchment by large financial conglomerates.
Lynn Stout (Cornell): Killing Conscience: The Unintended Behavioral Consequences of 'Pay For Performance': Stout argues that pay for performance compensation in companies undermines ethical behavior by framing choices in terms of monetary reward. This adds to the growing literature on compliance which ranges from Tom Tyler’s germinal work to Tung & Henderson, who argue for adapting pay for performance for regulators.
Steven Schwarcz (Duke): The Governance Structure of Shadow Banking: Rethinking Assumptions About Limited Liability: Schwarcz argues for imposing additional liability on the “owner-managers” of some shadow banking entities to dampen the moral hazard and excessive risk taking by these entities, which contributed to the financial crisis. This paper joins a chorus of other papers arguing to using shareholder or director & officer liability mechanisms to fight systemic risk. (See Hill & Painter; Admati, Conti-Brown, & Pfleiderer; and Armour & Gordon).
[I’ll inject myself editorially on this one paper: this is a provocative idea, but one that would make debt even cheaper relative to equity than it already is. This would encourage firms to ratchet up already high levels of leverage. I looked at the expansion of limited liability in Britain in the 18th Century in Chapter 2 of my book. The good news for Schwarcz’s proposal from this history: expansions of limited liability seem to have coincided and contributed to the booms in the cycle of financial crises in that country that occurred every 10 years in that country. The bad news: unlimited liability for shareholders does not seem to have staved off crises and likely contributed to the contagion in the Panic of 1825.]
The CU Business Law Colloquium also heard from Gordon Smith (BYU), Jim Cox (Duke), Sharon Matusik (Colorado – Business), Afra Afsharipour (UC Davis), Jesse Fried (Harvard), and Brian Broughman (Indiana). Their papers are not yet up on ssrn.
I really enjoyed this conference! One of the best parts about it was that it threw together people who think quite differently about corporate law. One of the great things about Steve Bainbridge is his openness to critics and his genuine desire to engage in a conversation with opposing viewpoints. Most people just want to hear that they're right. Steve doesn't, and that's a rare thing in this business.
As is often the case, as the panels unfolded a thought kept percolating in my mind and never made it to a question. Luckily, I'm a blogger, so I can keep talking!
In the first panel proponents of the director primacy, shareholder primacy, and team production model made their case. The next panel critiqued them, and yours truly was tasked with Steve Bainbridge's director primacy. One concern I voiced about both team production and director primacy it that they don't map on to closely held corporations particularly well. Both Blair & Stout and Bainbridge generally concede this point, focusing on public corporations.
But whenever Steve starts his director primacy riff, he says that he set out to explain the Delaware code as it is. And the Delaware code, as I remind my BA students when we move to the close corporation setting, doesn't consist of a "public corporation" law and a "private corporation" law. It's just corporate law--with the weird and relatively seldom used statutory close corporation provisions thrown in. So if you start with the code you have to deal with that basic point--it's the same code for private and public corporations--shouldn't your explanatory theory explain both?
The next panel talked about implications for corporate purpose, and we got to talk hot-button Supreme Court cases. Margaret Blair said something I'd been thinking for a while. Part of what bollixes up the Court is this same one-size-fits-all corporate form. Hobby Lobby is a big corporation, but it's a private corporation. The Justices talk about a little kosher or halal slaughterhouse which we all know is different from a large publicly traded corporation. Yet it's the same form and the same law. Why? I suggest to my students that it's because states, most pointedly Delaware, find more value in a large bank of corporate law precedents than in having categories of corporations to which different laws apply. That is, if Delaware is marketing its rich corporate case law as part of its competition for corporate charters, it's not going to want to divide up its precedents into close corporation law versus public corporation law. Divide and suffer, precedentially speaking. But this "one law" approach causes problems because we know, intuitively and as a matter of reality, that public and private corporations are different.
Citizens United is even more problematic, because there you do have a different code, and actually a different organizational form--the nonprofit. As I wrote in Entity and Identity, form matters. A nonprofit corporation is quite different from a for-profit one, and according a non-profit certain speech rights doesn't necessitate the same for a for-profit.
These nuances get elided, though, if you lump everything together as a "corporation." And, of course, the corporate codes--Delaware and the Model Act--are guilty of that on the public/close corp front, if not on the for/nonprofit one.
"Let's get together and feel all right" is a great plan for a conference (thanks again, Steve!), but does it work as well for corporate law?
The Supreme Court's ruling in the Hobby Lobby/Conestoga Wood Specialties cases could have a profound impact on the perennial, but critically important, debate about corporate purpose in a democratic society. This is a matter my colleague David Millon and I are now addressing in an article, but here I offer a few thoughts.
The two corporations in these cases expressly have purposes that are religious even as they also seek, quite successfully, to make profits. As noted in my Monday post, the PA corporate statute is remarkable in its breadth of permitted purposes. But as Millon and I have argued since the mid-1980s--along with other long-timers like Professors Stout, Greenfield, Bratton, Dallas, O'Connor, Mitchell, and younger scholars like Professors Bruner and Bodie and others--corporate profit or shareholder wealth maximization is not legally mandated under any state law, with a few(ultimately minor) caveats for Delaware.
If the Supreme Court holds that these two corporations have a free exercise right qua corporations--whatever the ultimate outcome on the merits--hasn't the Court "blessed"(I couldn't resist) their non-profit maximizing purpose? Granted, the Court was not asked per se to rule on whether these two corporations could do what they are doing as a matter of the state law of corporate purpose. [ I think they clearly can, however, and that is why I completely disagree with Mark Underberg's March 4 posting on the Harvard site that raises fiduciary duty concerns that are nonexistent given the corporation's broad purpose]. But that certainly is implicit in the Government's whole case: these are money-making profit-maximizers, not "religious." I think a pro-company ruling on the standing issue will, effectively, vindicate the non-maximizing corporate purpose position many of us have long advocated.
Once a diversity of corporate purposes is seen to be legally permitted--again, I believe this already is the case--then corprate founders and directors can select a particular array of purposes to pursue. Some will choose to advance enlightened or benign environmental or other socially responsible goals, along with profits. Others will seek to couple profit making with generous employment practices or charitable endeavors.[Hobby Lobby, by the way, gives one-third of its profits to charitable and religious causes]. And others yet will bring religious convictions into their thinking about business goals. This means at least two things.
First, freed of a (real or imagined) mandated shareholder primacy or profit primacy obligation, corporations in a democracy will pursue an array of different goals. What is wrong with pluralism? Would some seek to replace the supposed stricture of profit or shareholder primacy with a newly-enshrined narrow set of "correct" corporate purposes? Those of us seeking to end wrong thinking on corporate purpose should not, ironically, fight against it because some don't like a particular purpose, i.e., one shaped by religious belief. As a related example, think here of free speech as a matter of principle, however repugnant the words used by some, yet we support free speech for all. Our ideological commitments should not impede our impartial scholarship.
Second, some(I think most) reform on the corporate purpose front will come through norm shifting and volunteerism, not government mandate. I suspect many progressive corporate law scholars favored the Government position because of a well-intentioned desire to help employees, a central plank in many corporate reform agendas. But ironically, I believe, that position actually hobbles the freedom of corporations, through their boards of directors, to combine profit making with one or more other properly chosen goals, be they religious or environmental or otherwise. Sure, some corporate reformers favor government mandates, in corporate law as in healthcare. But many, like me, prefer the long(frustrating) slog of reform from within, and this for one primary reason from which I have not wavered in 30 years.
That reason is that I simply do not believe that shareholder wealth maximization or profit maximization is conguent with widely shared social norms. Profit making certainly is, profit pursuit is, and private enterprise is; but not the belief that the singular goal of such activity is pursuit of some maximand for a single constituency. I simply do not believe that the vast majority of Americans(or other global citizens) believe that their individual role in American working life is to maximize profits--how spiritually deadening and depressing is the thought. Nor do I think most Americans believe that the great institutions in our collective life--including the business corporation--should have as their very institutional raison d'etre the maximizing of a share price or other narrow commitment. Some institutional pursuit of the common good(narrowly or widely conceived) sustains most healthy institutions. I think the founders and directors of Hobby Lobby and Conestoga Wood Specialties, whether you agree with them or not, are resisting just this shrunken vision of life in the American business world today. A win for them will vindicate a larger quest that many of us favor, though by different paths and for different ends.
There are many cross currents in corporate law today besides that pushed so hard by law and econ folks for so long. These have the potential through our young scholarly colleagues to reopen our field to new breakthroughs that can move corporate law into a more central role in our collective life and make it, frankly, more important. One of the ironies of my own thinking on these larger issues in corporate law is that I disagree in these two cases with so many people with whom I typically agree about corporate purpose in other contexts. And that while I agree with my good friend Stephen Bainbridge on these two cases, I disagree with him on corporate purpose. Who said con law has all the fun and that corporate law had to be dull...
I briefly highllight a few pertinent corporate law-specific points that were made during yesterday's argument. Much of the proceeding, of course, was focused on burdens and compelling interest and alternatives, including the posing of many hypotheticals. And I too was as struck as Rick at the large number of interruptions. I resolve to be a more polite listener.
The Solicitor General conceded, in response to a question by Justice Alito, that the corporate form per se was not inconsistent with a free exercise claim; instead, it was the pursuit of for profit activity. It strikes me that this move, designed to preserve the current government stance against these two closely held corporations, potentially would permit a future attack by the government against an individual's free exercise claim. At a time when the government would seemingly want to cabin off the for profit corporate sector as unable to make a free exercise claim, that seemed an odd move.
In a classic half empty/half full exchange with Justice Scalia, the SG conceded that there was not a single case holding that a for profit corporation does not have a free exercise claim.
Again, in an exchange with Justice Scalia, the SG ruminated over the position of a minority shareholder in a close corporation who disagrees with the controlling shareholders about policy. Scalia curtly replied that those in control of the company make the decisions. To the SG's suggestion that that might be oppression, CJ Roberts replied that that was a state corporate law question. Three cheers for some answers our 2L law students could have made about corporate governance. Maybe we corporate types don't know con law but we have our own arguments they could brush up on, a point I made in my opening post on Monday.
Finally, even late in the SG's argument, Justice Breyer pressed him yet again on why corporate form should matter to a free exercise claim. The SG moved to the employees' interests and how they needed to be considered.
Who can predict such things, but my impression is as stated Monday: this case will, however narrowly, conclude that these two companies have a free exercise claim. Whatever the outcome of the case(given the other steps in the RFRA analysis), that initial ruling will, as I will post tomorrow, have intriguing consequences for corporate law, not just con law.
I look forward to reading the transcript of today's arguments. In the meantime, a comment on Marty's post.
I am glad that he has concluded the same thing as me, i.e., that of the burdens on natural persons here, it is on those persons as directors; see the reasons I stated yesterday. But I disagree with him that a corporation cannot have a religious obligation.
Imagine an incorporated church. Of course that organization, as an organization, has obligations of a religious nature, whether that be calling a minister, providing worship services, conducting communion, prayer meetings, and so on. There is no corporate law reason, as explained yesterday, that a for profit corporations cannot pursue profits and do some of those ecclesiastical activities. Indeed, I believe Hobby Lobby employs three chaplains. Moreover, in the Christian tradition, much of the directives are not just to individual believers but to the Body of Christ, which is the church, a group of people. And the word "corporation" derives from the root word for "body." People carry out religious activity in groups, that is, "corporately," and the law provides a ready-made vehicle for doing so, the "corporation."
But even if one accepts arguendo that the company qua company has no religious obligations, the natural person directors on the boards of these two companies certainly do. And they owe fiduciary duties to the serve the company's interests. If, because the company here is assumed to have no religious obligation, and therefore must comply with the Affordable Care Act in toto, and if, as fiduciaries, the board members must serve those interests even as they themselves, personally, have religious obligations that forbid them from doing so, then those natural persons are being forced to choose between violating their duties or violating their beliefs and obligations. I understand this to supply the scenario that Marty thought was absent.
Better in my view, to see that, for the reasons explained yesterday and above, a for-profit business corporation can be(it need not be but it can be) a mixed purpose entity advancing profits and one or more other purposes, maybe religious but maybe another social or environmental purpose, as Ron notes. And those walking, breathing people who serve as directors, in "exercising" their individual beliefs and their governance duties to the corporation, can simultaneously draw on and seek to advance individual and "corporate" obligations.
And to the nexus of contracts point, it is well taken as a theory matter. I think, however, in the world of legal doctrine the distinct legal personhood of the corporation is entrenched, subject to piercing, and this is where the 44 professors and Steve join issue. But as noted yesterday, such separateness is no impediment to the business founders here. This is because it is in their capacity as directors that these natural persons must, by corporate statute, "exercise" corporate responsibilites, and they seek to do so in this litigation by vindicating their "free exercise" religious right as individuals discharging this corporate function.
I thank Gordon and my other friends here for inviting me to write about Hobby Lobby/Conestoga Wood. I will not address the "substantial burden" or "compelling interest" aspects of the analysis, which I think will turn out to be decisive precisely because I believe the Court will recognize the two companies as having a free exercise right. In a later post I will address what I think are the intriguing possibilities of such a ruling for those of us who seek corporate reform(me from the right and many from the left) and will argue that those who want real reform are backing the wrong pony if they side with the government in these two cases. But first to some straight corporate law points.
I think certain corporate statutory points have not been clearly made, or if they have been made, I missed them. I think the chief brief by Conestoga Wood does the best job but it still falls a bit short. Understanding these might obviate the extensive emphasis on the corporate separateness argument made by the 44 law professors and Stephen Bainbridge's reverse piercing rejoinder. What are these?
First, there is nothing in RFRA to suggest that Congress meant to displace or preempt state corporate law, here that of Oklahoma and Pennsylvania. Numerous Supreme Court cases recognize that states endow corporations with the attributes they possess. Thus, not only does the federal Dictionary Act define a "person" to include a corporation, there is nothing to indicate a federal override of state law's role in defining corporateness. Using the Pennsylvania statute and Conestoga Wood as my example, what does that corporate statute say? First, like section 3.02 of the Model Business Corporation Act, the PA statute section 1501 states that a corporation shall have the same legal capacity of individuals to act But how does a corporation act? Through its board of directors, all the members of which must be natural persons. Thus PA section 1721, like section 8.01 of the Model Act, states that all CORPORATE powers shall be "exercised by" the board of directors(please note that the term "exercised" here is the same term as in the First Amendment "free exercise" clause). When the board acts, it is not an act of the board for itself, it is an act of the corporation. Moreover, as the board acts, its natural person members can indeed do what the Third circuit wrongly said a corporation cannot do: they can worship and pray and otherwise "exercise"(in the corporate and First Amendment senses) rights in their board meeting, and they do so in their "corporate" capacity. And it is the board itself that is the key decisionmaker, not employees or others in corporate governance. The two boards here have made the key decisions. Second, PA section 102 is very interesting. It says that "a"(not "the") purpose of a corporation can be to "purse"(not "maximize") profit, and that profit may be an "incidental" (not sole) purpose of a for-profit corporation. Thus, for-profit corporations in Pennsylvania, by statute, can have multi-purposes, only one of which need be to pursue profits. That further blurs the line between so-called "non-profit" corporations(a misnomer anyway because many make profits they just can't distribute them; since the government concedes on non-profits does the First Amendment really turn on whether dividends can be paid?) and for-profit corporations, the latter of which can be hybrid purpose companies. Here, the two companies pretty clearly seek to make money and also to carry out a board-fashioned CORPORATE religious mission.
Thus, it is via the usual channels of corporate governance that individuals play a key role in corporations acting. It need not be as owners. I honor corporate separateness but think corporate powers are and must be, as here, "exercised" by board members in pursuit of a well-articulated, and utterly lawful under state law, corporate purpose that has a religious dimension. This all could have been made clearer before tomorrow's arguments.
Blue River applies expertise in robotics to develop new agricultural technologies. Recognizing that $25 billion is spent annually on herbicides that pose environmental risks, the company offers farmers the option to reduce their chemical usage by switching to robots pulled behind tractors that can quickly identify and kill weeds with a rotating blade.
Greyston sells brownies (including some found in Ben & Jerry’s ice cream), but it also adheres to a strict workforce development program. The company staffs its operations with hard-to-employ individuals and teaches them skills that they can use when looking for jobs across the wider foodservices industry. As Greyston’s slogan says, “We don’t hire people to bake brownies, we bake brownies to hire people.”
Greyston is organized as a benefit corporation; Blue River is not. That probably makes sense.
Blue River approaches what some call “the hybrid ideal” – a situation where everything a company does generates social value and revenue. The company’s social objectives are market driven. There is little tension between profits and impact. Mission drift is relatively easy to monitor. I wouldn’t think Blue River has much to gain by becoming a benefit corporation. Indeed, it seems to be doing just fine.
Greyston is different. It can’t align profits with public good quite as neatly. Its social mission is broader and open to greater interpretation. What does it mean for someone to be “hard-to-employ?” How should we measure something as fuzzy as workforce development? Even if we say that Greyston is near the hybrid ideal, can we be sure it won’t move toward greater pursuit of profits at the expense of public benefit? This might follow from something as simple as a change in ownership or leadership, and it could be hard to detect. Blue River’s products strike me as easily observable, but if Greyston makes discrete changes to its hiring policies, those decisions seem easier to keep under wraps.
The provisions found in benefit corporation statutes do not fully resolve these issues. However, I’m not ready to say that benefit corporation statutes are a mistake, or that becoming a benefit corporation is only about greenwashing. Instead, I argue that the benefit corporation’s best opportunity for influence is to be seen as a new institutional structure—one that can motivate the development of self-regulatory standards and provide a normative framework for social entrepreneurs and pro-social investors. This framework, in turn, can be particularly helpful to companies like Greyston that pursue more complex social missions.
First, the benefit corporation form offers a rallying or focal point that ought to make it easier for like-minded private actors to come together and collaborate on issues ranging from corporate governance practices to the development of social impact metrics. Seeing benefit corporation laws as focal in this way does not mean they will dictate particular standards. Rather, they simply incentivize firms and stakeholders to participate in a self-regulatory process by providing an archetype and hub that can facilitate communication and standards development. The form’s mandate to consider multiple interests should make such cooperation more palatable. Firms that prioritize profits above other objectives often lack the incentive to share information with their competitors. In that case, first-movers will see their profits slip if information sharing allows others to easily replicate their strategies. However, by definition, the benefit corporation form means that profits are not the overriding focus. It thus creates more room for cooperation and coordination—and as Haskell Murray reports, this already appears to be happening.
Additionally, a key step in addressing issues like mission drift is to recognize that, just as they send broader signals about values to the market, legal forms also influence corporate behavior. The people within an organization are the most significant determinants of its commitment to mission. With respect to the benefit corporation, forms that reflect a specific ideological commitment can influence internal culture by signaling the values that should inform employee decision-making. Patagonia cited this belief as a motivating factor in its decision to become a benefit corporation.
Finally, establishing a culture that leads to the internalization of values is easier when organizational goals match employees’ personal beliefs. The benefit corporation’s emphasis on dual objectives should attract socially minded employees by signaling that they will find a supportive structure in place. When employees then enter organizations that reflect their own values, they often exhibit greater motivation to act consistently with those values.
There is obviously much more to say about these points, and for anyone looking to wade deeper into them, I offer a fuller explanation here.
Unless the rapid spread of benefit corporation laws is evidence of an enthusiastic or cynical mistake (which I think is possible but unlikely), then there must be some underlying logic to unpack. My aim is to keep working to explain the social enterprise phenomenon, to put it into a clear theoretical framework, and to distill the best justifications for offering special organizational options for social entrepreneurs.