By Patrick Southern

Today, in a published opinion in the civil case of Lord & Taylor, LLC v. White Flint, L.P.,  the Fourth Circuit affirmed a ruling from the District of Maryland which refused to stop plans for redevelopment of a now-vacant shopping mall. It did so over the objections of the plaintiff, Lord & Taylor, which had argued the plans were barred by an existing Reciprocal Easement Agreement (“REA”) between the parties.

The Parties Had a Long-Standing Relationship

In 1975, White Flint began discussions with Lord & Taylor about developing a store at a new mall in Maryland. The parties ultimately agreed Lord & Taylor would serve as an anchor tenant in a building detached from the mall itself.

As part of their agreement, they entered into the REA, which bound White Flint to operating a three-story mall on the site. Any changes to the mall were to be approved by Lord & Taylor. The REA was to remain operative until at least 2042, and Lord & Taylor had an option to extend it until 2057 by exercising its final option to renew its lease.

The relationship was initially positive, but business at the mall steadily declined. By 2013, 75 percent of the mall’s tenants had left, and the mall was ultimately shuttered permanently early in 2015.

In October 2012, the local county government approved plans to tear down the mall and redevelop the site into a mixed-use development with apartments, parks, a hotel, and high-rise office buildings. The Lord & Taylor store was to remain in place.

Lord & Taylor Sought Declaratory Judgment and Injunctive Relief

Lord & Taylor filed an action to stop White Flint from going forward with the redevelopment plan, saying the REA promised Lord & Taylor’s store would have a “first class high fashion shopping center” adjacent to it for the duration of its lease. It said the new plans violated the terms of the REA and would negatively affect the store’s business.

Lord & Taylor sought declaratory judgment that the REA barred the plans and a permanent injunction that would prohibit White Flint from replacing the mall with the proposed “town center” development.

White Flint moved for partial summary judgment, arguing it would be infeasible for the courts to enforce an injunction requiring what was, by then, a mostly empty mall to resume operations and then to maintain status as a “first class high fashion shopping center” until 2057. White Flint further argued that halting the redevelopment project was against the public interest given the time and expense already devoted to the project.

The District Court granted White Flint’s motion, concluding an injunction would be unworkable in light of the advanced stage of the project.

Lord & Taylor Appealed On Two Grounds

On appeal to the Fourth Circuit, Lord & Taylor argued two separate issues: (1) that the district court erred by failing to apply the correct Maryland law to its request for injunctive relief, and (2) that the district court erred in judging the injunctive relief it sought would not be feasible.

The Fourth Circuit rejected both arguments, adopting similar reasoning to that of the District of Maryland in choosing to affirm the lower court’s decision.

The District Court Applied the Proper Legal Standards in Rendering Judgment

Lord & Taylor argued a proper application of Maryland law would necessarily mean an injunction should be granted. It indicated Maryland law strongly favors injunctive relief for breaches of restrictive covenants, to the point that other factors such as the public interest or the availability of monetary damages to compensate for a breach aren’t to be considered.

But the Fourth Circuit disagreed. It noted that even the cases cited by Lord & Taylor said that injunctive relief is subject to “sound judicial discretion.” Further, Maryland law makes clear that trial courts may take account of feasibility concerns, such as those cited by the District Court in this case, in considering injunctive relief for breach of a restrictive covenant.

The Fourth Circuit indicated Maryland courts have made clear that injunctions may be denied if they would cause courts to have to engage in “long-continued supervision” or “enforcement of the injunction would be ‘unreasonably difficult.'” Thus, it rejected Lord & Taylor’s argument.

The District Court Correctly Ruled Injunctive Relief Was Infeasible

Lord & Taylor further argued that the District Court incorrectly ruled that injunctive relief in this case would be infeasible. The Fourth Circuit reviewed that decision under an abuse of discretion standard and affirmed the lower court ruling. In making its decision, the Fourth Circuit noted that the practical realities of the situation didn’t weigh in favor of an injunction.

Much of the mall was vacant, so enforcing the REA would have necessitated an affirmative injunction ordering White Flint to transform the mall back into a “first class high fashion shopping center.” Such an order is difficult to draft with specificity, and also difficult to enforce. The court would be left to enforce detailed provisions involving parking and interior access roads, potentially for a protracted period of time, and such enforcement is beyond the level of judicial involvement that is practical.

While Lord & Taylor had indicated a “negative injunction” (which would merely bar the redevelopment plans from going forward) would be acceptable, the Fourth Circuit said that, too, was unrealistic. Such an injunction would freeze in place a vacant mall, and would essentially be a judicially-mandated blight on the area. The court was not prepared to take such a step, doing so would be against the public interest.

By Marcus Fields

            Today in Lee Graham Shopping Center, LLC v. Estate of Diane Z. Kirsch, a published opinion, the Fourth Circuit determined that the relevant Partnership Agreement was unambiguous in its prohibition of gift transfers of partnership interests to non-family members. Therefore the late Kirsch’s transfer of her partnership interest to Wayne Cullen via a revocable trust was invalid and the District Court was correct in granting summary judgment to the Partnership.

The Partnership Agreement and Contested Transfer of Kirsch’s Interest

In 1984, Dr. Paul Zehfuss and Eugene Smith converted the Lee Graham Shopping Center partnership, which they had founded in 1969, to a limited partnership – adopting a partnership agreement at the same time. Dr. Zehfuss died the following year and through his will, as well as gifts before his death, twenty one percent interest in the Partnership ultimately passed to his daughter, Diane Kirsch. In 2011, Kirsch was diagnosed with terminal cancer and in the process of estate planning assigned her limited partnership interest to the Kirsch Trust. The Kirsch Trust provided that the limited partnership interest would pass to the Cullen Trust, established for her long-term companion Wayne Cullen. Kirsch died the following year and in February 2013 the Partnership filed suit claiming that the Partnership Agreement prohibited the transfer of Kirsch’s interest to the Cullen Trust. The District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia granted summary judgment for the Partnership.

Jurisdiction was Proper:  Case does not Fall Within Probate Exception to Federal Diversity Jurisdiction

Cullen, a Maryland citizen, challenged the subject matter jurisdiction of the District Court claiming that the case fell within the probate exception to federal diversity jurisdiction. Citing the 2006 Supreme Court Case Marshall v. Marshall, the Fourth Circuit explained that this exception was to be construed narrowly and was limited to two types of cases: “(1) those that require the court to probate or annul a will or to administer a decedent’s estate, and (2) those that require the court to dispose of property in the custody of a state probate court.” The Fourth Circuit pointed out that the present case did not require the court to interpret or act on Kirsch’s will and that the property in question was in the custody of the Cullen Trust, not the probate court. Thus the probate exception does not apply and the court has subject matter jurisdiction under 28 U.S.C. § 1332.

The Partnership Agreement Does Not Permit Gift Transfers to Non-Family Members

The 1984 Partnership Agreement addresses the “Assignment of Limited Partner’s Interest,” in Section 6.02. The introductory clause to that section states that “[t]he interest of each Limited Partner in the Partnership shall be assignable subject to the following terms and conditions.” Cullen argues that this clause generally allows for the transfer of a Limited Partner’s interest unless restricted by the subsequent subsections (6.02(a)-(e)). Section 6.02(a) is titled “Limitations on Assignment,” and essentially creates a right of first refusal for the Partnership and all current partners. 6.02(e), titled “Family Transfers” provides that “[t]he sale or other transfer by a Partner, whether inter vivos or by will, of his Partnership interest … shall not be subject to the restrictions or limitations of Section 6.02(a)” if made to a family member.

The Fourth Circuit found that “[t]he clear reading of Section 6.02 as a whole is that interests may only be assigned pursuant to the terms of either 6.02(a) or 6.02(e).” It reasoned that to find otherwise would render the introductory clause and the clause in 6.02(e) – dealing with “other types of transfers between family members – superfluous. If transfers other than sales were generally allowed without restriction based on the introductory clause, as Cullen argues, then there would be no need to explicitly allow for non-sale transfers to family members in 6.02(e). The Fourth Circuit was also persuaded by the fact that both 6.02(a) and 6.02(e) served to provide favored treatment of family members because at the time the agreement was written the interests were held by the original partners or their family members.

Judgment of the District Court is Affirmed

In addition to the two issues discussed above, Cullen raised 10 additional issues as part of this appeal. The Fourth Circuit dispensed with these in a footnote, stating that “We have independently reviewed the record and we find that each of these contentions has either been waived or has no merit.” Thus the District Court’s grant of summary judgment was appropriate.

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By: Andrew Kilpinen

In an unpublished opinion today, the 4th Circuit affirmed the district court’s judgment in MidAtlantic Inter. Inc., v. AGC Flat Glass North America, Inc. The Court concluded that the district court correctly interpreted the contract at issue, appropriately shifted the burden of proof, and provided a fair trial.

In 2011, MidAtlantic International, Inc. (“MicAtlantic”) took an order from AGC Flat Glass North American, Inc. (“AGC”) for a shipment of dolomite. The contract included a “take-or-pay” clause – meaning that AGC was required to purchase the dolomite or pay a pre-determined fee akin to a liquidated damage. AGC argued at trial that the “take-or-pay” clause was not in effect for the order in question. MidAtlantic won a jury award of $902,106.22 against AGC for breach of contract.

 The “Take-or-Pay” Clause Was Ambiguous and The Evidence Supported The Trial Court’s Decision That The Clause Was In Effect.

 Parol evidence was appropriately admitted to interpret the “take-or-pay” clause because the clause was ambiguous. Evidence at trial showed that AGC’s employees manifested an understanding that the “take-or-pay” clause was in effect whenever an order of dolomite was ordered. The Court upheld the district court’s finding that this was the understanding of both parties.

 The District Court Did Not Abuse Its Discretion In Shifting The Burden of Proof.

 AGC argued on appeal that MidAtlantic should have been required to prove to the jury that the contract, including the “take-or-pay” clause, was enforceable when the order was made. The 4th Circuit affirmed the district court’s jury instructions that simply required MidAtlantic to prove that the order for dolomite was made because both parties understood the clause to be triggered when the order was placed.

 Court Took Appropriate Measures To Ensure That Jury Was Not Prejudiced After Judge Held AGC Counsel In Contempt.

 Finally, AGC argued on appeal that the jury was prejudiced against AGC because the judge held AGC counsel in contempt in front of the jury. The 4th Circuit ruled that the district court took necessary steps to ensure against any inference that the judge favored MidAtlantic: the judge explained immediately to the jury why AGC counsel was held in contempt and repeatedly reminded the jury that it’s remarks and rebukes were not an indication of support for either side.

By: Rolf Garcia-Gallont

Today, in United States v. King, the Fourth Circuit affirmed by unpublished per curiam opinion the sentences against Donnie King, Sr., (“Mr. King”) and Lou Wells King (“Mrs. King) for making materially false and fraudulent misrepresentations in relation to their Chapter 11 bankruptcy proceeding.

On appeal, the Kings contended that (1) the Government breached its plea agreements with the Kings by moving to be relieved of its obligations under the plea agreements; (2) the district court erred in permitting the Government to be relieved of its obligations under the plea agreements; (3) the Government committed prosecutorial misconduct by moving for relief from its obligations under the plea agreements; and (4) Mr. King’s sentence was unreasonable. Because the Kings did not raise these claims at trial, the Circuit Court reviewed for plain error.

Because the Kings Committed a Material Breach of the Plea Agreements, the Government Was Entitled to Move for Relief of its Obligations Under the Plea Agreement . Therefore, the Government’s Motion Was Neither a Breach of the Agreement nor Prosecutorial Misconduct.

The Kings were required by the plea agreements to abide by any conditions of release before their sentencing. One such condition was that the Kings abide by federal law. The Kings subsequently filed a false tax return in violation of federal law.

The Fourth Circuit held that as a matter of contract interpretation, this violation constituted a material breach of the plea agreements, and that the Government was entitled to move for relief of its own obligations. In light of the Kings’ material breach, the district court did not err in granting that relief. Additionally, because the Government was entitled to relief, moving to request it did not constitute prosecutorial misconduct.

Mr. King Waived His Right to Appeal the Reasonableness of His Sentence

As part of his plea agreement, Mr. King agreed to a broad waiver of his right to appeal. Because the record of Mr. King’s Rule 11 colloquy showed that Mr. King knowingly and intelligently agreed to the waiver, the Court held that the waiver was valid. Finally, the Court held that Mr. King’s attempt to appeal the reasonableness of his sentence was within the scope of his appeal waiver, and dismissed the appeal of his sentence.

By Evelyn Norton

Did the District Court Err in Granting Summary Judgment in Defendants’ Favor?

Today, in Rogers v. Deane, the Fourth Circuit affirmed the decision of the District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia granting summary judgment in the Defendant’s favor.  Plaintiff-Appellant Edwina Rogers argued that the district court erred in granting summary judgment to Defendants Jon Deane and Gaffey Deane Talley, PLLC on Rogers’ claims for breach of contract and statutory business conspiracy.  Further, Rogers’ alleged that the district court should have granted her request for the opportunity to conduct discovery before granting summary judgment to Defendants.

  1. The District Court Did Not Err in Granting Summary Judgment to Defendants on Rogers’ Claim for Breach of Contract.

In reviewing the evidence in the record, the Fourth Circuit concluded that the district court properly granted summary judgment to Defendants on the claim for breach of contract.  The evidence clearly showed Rogers’ alleged damages were not caused by Defendant’s breach of contract.

  1. The District Court Did Not Err in Granting Summary Judgment to Defendants on Rogers’ Claim for Statutory Business Conspiracy.

The Fourth Circuit also concluded that the district court properly granted summary judgment in Defendants’ favor on the statutory business conspiracy claim.  To prevail on a business conspiracy claim under Va. Code Ann. §§ 18.2-499 and 18.2-500, a plaintiff must establish by clear and convincing evidence that a defendant acted with legal malice.  However, the Fourth Circuit found no evidence in the record that Defendants acted with legal malice toward Rogers’ business.  Thus, summary judgment in Defendants’ favor was proper.

  1. The District Court Did Not Err in Granting Summary Judgment to Defendants Without Granting Rogers’ Request for Discovery.

Finally, the Fourth Circuit concluded that granting summary judgment without allowing discovery was proper.  Under Rule 56(d) of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, summary judgment should be refused if the nonmovant has not had the opportunity to discover information essential to the nonmovant’s opposition.  However, the request should be denied if if the additional evidence to be obtained through discovery would not create a genuine dispute of material fact sufficient to defeat summary judgment.  In this case, the Fourth Circuit found no basis in the record for concluding that discovery would produce evidence creating a genuine dispute of material fact.  Accordingly, the Fourth Circuit affirmed the district court’s grant of summary judgment in Defendant’s favor without first granting Rogers’ request to conduct discovery.

Decision Affirmed

The Fourth Circuit affirmed summary judgment in favor of Defendants on both the breach of contract and statutory business conspiracy claims.

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By: Andrew Kilpinen

Today in Davis v. City of Greensboro, the 4th Circuit found jurisdiction to hear an appeal, and ultimately affirmed a district court order rejecting the City of Greensboro’s governmental immunity defense in a breach of contract dispute over wage pay.

Current and retired Greensboro police officers and firefighters brought multiple suits against the City. At issue were changes to the City’s “longevity payment program,” a program through which the City provided annual lump-sum payments to police officers and firefighters based on the number of years they worked for the city. According to the complaint, the City began to reduce the amount paid and even converted some to discretionary bonuses. Additionally, these changes indirectly impacted the officer’s overtime pay-rate and contributions to their retirement funds.

As a general rule, a municipality in North Carolina waives governmental immunity when it enters into a valid contract. Thus, the central issue in this case was whether or not there existed a valid contract between the City and the police officers and firefighters.

The district court order denied the City’s motion to dismiss finding that the officer’s complaint “sufficiently alleged a contractual … obligation.” The City of Greensboro appealed.

As a preliminary matter, the Court ruled that the district court’s order rejecting the City’s governmental immunity defense was subject to interlocutory review under the collateral order doctrine, and therefore had jurisdiction to hear the City’s appeal.

On appeal, the City of Greensboro argued that:

  1. The officers were required, and failed, to allege the existence of pre-audit certificates.
  2. The officers were required, and failed, to allege that their contracts were written.

(1)

The statute only requires pre-audit certificates for contracts due the year they are formed.

N.C. Gen. Stat. §159-28 (a) provides that: “ [I]f a pre-audit certificate is necessary but lacking, there is no valid contract.” Therefore, the City argued, since the officers did not allege any pre-audit certificate in their complaint, any claim based on that contract must fail. The Court rejected this argument citing the North Carolina Court of Appeals decision in Myers v. Town of Plymouth: §159-28 (a) only applies to a “financial obligation that will come due in the year the town incurs the obligation.”

Here, the alleged contractual rights were formed years ago, and the financial obligations were due more than a year later. Therefore 159-28 (a) does not apply and the officers did not need to plead the existence of any pre-audit certificates.

 (2)

The facts alleged in the complaint are sufficient to satisfy the Greensboro Charter’s writing requirement.

Turning to the Greensboro Charter, which provides that “[a]ll contracts, except as otherwise provided for in this Charter, shall be … reduced to writing in order to be binding upon the City,” the City argued that the officer’s claims must fail because they were not reduced to writing. The Court was unimpressed.

The City cited no authority for the proposition that a plaintiff must allege that a contract be written in order to state a claim for breach of contract. Regardless, the Court pointed out that the facts contained in the complaint would have been sufficient to survive a motion to dismiss. When construed in the light most favorable to the officers, the facts alleged in the officer’s complaint satisfied the Charter’s writing requirement because their Employee Handbook listed longevity pay as a “benefit.”

In conclusion, the Court affirmed the circuit court’s order finding sufficient facts of a valid contract between the City and the officers. Thus, the City’s governmental immunity defense failed and the officer’s claims could proceed.

By: Tess Wilkinson-Ryan*

Introduction

This Essay argues that the “psychological contract”—the parties’ respective, subjective, idiosyncratic understandings of their contractual obligations to one another—is important and predictable.  The common law of contract tells us how to discern the legal promise.  By contrast, the “psychological contract” describes how the parties themselves understand their agreements, an inquiry that refers to the legal rules but also relies heavily on evidence from behavioral decision research: psychology, experimental economics, and empirical legal scholarship.  The goal of this argument is to uncover the coherent structure of empirical contracts findings.  This analysis pulls out the common mechanisms underlying a broad range of behavioral findings and offers a framework for predicting behavioral effects in real-world decisions.

Contracts scholars have always done a lot of talking about promising.  Is a contractual agreement the same thing as a promise?[1]  Is it wrong to break a contractual promise?[2]  Is the contract a promise to perform or a promise to either perform or pay damages?[3]  Philosophers, judges, and economists have all turned their attention to these questions in the last century.[4]  It should not be a surprise, then, to find that empirical legal scholars have begun to weigh in.  Recent behavioral work on contract and promise has yielded a torrent of compelling results.  A sampling: individuals prefer specific performance to money damages;[5] are more likely to comply with negotiated agreements than take-it-or-leave-it contracts;[6] are less likely to perform when a contract has been assigned;[7] and put more effort into performance when they are threatened with a deduction than when they are promised a bonus.[8]  These kinds of findings pose a real challenge.  On the one hand, they offer empirical evidence of how people navigate their legal and social worlds, and this is something that any model of contract behavior ought to capture.  On the other hand, there are literally dozens of discrete results like these, and there is no obvious way to understand when they matter, how they interact with one another, and how to use them to build a better model of contracting in the real world.

Many scholars have recognized that the content of parties’ understandings of their mutual obligations is not fully encapsulated by the contract terms and background law.[9]  However, if you cannot figure out what parties think they are agreeing to by looking at the contract or looking at the legal default rules, it begins to seem pointless to even try to apprehend the parties’ subjective understandings and expectations—but that need not be the case.  The baseline commonsense view is that contracts are promises to perform, and breaching a contract is morally wrong in the same way that breaking a promise is morally wrong.[10]  Furthermore, empirical research on informal norms in legal decision making has yielded evidence that people draw on a set of consistent moral intuitions and social norms to understand the substance of the promissory obligation.[11]  Behavioral economics has been criticized for offering lists of biases and heuristics but no way of predicting the magnitude of each effect or how they interact with other incentives and constraints in legal decision making.[12]  The goal of this Essay is to discern some organizing principles for applying psychological research to the law and practice of contractual transactions.

The concept of the psychological contract is drawn mainly from organizational behavior research.[13]  Contract law assumes that parties understand their contracts to include both the permissible terms included in the contract and the background rules of contract.[14]  Psychological research on contractual exchange, interpreted broadly to include basic experimental research on trust and reciprocity, has offered three main contributions to the field.  First, a series of findings suggests that most people do not know the background rules of contract and assume that the applicable rules are in line with their own moral intuitions.[15]  Second, in many cases, parties understand their contractual obligations to encompass general moral and social norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness.[16]  Third, parties incorporate relationship-specific informal norms and agreements into the psychological contract, even when those norms and agreements are clearly outside, or even in conflict with, the explicit provisions of the written agreement.[17]

In other words, the research that bears on the psychological contract is about three different kinds of normative expectations: the normative expectations of the legal system, the normative expectations of our society, and the normative expectations of the counterparty.[18]  This parsing of existing empirical literature has important benefits for contracts scholarship.  The first is that it takes a series of ad hoc findings and pulls out the underlying mechanisms that connect them.  The other advantage this kind of analysis offers is a way to think about how a given result matters for a particular context.  For example, how should we think about cognitive bias in a context in which the parties are usually sophisticated repeat players?  How will parties represented by counsel differ from those who negotiate directly?  This analysis suggests as a starting point to ask what the parties in question believe that others expect of them and what their incentives are for taking those expectations seriously.

The argument proceeds in five steps.  Part I introduces the concept of a psychological contract and identifies the overlaps and notable divergences between psychological and legal contracts.  Part II presents common misconceptions about contract law that shape the way that ordinary citizens understand their legal obligations in contract.  Part III argues that most people believe that their contractual promises include implicit commitments to honor moral and social norms like promise keeping and reciprocity.  Part IV argues that even when parties ignore or disclaim background social norms in their contract relationships, they are nonetheless attentive to party-specific norms, taking into account the counterparty’s legitimate expectations.  Finally, Part V takes up some persistent questions and particular contract doctrines in light of this analysis.

I.  The Psychological Contract

A contract is a promise that the legal system recognizes; the psychological contract is the promise that the parties themselves recognize.  Denise Rousseau, a professor and researcher of organizational behavior, first argued for the existence of psychological contracts distinct from written, enforceable contracts in the employment context:

The term psychological contract refers to an individual’s beliefs regarding the terms and conditions of a reciprocal exchange agreement between that focal person and another party.  Key issues here include the belief that a promise has been made and a consideration offered in exchange for it, binding the parties to some set of reciprocal obligations.[19]

In some ways, the psychological contract looks much like the actual contract.  Both are meant to contain the terms of a bargained-for exchange.  The psychological contract is not about bare promising; rather, it refers to the parties’ expectations of one another in a mutually beneficial deal.[20]  Psychologically, at least, the parties believe that their obligations are mutual and supported by consideration.[21]  And, indeed, agreement about the terms of exchange is good for productivity.  Guillermo Dabos and Denise Rousseau studied employer-employee dyads in university research centers and assessed the extent of consistency between their respective interpretations of the exchange agreement.[22]  They found that more agreement about the nature of the contract terms (mutuality) and the implicit exchanges they represented (reciprocity) was associated with measurably higher joint productivity.[23]  The psychological contract is not primarily characterized by an employee’s unrealistic list of expectations.  Rather, it is often an objectively reasonable, and even explicitly agreed-upon, schema for the terms of the exchange.[24]

Also like the real contract context, breach of the psychological contract has to do with the failure of one party to perform, not with the broader category of disappointed expectations.  Employers may fail to live up to their employees’ expectations in many ways.  A company may be less successful than expected, or the coworkers less friendly or helpful, but an employee will not necessarily feel betrayed in these situations.  The psychological contract literature argues that employees experience breach when they believe a benefit is either owed or promised.[25]  In turn, the understanding of what is owed and promised depends on the contract schema.  A schema is a mental model of a concept or category, sometimes described as “a theory of reality.”[26]  It “refers to cognitive structures of organized prior knowledge, abstracted from experience with specific instances” and guides both the encoding of new information and the retrieval of existing knowledge and memory.[27]  The schema of a particular contract includes prior beliefs about the nature of the domain as well as explicit rights and obligations iterated during the agreement stage.[28]  What this means in practical terms is that people pay particular attention to schema-relevant information.  The schema for “dog” includes things like four legs, fur, and barking.  We can all agree that a dog with one missing leg is still a dog, but such a deviation from the schematic expectation is surprising and salient.  In the employment contract world, the “cashier” schema presumably includes the handling of money and being polite to customers but probably does not include janitorial tasks.  It should not be surprising that an employee hired to be a cashier would feel taken advantage of if it turned out that her responsibilities included cleaning toilets, whereas one hired to be a janitor would not.

In other ways, of course, psychological contracts differ substantially from legal contracts—that is why they are a subject worthy of separate consideration.  First, the psychological contract is, by definition, subjective.[29]  Its terms do not depend on actual or even constructive mutual agreement.  To take a famous example as counterpoint, consider Frigaliment Importing Co. v. B.N.S. International Sale Corp.,[30] in which two parties to a contract have divergent interpretations of the meaning of “chicken.”[31]  The court interpreting the contract goes to considerable effort to figure out what the parties could reasonably be understood to have meant in order to determine the nature of the true contract.[32]  Assessing the meaning of the psychological contract is much easier: the contract is what each of the parties thinks it is.  The fact that there are two psychological contracts does not affect the validity of either one.[33]  The psychological contract is defined by one party’s understanding of her agreement with another, written or unwritten, legally enforceable or not.

Second, unlike a legal contract, the psychological contract is not necessarily enforceable.  Existing scholarship on psychological contracts deals almost entirely with unenforceable terms.[34]  This is partly a quirk of the history of psychological contracts, which have been studied mainly in the context of employment contracts.[35] Although formal employer-employee contracts certainly exist, they are necessarily incomplete and quickly out-of-date.[36]  However, these unwritten and unenforceable terms are often of great import to the parties.[37]  For example, an employee may take a lower-paying job because she understands that the employer is offering long-term stability (for example, government work).  In the same vein, an employer may offer a raise to an employee expected to be more productive in a new role.  These are contracts that are rarely enforceable in court and, indeed, are not understood by the parties themselves to have legal ramifications.[38]

The idea of the psychological contract has purchase outside of the employment context and ought to be taken seriously even for contracts that the parties believe to be legally meaningful.  In the framework I am proposing, I am assuming that every legal agreement involves a psychological contract.  On one end of the spectrum, we might have a straightforward one-shot deal negotiated by attorneys for which the psychological contract is entirely captured by the written terms.  At the other extreme, buyers and sellers may have long-term relationships in which they exchange written forms but explicitly agree that their deal is governed by the informal arrangements that they have worked out over time.  In other words, in some cases, the overlap of the enforceable legal contract and the psychological contract may be complete, and in other cases, nearly nonexistent.  My contention is only that every contract involves parties who have some mental picture of their rights and obligations, whether this picture is in conflict with the legal contract, complementary to the legal contract, or exactly the same as the legal contract.

The implications of the psychological contract for parties’ behavior have been taken up mainly as questions of when employees perceive breach of that contract and how they respond.[39]  The remedies for breach of contract are typically negotiated between the parties with the knowledge that a remedy at law is available.  The remedy for breach of the psychological contract is essentially self-help—retaliation or exit.  One study of graduate management alumni from a top business school found that over half of the respondents reported that their employers had breached the psychological contract, and the psychological contract breach had real consequences.[40]  Violations were correlated with employee dissatisfaction and high turnover.[41]  Researchers have also observed that when employees perceive a breach, they become more likely to shirk.[42]  This kind of effect is largely mediated by the effect of breach on trust.  When one party perceives the other party’s breach as a betrayal, the loss of trust in turn erodes the non-breaching party’s commitment to the contract, which leads to employees putting in less effort or even quitting.[43]

As I have noted, most work on the psychological contract is interested in what happens when the contract is breached.  But the concept of a psychological contract has implications for other questions I will take up here.  How do parties decide whether to breach their contract?  How does the background law affect the psychological contract?  How does the actual contract affect the psychological contract?  In other words, what is the content of the psychological contract?

When parties are trying to figure out their contractual obligations, they ask themselves what is expected of them.  Philosopher Cristina Bicchieri has argued that the idea of “normative expectations” is crucial for understanding when a norm exists.[44]  We know that a particular behavior is a norm not just because a lot of people are doing it but because we understand that other people believe that we ought to follow the rule.[45]  Here, I am arguing that the psychological contract is informed by a party’s understanding of three sets of normative expectations, those of the legal system, of culture or society, and of the other party.

Norms can affect behavior via multiple pathways.  People may choose to follow a norm because they believe that the norm will be enforced, either formally or informally, or because they believe that they are morally obligated to follow the norm irrespective of the prospect of sanctions.[46]  In the Part of this Essay on legal norms, I am primarily referring to the rules that parties think will be enforced, though I do not discount the possibility that most people think following the law is the right thing to do even when the possibility of punishment is infinitesimal.  In the subsequent Parts on social and party-specific norms, the core of the argument is about “moral norms”—norms that people believe they should follow even without threat of sanctions.[47]

II.  Legal Norms

What help could psychology possibly be in understanding positive law?  The most facially plausible answer is probably “none.”  If you want to know what the legal system expects of you, surely you should start looking up statutes or checking the case law—the cognitive processes of the citizens bound by a set of legal norms are not especially useful for understanding the actual legal rules.  Be that as it may, we may still want to worry about the cases in which parties do not know the legal rule or norm, but they think they do.  As long as we are in the realm of private decision making, parties’ predictions about a particular legal response matter, irrespective of their basis in actual legal rules.

This is essentially a new twist on an old argument.  Robert Mnookin and Lewis Kornhauser introduced the idea of the law as a framework within which individuals act when they described “bargaining in the shadow of the law.”[48]  The basic thrust of their proposition is that legal rules can serve as bounds or frames on private ordering.[49]  In many cases, the law does not and need not define parties’ entitlements or obligations specifically, but it does place limits on how individuals can choose to define and execute their private agreements.  Parties may be limited because they understand that a particular arrangement is prohibited (for example, a penalty clause in contract) or required (for example, certain forms of insurance for employees).[50]  But they may also be practically limited because the parties have an understanding of the likely outcome in court—for instance, what a jury would award in a tort case, or how a judge would allocate property in a divorce proceeding.[51]  A rational party to a contract who wishes to breach is unlikely to pay the disappointed promisee more than the sum of a court’s likely award plus transactions costs because he knows it is cheaper to go to court.  The idea of law as a framework to the parties’ negotiations is a really powerful one, and in this argument I want to leverage it with the following modification: as long as we are talking about private parties making decisions without the aid of counsel, behavior is bounded by thesupposed legal rule, whether or not it is correct.  But what is that supposed legal rule?  In the contracts context, what parties think the law requires of them is neither entirely random nor entirely based in fact—studies suggest that people tend to believe that they are bound by the terms of the contract as written.[52]

Evidence from a variety of substantive domains suggests that when people do not know the legal rule, they assume that it is in line with their intuitions.  When people do not know the criminal statutes that apply in a jurisdiction, they predict that the applicable law is the intuitive one.[53]  In family law, for example, people believe not only that fault ought to matter for the division of property at divorce but that it does.[54]  Even when subjects are informed that fault is irrelevant for the division of property, they predict that the judge will nonetheless take it into account.[55]  In this Part, I make two main claims about intuitive approaches to the law of contract.  First, many people think that signing a contract is essentially a waiver of most rights, such that any promise formally consented to is binding.  Second, they think that the available (and perhaps default) legal remedies include specific performance and punitive damages—remedies that reflect the underlying violation of promise breaking.[56]

A.     Formality and Enforceability

My first claim is that people think that the legal system holds parties to the explicit terms of their contracts.  This has implications for various contract doctrines on unenforceable terms.  At the anecdotal level, many law professors have the sense that first-year law students are surprised to learn about the rule against penalty clauses.  They believe that if the parties contracted for the penalty, then the court will enforce it.  Studies have also observed this effect.  For example, one study found that subjects who read a contract with an exculpatory clause reported that they would be less likely to sue than subjects who read the same contract without the exculpatory clause—even though the clause would almost certainly be unenforceable.[57]  As Lawrence Cunningham has pointed out, it also means that the notion of consideration is often ignored; most people think that promises to make gifts are legally enforceable.[58]  To the extent that ordinary citizens make an intuitive connection between promise and contract, they expect that any freely assumed contractual obligation may be enforced, in the same way that we would hold someone accountable for breaking an ill-considered but nonetheless freely made promise.[59]

B.     Specific Performance and Punitive Damages

An intuitive account of contract law also diverges from the actual common law in the area of remedies.  Many people have the intuition that as long as both parties legitimately agreed to the bargain, the court will “throw its weight on the side of performance” in the famous words of Holmes’s dissenting opinion in Bailey v. Alabama.[60]  This means that they think that specific performance is common and appropriate even in cases in which damages are easy to estimate.  In one study, subjects were presented with six fairly run-of-the-mill breach of contract scenarios.[61]  The harms were minor and easily calculable.[62]  Nonetheless, more than half of the subjects not only believed that specific performance was appropriate in many of the cases but predicted that at least one of the cases would result in an award of specific performance.[63]  Along these lines, subjects also believed that a judge could and would award punitive damages in these contracts cases, punishing willful breachers.[64]  Similarly, in a number of studies, subjects have indicated an overall preference for damages above the expectation level—in other words, they seem to want to impose punitive damages.[65]

In all, when ordinary citizens guess (and guess wrongly) about the legal rules governing contract, they assume that the terms of the agreement are first and foremost guided by the text of the contract and, in turn, that the court’s enforcement is motivated by that principle, holding people as closely as possible to their actual promises and punishing them for the wrong of promise breaking.

III.  Social and Moral Norms

Parties to a contract consider themselves to be constrained by the legal rules of contract, the social and moral norms of the culture in which they are contracting, and the party- or transaction-specific norms relevant to the particular contract in question.  This Part addresses the role of cultural norms in the psychological contract.  At least in the context of American contract law, behavioral research has identified two important norms.  First, most people believe that they have a moral obligation to keep their promises.[66]  Second, the contractual obligation is affected by the norm of fairness, encouraging parties to reward trust with trustworthiness and to punish selfishness with breach.[67]

A.     Promise Keeping

It is hard to overstate the importance of promise keeping for human cultures.  Every known society has espoused a moral rule requiring individuals to honor their promises to one another.[68]  Contract scholars were analyzing contract doctrine in terms of the moral requirements of promising well before Charles Fried’s book,[69] and modern philosophers of contract continue to argue that contract law is all about promising.[70]  This has also played out in the descriptive literature.  Relational contract studies speak specifically to the notion of promise, detailing the importance of extracontractual promising for the psychological contract.[71] Even in one-shot games, players in experimental settings are much more likely to cooperate if they have promised to do so.[72]  Promise keeping is a strong norm.

Behavioral researchers have struggled with the question of why people keep their promises, an issue with real implications for contract law.  One theory is that people have general other-regarding preferences and do not want others to be disappointed; promising generally creates a set of expectations, and that is why breaking a promise is bad.  Alternatively, we may think that people have a strong preference for honoring their freely undertaken commitments, in which case it is the promise itself, not the resultant expectations, that contains the core of the moral obligation.  Experimental evidence suggests that there is real support for the latter explanation—that the preference is at least partially dependent on the promise itself.[73]

Decision researcher Christoph Vanberg used a “Dictator Game” to test the explanations.[74]  In a Dictator Game, the Dictator is given some amount of money and then instructed to offer any or none of it to the Recipient.[75]  The Recipient receives whatever was offered, and the game is over.[76]  Players typically do not meet face-to-face and communicate only by computer.[77]  In this version, players were paired up before being assigned their roles and told that the Dictators would be able to make one of two choices: either to keep fourteen Euros and give nothing to the Recipient, or to keep ten Euros and give the Recipient a five-sixths chance of receiving twelve Euros (with a one-sixth chance of receiving nothing).[78]  Most pairs exchanged promises that the Dictator would choose the sharing option.[79] After the players were told their roles, half of them were switched to new partners.[80]  Then the Dictators made their choices.[81]  Vanberg found that Dictators were less likely to share when they were matched with a new partner, even if they knew that the new partner had been promised sharing by her previous partner.[82] Thus, in two situations with equally deserving, expectant promisees, the players most likely to be generous were those who had made the particular promise, to the particular counterparty, to be generous.

Evidence from this controlled, incentive-compatible experiment comports with reports from formal and informal surveys of contracting parties.  For example, self-reported data from a study of moral intuitions in contract indicate that people think that breaking a contract is more morally culpable and ought to be more severely punished than an identical harm in tort.[83]  That means that the broken promise is treated as an additional blameworthy act.  In theory, people could believe that a promise in contract is the kind of promise that Holmes envisioned—a promise to either perform or pay damages.[84]  Substantial evidence suggests that this is not the case.[85]  For most ordinary citizens, keeping one’s word means actually undertaking the promised performance.  As one participant in an earlier study of my own commented, “[p]eople should be held to their word, and a contract is the legally binding word.”[86]

B.     Fairness

The intuitive connection between promise and contract is so strong that it can obscure the equally important relationship between contract and notions of fairness.  Contracts in the American common law tradition require promising (mutual assent), but that is not, of course, sufficient.  There must also be consideration—a mutuality of obligation, or an exchange.[87]  It is this element of exchange that implicates fairness norms.  You can break a promise without being unfair to the promisee, but any exchange is subject to judgments about the fairness of each party’s formal obligations and actual performance.  In contract law, courts formally take up fairness questions in a variety of contexts that deal with the nature of the parties’ obligations to one another: when they consider whether the promise is illusory,[88] when they decide whether a party has breached,[89] and when they decide whether the contract is unconscionable.[90]  Individuals also understand their obligations with reference to fairness norms.  Within contracts, parties have to make a number of decisions about how to perform—decisions that are essentially guided by the terms of the psychological contract.  In this Subpart, I argue that parties understand their obligations in terms of reciprocity and bounded self-interest.

1.     Reciprocity

Reciprocity norms cut in two directions.  First, people often reward trust or generosity with trustworthiness and reciprocal generosity.  Second, they respond punitively to selfishness and greed.

The implications of positive reciprocity norms for contract are straightforward.  There are lots of ways in which parties have leeway in how they treat one another.  Reciprocal generosity may take the form of allowing minor delays or modifications without complaint, performing fully rather than shirking on the margins, or, when breach is more profitable than performance, performing and forgoing an additional profit.  In a typical contractual exchange, the promisor has at least two reasons to be generous toward the promisee.  First, the promisee has chosen the promisor from the group of possible counterparties.  This confers a material benefit on the promisor (for example, landing a job) and signals that the promisee believes that the promisor is trustworthy.  Second, the promisee has often already begun or even completed performance.

The paradigmatic experimental design used to demonstrate this type of reciprocity is the “Trust Game,” and it has been used by a number of scholars to test explicitly contractual hypotheses.[91]  The Trust Game has two players: an Investor and a Trustee.[92]  The Investor is endowed with some amount of money, often ten dollars, and advised that she may pass any amount of it to the Trustee.[93]  Any money passed to the Trustee triples so that the Trustee receives three times the amount that the Investor gives up.[94]  In the last move of the game, the Trustee may pass back some of her endowment to the Investor.[95]  In various iterations on this game, experimenters have demonstrated that Investors usually make a positive amount of money on their investments in Trustees, even though Trustees have no extrinsic incentive to give away any of their money.[96]

The moral and social norm of positive reciprocity is clearly relevant in contract law, but the parallel norm of retaliation is also important, if less obvious.  Negative reciprocity comes into play with respect to both breach and performance: aggrieved parties will want to punish selfish breaches of contract, and selfish or distrusting behavior by one party will decrease the other party’s incentives to perform.[97]  People experience breach of contract as a betrayal, and when they believe that the other party has been selfish, greedy, or dishonest, the desire to punish is exacerbated.[98]  Subjects in questionnaire experiments report that they think that greedy breachers should be punished more severely than unfortunate breachers.[99]  They are more sympathetic toward accidental breaches than otherwise identical breaches caused by minor shirking and are apt to punish dishonesty more harshly than ineptitude, holding the magnitude of harm constant.[100]

Even when the parties remain in the contract, negative reciprocity norms may affect performance.  The classic case is the self-fulfilling prophecy of distrust—a promisor who believes she is not trusted and is untrustworthy in response.  Entering a contract is often an indication in itself of a party’s trust for her counterparty.  However, by the terms of their agreements, parties can choose and express their respective levels of trust.  One indicator of distrust is monitoring.[101]  The paradigmatic example of this might be in the childcare context.  Parents can choose to trust that their babysitters are going to be hard working, kind, and responsive—or they can buy a NannyCam and watch for themselves.  Swiss economist Bruno Frey has modeled the worker’s utility function with the inclusion of a “conscience” element and has argued that if there is no mutual trust relationship with the employers, the employee’s marginal benefit from work effort may be overcome by “profitable shirking.”[102]  When a psychological contract exists between parties, increased monitoring is perceived to be an indication of distrust, in turn inducing the monitored parties to put less effort into their work.[103]

This model has been borne out experimentally.  In one laboratory game, players were partnered in a principal-agent relationship.[104]  The agent began the game with an endowment, and the principal with nothing.[105]  The primary task for the game was for the agent to decide on a productivity level (essentially a decision about how to share the endowment), choosing from a predetermined set of productivity levels.[106]  The principal was permitted to further restrict the decision set to raise the minimum productivity.[107]  Experimenters compared the agent’s productivity in three conditions: no productivity requirement, exogenous productivity requirement (for example, experimenter raised the minimum), or principal-chosen productivity requirement.[108]  When there was no requirement for productivity, agents were productive—more productive or generous than would be expected if they were strict wealth maximizers.[109]  When the productivity requirement was exogenously determined, they remained overall fairly generous.[110]  However, when the principal set the productivity requirement, productivity fell to the bare minimum.[111]  There was a “hidden cost” to control, in the sense that when the principals used formal controls over the agents, the agents reported that the productivity requirement from the principal was a signal of distrust.[112]

There is evidence that this negative reciprocity has effects in contextualized contracts studies as well as in the real world.  Studies of liquidated damages clauses[113]and contract assignment,[114] respectively, have offered evidence that people are more willing to breach contracts in which their counterparties have made these self-protective moves.  One salient example of negative reciprocity in high-stakes, real-world contracting involves strategic default on subprime mortgages.  In a number of debates over the economic and moral implications of defaulting on a home loan, commenters have suggested that walking away from an underwater loan seems much less problematic when the counterparty is a bank that has itself acted in bad faith by peddling subprime loans in already vulnerable communities.[115]  Parties to contracts have real power to adjust their behavior to respond to the moral and social incentives and reciprocity.

2.     Bounded Self-Interest

When parties enter into a contractual relationship, they change their interpersonal stance.  They may not become friends or partners, but they are no longer permitted to exploit every weakness or grab every advantage.  In contract law, this principle is espoused in the duty of good faith and fair dealing.[116]  In the psychological contract, the colloquial understanding of this duty has some particular parameters: parties often believe that it is fine to protect a profit at the expense of others but unfair to seek to increase a profit at their expense.[117]  Daniel Kahneman, Jack Knetsch, and Richard Thaler refer to this as the “reference transaction,” a term that explicitly refers to the underlying Prospect Theory mechanism behind the effect.[118]  Of course, economists would say that the distinction between seeking and keeping a profit is essentially meaningless, insofar as it depends entirely on framing.[119]  The idea is that parties evaluate the fairness of a party’s actions by looking to the reference transaction.[120]  In the contract context, the reference transaction is the original contract.  An example from the original paper is as follows:

A small company employs several workers and has been paying them average wages.  There is severe unemployment in the area and the company could easily replace its current employees with good workers at a lower wage.  The company has been making money.  The owners reduce the current workers’ wages by 5 percent.[121]

Seventy-seven percent of respondents thought this was unfair.[122]  But if the company’s position is different, the norm changes.  When subjects read that “[t]he company has been losing money.  The owners reduce the current workers’ wages by 5 percent,” only thirty-two percent thought that the wage-cut was unfair.[123]  In this example, the contract is the employment contract between the company and its workers.  The contract is for a certain kind of labor in return for a specified wage.  The original terms are the “reference transaction.”  The firm is permitted to “breach”—to deliver less than it promised in the original contract—in order to protect its original profits.  It is not permitted to burden the other party in order to add to its own benefit.

Oliver Hart and John Moore have used the idea of the reference transaction in their development of a model of behavior called “contracts as reference points.”[124] Hart and Moore posit that contracts shape parties’ expectations, and thus their evaluations of outcomes.[125]  As such, parties who enter into low-profit deals and earn low profits are content; parties who enter into more flexible deals and earn the same low profits are aggrieved.[126]  This prediction was tested by Ernst Fehr, Oliver Hart, and Christian Zehnder using a laboratory game.[127]  I describe the game in detail here because its results have very interesting implications for contract.  Participants in the game were assigned to be either buyers or sellers who participate in an auction.[128]  Buyers could choose to offer a rigid contract with a fixed price determined by the auction or a flexible contract in which the auction determined only the lower bound of the price.[129]  Once buyers and sellers were paired, they were informed about the “state of nature” or the market value of the trade.[130]  If the contract is rigid, the state of nature has no effect on the trade because the price is set.[131]  If the contract is flexible, the buyer chooses how to set the price within the established bounds.[132]  The final decision is the seller’s: the seller can choose what level of “quality” to provide—in this game, choosing low quality means choosing unilaterally to decrease the buyer’s profit.[133]  The main variable of interest is how sellers respond to low profits across contract types (rigid vs. flexible) when the value of the trade is high.[134]  When the contract is rigid, they offer normal quality—that is, they do not do anything to decrease the buyer’s profit.[135]  When the contract is flexible, however, sellers are more likely to offer low quality.[136]  This means that players did not retaliate when the buyer was selfish at the auction stage; they only retaliated when a buyer with flexibility was selfish at the performance stage.  Once the buyer is in the contract, he is no longer permitted to raise his own profits at the expense of the seller’s expected profit.

The idea of the contract as a reference point for understanding expectations helps to explain, and predict, a variety of contract behaviors.  For example, experimental evidence suggests people are more sympathetic toward a breacher who breaks a deal in order to avoid an unexpected loss than they are toward a breacher who breaks a deal to take advantage of an unexpected opportunity for gain.[137]  A party who asks for an increase in the contract price to respond to an increase in costs of materials is regarded as sensible, but one who asks for a higher price in response to increased demand or need is regarded as exploitative.[138]  Most people are highly loss averse, and this aversion helps define the boundaries of fair dealing within the contract.[139]

IV.  Party-Specific Norms

The previous Parts argued that the psychological contract encompasses background norms of fairness and promise keeping.  These are general norms, norms that most people take into account by default.  In this Part, I turn to the more idiosyncratic norms that form between two parties to a contract.  These unwritten elements of the agreement may be the result of explicit communication between the parties, or they may come about in the context of a long-term exchange relationship in which the parties’ behaviors have become predictable.

A.     Customs, Relationships, and Contracts

In many ways, the existence of party-specific norms is one of the easiest propositions to defend to a contracts audience.  This is a concept that has been around for a long time, and one that began with traditional legal scholars rather than social scientists.  In 1963, Stewart Macaulay interviewed both businessmen and attorneys practicing in Wisconsin.[140]  He found that when parties to a contractual exchange were engaged in repeated similar transactions, they often relied on “normal business patterns” to define their obligations.[141]  When disputes arose, most interviewees reported that they preferred to settle the matter without reference to the written contract, and certainly without resort to formal dispute resolution.[142]

The importance of repeated transactions is clear not only for contract dyads but for small communities with known standards of transacting.  In such cases, parties know how others have behaved in the past even if they have not been directly involved with one another.  One of the most interesting case studies in Macaulay’s study involved the colloquial view of “cancelling an order” as distinct from breaching a contract.  One business lawyer reported:

Often businessmen do not feel that they have “a contract”—rather they have “an order.”  They speak of “cancelling the order” rather than “breaching our contract.”  When I began practice I referred to order cancellations as breaches of contract, but my clients objected since they do not think of cancellation as wrong.[143]

The rule of expectation damages was alive and well in Wisconsin in 1963, but it was understood among parties that it was not a part of the deal.  “You don’t read legalistic contract clauses at each other if you ever want to do business again,” said one purchasing agent.[144]  These parties had expectations of one another based on previous customs in that business.  This is not “custom” in the sense it is used in contract doctrine—it seems fairly clear that a suit for breach would be at least prima facie valid in the case of an order cancellation.  This is a custom that the parties treat as part of the contract, even though it conflicts with the explicit provisions of the written agreement.

A parallel finding exists from Lisa Bernstein’s study of the diamond industry.[145]  For the purposes of this discussion, her findings can be broken down into two main observations.  First, diamond traders have a set of rules and norms in what is an unusually closed community.[146]  They have expectations of one another based on how members of this community have behaved in the past.[147]  Second, the diamond traders draft and exchange legally unenforceable agreements.[148] Thus, the parties’ expectations of one another in a given transaction are entirely clear, and yet they do not depend on the background law of contracts.  In both the Macaulay example and the Bernstein research, we see contracts that can only be understood with reference to the particular actors and cultural context.

Even if parties do not follow particular community or industry norms, they may have a history with each other that provides a structure for understanding the meaning of the contract.  This concept is not foreign to contract law; the familiar decision from Hobbs v. Massasoit Whip Co.[149] is that the plaintiff may recover when the defendant should have known based on previous dealings that the plaintiff took silence to be a manifestation of assent to the contract.[150]  Even in less extreme cases, proponents of a relational contracting model have cited numerous examples of contracts whose expectations and methods are only discernible in the context of the long-term relationship of the parties involved.[151]

Finally, aside from the particular customs of a community and a contracting dyad, the contract itself can impart information about what the parties expect from one another.  A review of informal norms in contractual relationships can make it sound as though contracts themselves are irrelevant—just pieces of paper passed back and forth as a formality, never read and rarely litigated.  This is of course not the case.  The basic terms of a contractual exchange are usually dictated by the contract itself.  In most cases, parties exchanging widgets for money need not rely on background or informal norms to understand the price or the goods required for performance.  Leaving that aside as a relatively uncontroversial proposition, I focus on other cases in which the written contract shapes the psychological contract.  These are cases in which the terms are (a) known and (b) contrary to the background norm.  By “known,” I mean primarily that the parties have read and understood the terms.  A term that the parties do not suspect exists has no effect on the psychological contract.  Whether a term is “contrary to a background norm” is a slightly fuzzier question, but the gist is that if the parties would otherwise assume a default rule that is different from the actual term, it will be psychologically salient.  In the next Subpart, I look at an example of a common contract term, a liquidated damages clause, to see how the written contract interacts with the background legal and moral norms.

B.     Liquidated Damages Case Study

I have argued here and elsewhere that most people believe that they are bound to perform as promised.  Many people believe that specific performance is the legal remedy for breach of contract, and even when they know the legal rule, they still believe that the moral and social norm is performance.  Legally, of course, the contractual promise is a promise to perform or pay.  But this rule does not seem to affect parties’ behavior—unless it is written into the contract, in the form of a liquidated damages clause.  In an earlier work, I showed study participants a description of a contract and asked them to put themselves in the position of a would-be breacher, someone who faces the choice of whether and when to breach a contract when breach would be more profitable than performance.[152]  Subjects who were told that the background rule was for damages were less likely to breach (for example, they required a greater financial incentive to breach) than subjects who were told that an identical damages provision was written into the contract in the form of a liquidated damages clause.[153]

This result suggests two things about the psychological contract.  First, if the parties know the background law but do not think that it is in line with the informal norms at play, it is not incorporated into the contract.  If knowing the background rule were enough, it would not matter whether it was presented as a background rule or as a stipulation in the contract.  Second, the content of the contract does matter for how parties understand their obligations.  Subjects in that study commented that breach would be less morally problematic in the liquidated damages contract because the other party would not be blindsided.[154]  The possibility of breach was explicitly part of the deal.

This case raises an interesting question of interpretation for contracts scholars looking to behavioral decision research.  Experimental research has been documenting the effect of small sanctions on cooperation for over ten years.[155]  Researchers have shown that the introduction of a penalty for selfishness to a situation in which most people behave generously makes people more likely to behave selfishly.[156]  For example, if Investors institute a small penalty of, for example, $1.50 in a Trust Game for Trustees who do not return generously, more Trustees choose to pay the penalty and keep the rest.[157]  Contracts scholars have naturally pondered the analogy between the Trustee in the Trust Game and a promisor tempted to breach a contract in a case when breach is more profitable than performance.[158]

One possible interpretation of the weak sanction literature for contract is that contract law is just like the Trust Game with a sanction.  For parties who want to be selfish, contract law lays out the rules and essentially makes every contract into an option contract.  On this view, contract law itself nudges individuals to be rational wealth maximizers, and the liquidated damages clause is superfluous.  In fact, real-world contracting is unlike the Trust Game in that its contracts exist in a social and moral context.  Some people may not know the rule of expectation damages, and others may know it but believe that the moral and social rule favors performance.  In either case, the liquidated damages clause updates a party’s information about her obligations under the contract.  In this sense, the liquidated damages clause is a signal within the contract that the default norm (promise keeping, in this case) does not apply.  The parties can use the contract to define not only their particular obligations but also the general expectations and standards that they want to govern their particular relationship.

V.  Applications and Hypotheses

I have claimed that the framework set out above can help provide a general approach for understanding the content of the psychological contract.  In this Part, I use that framework to think systematically about some of the challenges and open questions in the behavioral contracts research.

A.     Sophisticated Actors

One of the most important questions for scholars who discuss informal norms in contracts is whether such norms really apply to the kinds of people who regularly engage in commercial transactions.  Or, more pointedly, what is the psychological contract when neither party is an individual and both parties are represented by counsel?  When scholars talk about sophisticated actors or sophisticated players, they are referring to people with some combination of superior cognitive skills and relevant experience in the arena.[159]  The idea of sophisticated actors is often stretched beyond this to include anyone who appears to have strong wealth-maximizing preferences—commercial actors rather than consumers, and agents rather than principles, for example.[160]  One of the reasons one might dismiss psychological findings in the real-world contracts context is that many contracts are between people who (a) are trying to make money and (b) have done this kind of thing before.  Alan Schwartz and Robert Scott put it this way: “[W]e speculate that individuals in laboratories may perform worse than officers of firms because experimental subjects have not been trained to make good decisions and are not subject to the pressures to maximize . . . .”[161]  For the purposes of my argument, I grant some of the premises of this objection to behavioral research.  It is probably true that the average director of a Fortune 500 company knows more about American contract law than people without comparable experience with contracts (or, at least, is less likely to sign an agreement without advice of counsel), and that he or she is more highly motivated to secure a profit, and maybe even less constrained by squishier moral or emotional approaches to contracting.

That said this does not mean that there is no psychological contract, or that parties can afford to ignore it.  Let us take an example of a hypothetical contract for a big sale of goods from one large company to another.  Under what circumstances might we imagine that their interactions are defined by any informal norms not encapsulated in the contract or the background law?  First, we might think that it is precisely the goal of profit maximization that motivates parties to incorporate social norms into their contracts.  There are reasons to think that parties stand to gain by being generous and relying on reciprocal generosity rather than formal rewards and sanctions.[162]  Among other concerns, contract negotiation is expensive.  Second, moral and social norms may have more bite, even in the business context, than many commentators have been willing to admit.  In mergers and acquisitions,[163] in insurance,[164] in corporate transactions,[165] and even in securities,[166] there is evidence that some owners, directors, merchants, and salespeople value promise keeping.  This means both that sophisticated actors may prefer themselves to keep a promise and that they may punish others perceived to be promise breakers.

Sophisticated actors may also rely on party-specific norms.  Diamond wholesalers and retailers, for example, rely on industry norms.[167]  Macaulay’s Wisconsin businessmen had patterns of interaction with one another, such that each party understood his mutual obligations, but the understanding was quite separate from the written agreement.[168]  This is not so unusual.  The modern case used to illustrate the “battle of the forms” under the Uniform Commercial Code is Step-Saver Data Systems, Inc. v. Wyse Technology,[169] a dispute that is all about parties trading forms back and forth with various conflicting terms, but agreeing among themselves that only some of the terms would be enforceable.[170]  Even when the contract in question is between two corporations, it is worth asking whether industry practices or extracontractual promises are incorporated into the psychological contract.

Of course, commercial actors are not always paired with other commercial actors.  In fact, the vast majority of contracts are contracts between individual consumers and their corporate counterparties.[171]  In these cases, rational-maximizing companies may prefer to exploit every permissible advantage—but they do not, because they fear reputation effects.  If, for example, consumers expect companies to waive certain late fees or penalties when there is a good (but not legally cognizable) excuse, the companies may choose to do so, even though they are not so obligated under the formal contract.  Similarly, a service provider dealing with a homeowner may decide not to breach, even if breach would be efficient and the homeowner could be fully compensated, because the service provider believes that the homeowner would be angry in the event of breach.  In experimental research on moral harm in contract, a number of participants have volunteered that they would be unwilling to breach a contract because of the reputation effects.[172]  For example, one study surveyed law students on their attitudes toward efficient breach, showing them a situation in which the breacher would fully compensate the promisee.[173]  The respondents said that they would need to earn a significant premium over the efficient amount to be willing to breach, and many cited reputation effects.[174]  For example: “I think in all the situations it is economically efficient to breach the contract and give compensation to the party suffering the breach, but I think it is unwise in terms of potentially harming the breacher’s reputation to do so,” or “To the extent that breaking a promise hurts his reputation, it is a bad business decision.”[175]

Sometimes, the question about sophisticated parties is framed in terms of repeat players.[176]  This is a similar idea—both are assumed to have acquired superior skills in one way or another, and thus to be less vulnerable to cognitive biases.  The repeat player concern mainly highlights the importance of reputation.  Thus, on the one hand, we may believe that repeat players learn how to minimize their mistakes, but they may also learn the norms of the interaction such that they are less likely to offend the counterparty and suffer the consequences.

Legal scholars are sometimes skeptical that behavioral-decision research could bear on the kinds of contracts that drive most contract law and policy—sale of goods, construction contracts, and contracts of adhesion.[177]  But this research is about more than heuristic reasoning and cognitive bias.  It also aims to describe how people across a variety of contexts rely on informal norms rather than formal rules to shape their behavior.[178]  Sophisticated actors may not mistake norms for rules, but that does not mean that they do not take informal norms seriously, whether because of their own personal moral commitments, because they believe that informal contracts are efficient contracts, or because they believe that others expect them to conform and will punish them if they do not.

B.     Individuals and Institutional Counterparties

Many people share the intuition that the commonsense moral requirements for contracts obligations shift (down, usually) when we are in a contract with a corporate counterparty.  It is one thing to think that people adhere to shared moral norms when they are dealing with other individuals—counterparties with a name and a face, as it were.[179]  The demands of moral norms may be different, though, with respect to a contract with a company.  Imagine a person who has agreed to rent a cottage for a summer vacation and then finds out that something better and cheaper is available (imagining, for the moment, that for one reason or another damages are unlikely).  We would not be surprised to find that many more people would stick to the original contract if the cottage was owned by, say, the Smith family than if the cottage belonged to the Marriott Hotels corporation.

But what is the difference?  Why do we have this intuition, and when does the identity of the counterparty matter for the psychological contract?  As a preliminary matter, I do not think the difference lies in the legal norms.  There is no obvious reason to believe that individuals are more likely to think that the law expects performance when they are dealing with other individuals than when they are dealing with corporations—and, indeed, if anything, we might think that they believe corporations are more likely to enforce contracts through litigation.

This leaves two other sets of normative expectations that might differ based on the nature of one’s counterparty: the social and moral norms and the particulars of the contract relationship.  I have posited two overarching moral norms associated with contract: promise keeping and fairness.  My suggestion here is that the moral norm of promise keeping has the same basic purchase in most contexts.  For many people, keeping a promise is essentially a personal moral commitment.  Going back on your word is a moral wrong whether the promise was to your grandmother or to your mortgage broker.  However, contracts require not only promises but bargains, and this is where we may see systematic differences between contracts with individuals and contracts with corporations.  Reciprocity matters for contracts generally, of course, and in any contract where one party starts to shirk or act in bad faith, we can expect retaliation.  Even absent actual stinginess, corporations may be perceived as being categorically undeserving of generosity, irrespective of their performance in a particular contract.  First, people think that corporations are generally greedy.[180]  In the current social and economic climate, for example, people explicitly blame corporate free riding for the economic woes of the lower and middle class.[181]  Second, people may think that breaching a contract with a firm does not result in the same level of economic harm as breaching a contract with an individual, insofar as firms are both wealthier and better able to spread the loss across many individuals.  Thus, the social and moral norm of fairness may have systematically different implications for individuals in contracts with large corporations.

In general, contracts with individuals will also have a very different relational feel to them than contracts with big corporations.  Individuals with credit cards, for example, are highly unlikely to have any specialized or informal understandings with their credit card companies in the manner of the Wisconsin businessmen from Macaulay’s studies.  However, corporate contracts may nonetheless convey information about the kind of promissory obligation the firm has in mind.  For instance, when a cell phone contract includes a penalty for early termination, individuals may understand the company to be communicating that this is not a contract based on informal trust norms.[182]  When a mortgage lender sells a homeowner’s loan to a third party, it serves as a signal to the borrower that the loan is an impersonal transaction and not a personal promise.[183]  In sum, there are reasons to predict, based on behavioral findings, that the psychological contract between an individual and a company invokes fewer moral obligations.

Conclusion

The economic and legal foundation of contracts is grounded in expectations.  Parties enter contracts because they expect to be better off.  When contracts fail, damages are measured in terms of the parties’ expectations (limited, of course, by doctrines like avoidability and certainty).  Contracts scholars need a way to approach the question of what the parties expect without devolving into an exercise in individual mindreading.  This Essay presents a framework to describe the makeup of the psychological contract.  This approach pulls together the different strands of scholarship that have taken an empirical approach to contract: the intuitive moral connection between contract and promise, the evidence from experimental economics of strong preferences for equity and reciprocity, and the focus on reputation and personal relationships from relational contracting.  The world of contracts is big and diverse.  The psychological contract construct is a systematic way to assess the social, moral, and practical meaning of promissory obligations.


        *   J.D.; Ph.D., Psychology; Assistant Professor, University of Pennsylvania Law School.  Many thanks to David Hoffman, Stephanos Bibas, and Jean Galbraith for helpful comments on an earlier draft, and to Bonnie White for excellent research assistance.

        [1].   See, e.g., Jody S. Kraus, The Correspondence of Contract and Promise, 109 Colum. L. Rev. 1603, 1604 (2009) (“A natural account of the relationship between contract and promise holds that legal liability in contract enforces a corresponding moral responsibility for a promise.”); Seana Shiffrin, The Divergence of Contract and Promise, 120 Harv. L. Rev. 708, 709 (2007) (“[A]lthough the legal doctrines of contract associate legal obligations with morally binding promises, the contents of the legal obligations and the legal significance of their breach do not correspond to the moral obligations and the moral significance of their breach.”).

        [2].   See Charles Fried, Contract as Promise: A Theory of Contractual Obligation 16 (1981) (“An individual is morally bound to keep his promises because he has intentionally invoked a convention whose function is to give grounds—moral grounds—for another to expect the promised performance.  To renege is to abuse a confidence he was free to invite or not, and which he intentionally did invite.”).

        [3].   E.g., Lewis A. Kornhauser, An Introduction to the Economic Analysis of Contract Remedies, 57 U. Colo. L. Rev. 683, 687 (1986) (“Economic analyses reject the view of contract as promise, and replace it with the idea that contract law ought to promote ‘efficiency.’”).

        [4].   See, e.g., Randy E. Barnett, Contract Scholarship and the Reemergence of Legal Philosophy, 97 Harv. L. Rev. 1223, 1223–24 (1984) (reviewing Allan Farnsworth, Contracts (1982)); Eric A. Posner, Economic Analysis of Contract Law After Three Decades: Success or Failure?, 112 Yale L.J. 829, 832 (2003); Richard A. Posner, Let Us Never Blame a Contract Breaker, 107 Mich. L. Rev. 1349, 1349 (2009).

        [5].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan, Fault in Contracts: A Psychological Approach, in Fault in American Contract Law 298 (Omri Ben-Shahar & Ariel Porat eds., 2010).

        [6].   Zev J. Eigen, When and Why Individuals Obey Contracts: Experimental Evidence of Consent, Compliance, Promise, and Performance, J. Legal Stud. (forthcoming 2012), available at http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract
_id=1640245.

        [7].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan, Transferring Trust: Reciprocity Norms and Assignment of Contract, J. Emp. Legal. Stud. (forthcoming 2012), available athttp://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1984656.

        [8].   Richard R. W. Brooks et al., Framing Contracts: Why Loss Framing Increases Effort (Yale L. & Econ. Research Paper No. 438, at 62, 2012), available athttp://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1990226.

        [9].   See Katherine V.W. Stone, The New Psychological Contract: Implications of the Changing Workplace for Labor and Employment Law, 48 UCLA L. Rev. 519, 553–56 (2001) (explaining that the rise of the “boundaryless career” has resulted in employment contracts that only vaguely define employees’ duties, leaving out many details to be filled in later).

      [10].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan & Jonathan Baron, Moral Judgment and Moral Heuristics in Breach of Contract, 6 J. Empirical Legal Stud. 405, 405–07 (2009) (showing that participants in a series of experiments were sensitive to the moral context of breach of contract).

      [11].   Id. at 420–21.

      [12].   See, e.g., Jennifer Arlen, Comment: The Future of Behavioral Economic Analysis of Law, 51 Vand. L. Rev. 1765, 1768–69 (1998) (arguing that without a theoretical explanation for behavioral results, we need a stronger theoretical link among results and a better-developed sense of the complexity of real decision-making environments).

      [13].   Denise M. Rousseau, Psychological and Implied Contracts in Organizations, 2 Emp. Resp. & Rts. J. 121, 134 (1989).

      [14].   See Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 5 cmts. a–c (1981) (noting that a contract consists of terms upon which both parties agree, contract terms supplied by the law, and contract terms codified by statute).

      [15].   Shiffrin, supra note 1.

      [16].   Stewart Macaulay, Non-Contractual Relations in Business: A Preliminary Study, 28 Am. Soc. Rev. 55, 58 (1963).

      [17].   See Rousseau, supra note 13, at 123 (“Where interactions occur over time, and continued interaction over time is expected, beliefs regarding what parties owe to each other can arise both from overt promises as well as through numerous factors that the parties may take for granted.”).

      [18].   Cristina Bicchieri, The Grammar of Society: The Nature and Dynamics of Social Norms 11 (2006).

      [19].   Rousseau, supra note 13, at 123.

      [20].   Id. at 130.

      [21].   Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 71(2) (1981) (“A performance or return promise is bargained for if it is sought by the promisor in exchange for his promise and is given by the promisee in exchange for that promise.”).

      [22].   Guillermo E. Dabos & Denise M. Rousseau, Mutuality and Reciprocity in the Psychological Contracts of Employees and Employers, 89 J. Applied Psychol.  52, 52 (2004).

      [23].   Id. at 60–62.

      [24].   See id. at 69 (“The bedrock of functional employment relationships are exchanges between workers and employees characterized by mutuality or shared understanding of all parties’ obligations and reliance on their reciprocal commitments.”).

      [25].   Denise M. Rousseau, Schema, Promise & Mutuality: The Building Blocks of the Psychological Contract, 74 J. Occupational & Org. Psychol. 511, 511 (2001).

      [26].   See, e.g., Seymour Epstein, The Self-Concept Revisited, or a Theory of a Theory, 28 Am. Psychologist 404, 409–10 (1973).

      [27].   Susan Fiske & Patricia Linville, What Does the Schema Concept Buy Us?, 6 Personality & Soc. Psychol. Bull. 543, 543 (1980).

      [28].   See id. at 548 (explaining that a schema allows people to “integrate stimuli into a recognizable pattern” by indexing its characteristics).

      [29].   See Sandra L. Robinson & Denise M. Rousseau, Violating the Psychological Contract: Not the Exception but the Norm, 15 J. Org. Behav. 245, 246 (1994) (emphasizing that a psychological contract is formed based on the belief of only one party).

      [30].   Frigaliment Importing Co. v. B.N.S. Int’l Sales Corp., 190 F. Supp. 116, 117 (S.D.N.Y. 1960).

      [31].   Id. at 117.

      [32].   Id. at 121.

      [33].   See Robinson & Rousseau, supra note 29, at 246 (explaining how two psychological contracts can be created simultaneously).

      [34].   See, e.g., Jackie Coyle-Shapiro & Ian Kessler, Consequences of the Psychological Contract for the Employment Relationship: A Large Scale Survey, 37 J. Mgmt. Stud. 903, 907–09 (2000).

      [35].   See, e.g., id. at 903 (reporting the results of a large-scale survey that found that most employees and managers believe that most employees have experienced contract breach); Denise Rousseau & R.J. Anton, Fairness and Implied Contract Obligations in Job Terminations: The Role of Contributions, Promises and Performance, 12 J. Org. Behav. 287, 287 (1991) (using empirical research to demonstrate that judgments about terminating employees are affected by seniority and past commitments of long-term employment).

      [36].   See Richard C. Reuben, Democracy and Dispute Resolution: Systems Design and the New Workplace, 10 Harv. Negot. L. Rev. 11, 17 (2005) (characterizing the “new workplace” as “dynamic” and requiring flexibility and mobility).

      [37].   See id. at 19–24 (delineating some values that characterize the informal relationship between employees and employers).

      [38].   But see id. at 24 (suggesting that dispute resolution should be used to resolve conflicts arising out of uncodified employee expectations as a means of preserving the “new workplace”).

      [39].   Elizabeth Wolfe Morrison & Sandra L. Robinson, When Employees Feel Betrayed: A Model of How Psychological Contract Violation Develops, 22 Acad. Mgmt. Rev. 226, 227, 230–33 (1997) (outlining a model for an employee’s cognitive processes preceding perception of breach of the psychological contract).

      [40].   Robinson & Rousseau, supra note 29, at 245.

      [41].   Id.

      [42].   Sandra L. Robinson, Trust and Breach of the Psychological Contract, 41 Admin. Sci. Q.  574, 574 (1996).

      [43].   Id. at 577.

      [44].   See Cristina Bicchieri & Erte Xiao, Do the Right Thing: But Only if Others Do So, J. Behav. Decisionmaking (forthcoming), available athttp://www.sas.upenn.edu/ppe/documents/DotheRightThing.10.2.08.pdf (defining “normative expectations” as “what we believe others think we ought to do”).

      [45].   Bicchieri, supra note 18, at 11.

      [46].   Id. at 2.

      [47].   Id. at 20.

      [48].   Robert H. Mnookin & Lewis Kornhauser, Bargaining in the Shadow of the Law: The Case of Divorce, 88 Yale L.J. 950, 952 (1979).

      [49].   Id. at 950.

      [50].   Id. at 953–55.

      [51].   See id. at 968–69 (explaining that in divorce proceedings, negotiations are affected by what solution the parties believe the court will impose in the absence of an agreement).

      [52].   Dennis P. Stolle & Andrew J. Slain, Standard Form Contracts and Contract Schemas: A Preliminary Investigation of the Effects of Exculpatory Clauses on Consumers’ Propensity to Sue, 15 Behav. Sci. & L. 83, 91 (1997).

      [53].   See Paul H. Robinson & John M. Darley, Does Criminal Law Deter? A Behavioral Science Investigation, 24 Oxford J. Legal Stud. 173, 176 (2004) (presenting evidence that predictions of a legal rule reflect citizens’ respective moral intuitions).

      [54].   See Mnookin & Kornhauser, supra note 48, at 991–92 (explaining that even in the wake of no-fault regime, divorce proceedings have retained their adversarial nature).

      [55].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan & Jonathan Baron, The Effect of Conflicting Moral and Legal Rules on Bargaining Behavior: The Case of No-Fault Divorce, 37 J. Legal Stud. 315, 317 (2008).

      [56].   There are almost certainly other contract doctrines that people find counterintuitive or misguided, but they are not yet part of the behavioral canon.  I suspect many people believe that contracts must be written and signed, for example.

      [57].   See Stolle & Slain, supra note 52, at 91.

      [58].   Lawrence Cunningham, Popular Misconceptions About Contracts, Concurring Opinions, http://www.concurringopinions.com/archives/2011/07
/popular-misconceptions-about-contracts.html (last visited Sept. 14, 2012).

      [59].   Id.

      [60].   Bailey v. Alabama, 219 U.S. 219, 247 (1911) (Holmes, J., dissenting); Cunningham, supra note 58.

      [61].   Wilkinson-Ryan, supra note 5, at 291–92.

      [62].   Id. at 292–93.  For example, subjects read scenarios about contracts for minor home improvements like painting or floor refinishing.

      [63].   Id. at 298.

      [64].   See id. at 296, 298.

      [65].   See, e.g., Wilkinson-Ryan & Baron, supra note 10, at 414–19 (showing a mean and median preferred damages level above the expectation level in three experimental questionnaire studies).

      [66].   Id. at 405.

      [67].   Id. at 421–22.

      [68].   See, e.g., Paul H. Robinson et al., The Origins of Shared Intuitions of Justice, 60 Vand. L. Rev. 1633, 1653–54 (2007).

      [69].   Fried, supra note 2; see, e.g., Morris R. Cohen, The Basis of Contract, 46 Harv. L. Rev. 553, 578 (1933); E. Allan Farnsworth, The Past of Promise: An Historical Introduction to Contract, 69 Colum. L. Rev. 576, 576, 588–90 (1969); George K. Gardner, An Inquiry into the Principles of the Law of Contracts, 46 Harv. L. Rev. 1, 7–8 (1932).

      [70].   See, e.g., Aditi Bagchi, Separating Contract and Promise, 38 Fla. St. U. L. Rev. 709 (2011); Shiffrin, supra note 1.

      [71].   See Bagchi, supra note 70, at 752 (explaining that commercial promisors often make extralegal representations that are not included in the written expression of their agreements).

      [72].   See, e.g., Gary Charness & Martin Dufwenberg, Promises and Partnership, 74 Econometrica 1579, 1579 (2006) (showing experimental evidence in support of the hypothesis that people strive to live up to others’ expectations in order to avoid feeling guilty); Robyn M. Dawes et al., Behavior, Communication, and Assumptions About Other People’s Behavior in a Commons Dilemma Situation, 35 J. Personality & Soc. Psychol. 1, 3 (1977) (finding that when players announce their intentions to behave generously they are more likely to do so than if they simply get to know one another).

      [73].   Christoph Vanberg, Why Do People Keep Their Promises? An Experimental Test of Two Explanations, 76 Econometrica 1467, 1467 (2008).

      [74].   Id. at 1469.

      [75].   Id.

      [76].   Id. at 1469–71.

      [77].   Id. at 1471.

      [78].   Id. at 1469.

      [79].   Id.

      [80].   Id. at 1471–72.

      [81].   Id. at 1472.

      [82].   Id. at 1473.

      [83].   Wilkinson-Ryan & Baron, supra note 10, at 405 (reporting questionnaire results showing that subjects believed that higher fines should be levied against a breacher than a tortfeasor and that the breacher’s conduct was more immoral).

      [84].   Bailey v. Alabama, 219 U.S. 219, 247–49 (1911) (Holmes, J., dissenting).

      [85].   Wilkinson-Ryan & Baron, supra note 10, at 407–08.

      [86].   Participants’ Comments to Online Study (July 28, 2006) (unpublished comments on file with author) (study available at http://finzi.psych.upenn.edu
/~baron/ex/tess/con3.htm).

      [87].   Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 71 (1981) (“To constitute consideration, a performance or a return promise must be bargained for.”).

      [88].   See, e.g., Wood v. Lucy, Lady Duff Gordon, 118 N.E. 214, 214–15 (N.Y. 1917) (inferring a duty to promote sales where there would otherwise be no consideration).

      [89].   See, e.g., Mutual Life Ins. Co. of New York v. Tailored Woman, 128 N.E.2d 401, 403 (N.Y. 1955) (holding there was no breach where the defendant acted in such a way that did not maximize the plaintiff’s profits, but did so in good faith).

      [90].   Williams v. Walker-Thomas Furniture Co., 350 F.2d 445, 448–50 (D.C. Cir. 1965) (holding a contract invalid where terms were unreasonably favorable for the defendant).

      [91].   See, e.g., Iris Bohnet et al., More Order with Less Law: On Contract Enforcement, Trust, and Crowding, 95 Am. Poli. Sci. Rev. 131, 133 (2001) (using a Trust Game to test the effect of enforcement on contract performance); see also Ernst Fehr et al., Reciprocity as a Contract Enforcement Device: Experimental Evidence, 65 Econometrica 833, 836 (1997) (using a repeated Trust Game to demonstrate the effect of opportunities for reciprocity on worker effort in the employment contract context).

      [92].   Joyce Berg et al., Trust, Reciprocity, and Social History, 10 Games & Econ. Behav. 122, 123 (1995).

      [93].   Id.

      [94].   Id.

      [95].   Id.

      [96].   Id.

      [97].   Id. at 138.

      [98].   Wilkinson-Ryan & Baron, supra note 10, at 421.

      [99].   Id. at 405.

    [100].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan & David A. Hoffman, Breach is for Suckers, 63 Vand. L. Rev. 1003, 1032–33 (2010).

    [101].   See Seth J. Chandler, Visualizing Moral Hazard, 1 Conn. Ins. L.J. 97, 98 (1995) (explaining how monitoring is one way in which contracting parties may ensure compliance under a contract, but arguing that doing so is costly).

    [102].   Bruno S. Frey, Does Monitoring Increase Work Effort? The Rivalry with Trust and Loyalty, 31 Econ. Inquiry 663, 665 (1993).

    [103].   Id.

    [104].   Armin Falk & Michael Kosfeld, The Hidden Costs of Control, 96 Am. Econ. Rev. 1611, 1614 (2006).

    [105].   Id.

    [106].   Id.

    [107].   Id.

    [108].   Id.

    [109].   Id. at 1617.

    [110].   Id. at 1619.

    [111].   Id. at 1621.

    [112].   See id.

    [113].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan, Breaching the Mortgage Contract: The Behavioral Economics of Strategic Default, 64 Vand. L. Rev. 1547, 1549–50 (2011).

    [114].   Id. at 1574.

    [115].   Id. at 1564.

    [116].   Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 205 (1981) (“Every contract imposes upon each party a duty of good faith and fair dealing in its performance and its enforcement.”).

    [117].   Daniel Kahneman et al., Fairness as a Constraint on Profit Seeking: Entitlements in the Market, 76 Am. Econ. Rev. 728, 728 (1986).

    [118].   Id. at 729.

    [119].   Id. at 731.

    [120].   Id. at 729.

    [121].   Id. at 733.

    [122].   Id.

    [123].   Id.

    [124].   Oliver Hart & John Moore, Contracts as Reference Points, 123 Q.J. Econ. 1, 1 (2008).

    [125].   Id. at 2.

    [126].   Id.

    [127].   Ernst Fehr et al., Contracts as Reference Points: Experimental Evidence, 101 Am. Econ. Rev. 493, 493 (2011).

    [128].   Id. at 497.

    [129].   Id. at 498.

    [130].   Id. at 499.

    [131].   Id.

    [132].   Id.

    [133].   Id.

    [134].   Id.

    [135].   Id.  at 507.

    [136].   Id.

    [137].   Wikinson-Ryan & Hoffman, supra note 100, at 1041–43.

    [138].   Kahneman et al., supra note 117, at 729.

    [139].   Id. at 731.

    [140].   Stewart Macaulay, Non-Contractual Relations in Business: A Preliminary Study, 28 Am. Soc. Rev. 55, 55 (1963).

    [141].   Id. at 58.

    [142].   Id. at 61.

    [143].   Id.

    [144].   Id.

    [145].   Lisa Bernstein, Opting Out of the Legal System: Extralegal Contractual Relationships in the Diamond Industry, 21 J. Legal. Stud. 115, 115 (1992).

    [146].   Id. at 119–21.

    [147].   Id. at 121–22.

    [148].   Id. at 121–23.

    [149].   Hobbs v. Massasoit Whip Co., 33 N.E. 495 (Mass. 1893).

    [150].   Id. at 495.

    [151].   See, e.g., Franklin G. Snyder, More Pieces of the CEO Compensation Puzzle, 28 Del. J. Corp. L. 129, 149 (2003) (explaining that relational contract theory has produced the “truism” that parties who contract with one another long term interact with one another differently than parties who do not).

    [152].   Tess Wilkinson-Ryan, Do Liquidated Damages Encourage Breach? A Psychological Experiment, 108 Mich. L. Rev. 633, 657 (2010).

    [153].   Id. at 659.

    [154].   Id. at 669.

    [155].   See, e.g., Uri Gneezy & Aldo Rustichini, A Fine Is a Price, J. Legal Stud. 1, 3 (2000) (presenting the now-famous Israeli daycare study, including evidence that parents asked to pay a fine when they were late to pick up children from daycare were actually more likely to be late than parents not formally penalized).

    [156].   See Ernst Fehr & Bettina Rockenbach, Detrimental Effects of Sanctions on Human Altruism, 422 Nature 137, 137 (2003) (showing evidence of lower levels of altruistic behavior when sanctions were available to punish selfishness).

    [157].   Id. at 137–38.

    [158].   Id. at 140.

    [159].   See, e.g., Bernstein, supra note 145.

    [160].   See, e.g., Andrew A. Schwartz, Consumer Contract Exchanges and the Problem of Adhesion, 28 Yale J. on Reg. 313, 331 (2011) (distinguishing between consumers and the special position of sophisticated parties whose wealth allows them to dominate contractual relationships).

    [161].   Alan Schwartz & Robert E. Scott, Contract Theory and the Limits of Contract Law, 113 Yale L.J. 541, 551–52 n.18 (2003).

    [162].   See, e.g., Bohnet et al., supra note 91 (using a Trust Game to test the effect of enforcement on contract performance).

    [163].   See, e.g., Benjamin Grossman, Another View: Rethinking Reverse Break-Up Fees, N.Y. Times (Aug. 11, 2009, 10:30 AM), http://dealbook.nytimes.com
/2009/08/11/another-view-rethinking-reverse-break-up-fees/ (arguing that reverse break-up fees reduce the stigma that acquirers face if they back out of a deal).

    [164].   See, e.g., Tom Baker, Constructing the Insurance Relationship: Sales Stories, Claims Stories, and Insurance Contract Damages, 72 Tex. L. Rev. 1395, 1426 (1993) (“The real promise of the insurance relationship is not ‘if X happens, we’ll pay Y dollars’, but rather ‘we’ll be there for you,’ keeping your life or business together when disaster strikes.”).

    [165].   See, e.g., Melvin A. Eisenberg, Corporate Law and Social Norms, 99 Colum. L. Rev. 1253, 1271 (1999) (arguing that corporate law is sensitive to moral and social norms including trustworthiness and loyalty).

    [166].   See Eric Talley, Disclosure Norms, 149 U. Pa. L. Rev.  1955, 1959 (2001) (observing that informal norms of honesty can augment federal securities law).

    [167].   See discussion supra Part IV.A.

    [168].   See discussion supra Part IV.A.

    [169].   Step-Saver Data Sys., Inc. v. Wyse Tech., 939 F.2d 91 (3d Cir. 1991).

    [170].   Id. at       96–98.

    [171].   W. David Slawson, Standard Form Contracts and Democratic Control of Lawmaking Power, 84 Harv. L. Rev. 529, 529–30 (1971) (observing that standard form contracts account for more than ninety-nine percent of all contracts entered into).

    [172].   Wilkinson-Ryan & Baron, supra note 10, at 423.

    [173].   Online Survey (Sept. 5, 2008) (unpublished comments on file with author) (full survey available at http://finzi.psych.upenn.edu/~baron/ex
/tess/con12l.htm).

    [174].   Id.

    [175].   Id.

    [176].   See, e.g., Sarah R. Cole & Kristen M. Blankley, Empirical Research on Consumer Arbitration: What the Data Reveals, 113 Penn St. L. Rev. 1051, 1057 (2009) (describing the “repeat player effect,” in which sophisticated companies obtain favorable outcomes in a significant proportion of arbitration disputes against consumers).

    [177].   See Wilkinson-Ryan, supra note 152, at 634–35.

    [178].   Id. at 635.

    [179].   See generally, e.g., Joshua Knobe & Jesse Prinz, Intuitions About Consciousness: Experimental Studies, 7 Phenomenology & Cognitive Sci. 67 (2008) (comparing human counterparties to corporate counterparties).

    [180].   John Mackey, Whole Foods, Conscious Capitalism para.1 (2007) available at http://www.wholeplanetfoundation.org/files/uploaded/John_Mackey
-Conscious_Capitalism.pdf (“Instead corporations are widely perceived as greedy, selfish, exploitative, and uncaring – and interested only in maximizing profits.”).

    [181].   See, e.g., Editorial, The Corporate Free Ride, N.Y. Times, Aug. 18, 2008, at A18 (referring to the “fundamental unfairness” of the American corporate tax system).

    [182].   See Wilkinson-Ryan, supra note 152, at 650.

    [183].   Wilkinson-Ryan, supra note 113, at 1573–74.

 Wilkinson-Ryan_LawReview_1.13

 

By: Andrew L. Berrier*

Licensed Application End User License Agreement

The Products transacted through the Service are licensed, not sold, to You for use only under the terms of this license, unless a Product is accompanied by a separate license agreement, in which case the terms of that separate license agreement will govern, subject to Your prior acceptance of that separate license agreement. The licensor (“Application Provider”) reserves all rights not expressly granted to You. The Product that is subject to this license is referred to in this license as the ‘Licensed Application.’

a. Scope of License: This license granted to You for the Licensed Application by Application Provider is limited to a non-transferable license to use . . . .[1]

Introduction

This is not likely to be the first time you have read an agreement such as the one above.  Given the sheer number of software applications and other digital content that many people interact with on a daily basis, an average person may be a party to an untold number of these sorts of agreements for items he uses every day.  A growing shift toward digitally transmitted content, such as eBooks, MP3s, software, and digital movies, has caused a shift in how consumers view their purchases—when a person downloads something from the Internet, is it no different from buying an analogous good from a brick-and-mortar store?  What then is to be made of the pop-up legal forms consumers often hastily agree to in order to access their new software?

For over a century, the body of copyright law called the first sale doctrine has worked to strike a balance between the rights granted to a copyright owner and the purchaser of copyrighted goods.  According to the doctrine, a copyright owner’s exclusive right to control distribution of a copy of a work ends with that copy’s first lawful sale or transfer.[2]  After the first sale, the new owner of the copy is generally free to sell or transfer the copy as he sees fit.[3]  Given the important balance it strikes, the first sale doctrine has been regarded with vital importance and has helped build legal foundations for institutions ranging from local second-hand bookstores to eBay.[4]  Today this venerable legal doctrine stands at an uncertain crossroads—the body of law is clear and well established with respect to tangible works, yet the new digital economy has thrown many of the past definitions of the first sale doctrine in flux.  As such, there exists legal uncertainty as evidenced by cases like Vernor v. Autodesk, Inc.[5] that attempt to clarify a growing legal problem—how should we treat our digital goods?

This Note analyzes the impact of the Ninth Circuit’s recent decision in Vernor and argues that while Vernor could hold many pitfalls for consumer protection in today’s market, as more sales move from transfers of tangible copies to models of digital distribution, decisions like Vernor could help foreshadow a new body of law for a new type of sale.  Part I provides historical background for the first sale doctrine and addresses some of the current market realities straining the idea of first sale.  Part II analyzes the factual landscape of Vernor and examines the rationale of the Ninth Circuit in crafting its groundbreaking three-factor Vernor test.  Finally, Part III discusses the different impacts the Vernor decision could have, the parties which might be most affected by different interpretations of Vernor, and what the future could and should hold for this decision’s impact on a century-old body of law.

I.  Background

To understand recent changes to the first sale doctrine, it is useful to gain some perspective on the history of this legal theory.  The first sale doctrine was initially laid out in the 1908 Supreme Court decision Bobbs-Merrill Co. v. Straus.[6]  In Bobbs-Merrill, the Court considered the scope of how far a copyright holder’s rights may extend.[7]  Specifically at issue was whether copyright law permits an owner to exert control over a purchaser’s resale of a copyrighted work, or if the rights of a copyright holder to control distribution were limited to the initial sale.[8]

A.            Bobbs-Merrill Co. v. Straus: First Sale By the Book

In Bobbs-Merrill, the plaintiff publisher sought to affect the resale market of its books by including the following phrase on the inside cover of every new book it sold: “The price of this book at retail is $1 net.  No dealer is licensed to sell it at a less price, and a sale at a less price will be treated as an infringement of the copyright.”[9]  Subsequently, the defendant sold plaintiff’s books for less than $1, and the plaintiff sued for copyright infringement based on the copyright holder’s exclusive right to vend.[10]

The plaintiff’s main theory was that the phrase inside the book’s cover controlled the resale of the book, creating a license with the purchaser—a right allowed within a copyright holder’s right to vend or otherwise sell its product as it sees fit.[11]  Discarding this argument, the Supreme Court held that the plaintiff’s note did not constitute a license agreement and that any exclusive right of an original copyright holder to vend extends only to the initial sale.[12]  In making its conclusions, the Court held that “copyright statutes, while protecting the owner of the copyright in his right to multiply and sell his production, do not create the right to impose, by notice, such as is disclosed in this case, a limitation at which the book shall be sold at retail by future purchasers . . . .”[13]  As such, the statutory right to sell did not also create a similar right to limit resale—the right to vend was limited to the first sale of the good.  This early explanation of the first sale doctrine would be codified one year later in the Copyright Act of 1909.[14]

Since the passage of the 1909 Copyright Act,[15] the first sale doctrine has undergone a notable degree of evolution.  The 1976 Copyright Act expanded the first sale doctrine to include not only any purchaser of a good, but also granted any “owner” of a lawfully made copy of a good the right “without the authority of the copyright owner, to sell or otherwise dispose of the possession of that copy. . . .”[16]  The 1976 statute also made clear that this doctrine does not apply when possession is a result of rental or loan, unless the copyright owner authorizes otherwise.[17]  Taken together, sections 109(a) and 109(d) of the 1976 Copyright Act outline that the determining factor applicable to the use of the first sale doctrine is whether the recipient has rightful ownership of a copy of the good.

However, while the 1976 revision clarifies that possession should arise from rightful ownership, and not from rental or loan, the first sale doctrine applies not only to the ability of the new owner to make subsequent sales of the copy, but also to the ability of that owner to subsequently lend the copy to others, such as with libraries or video rental companies.[18]  As noted in the 1976 Act’s legislative history, “[a] library that has acquired ownership of a copy is entitled to lend it under any conditions it chooses to impose,” similar to how a legitimate owner may choose to sell under any conditions it chooses to impose.[19]  Nevertheless, while the first sale doctrine limits the distribution right guaranteed to copyright owners, it does not limit the other guaranteed rights of a copyright holder over reproduction, public display, public performance, and the creation of derivative works.[20]

Finally, an ultimate concern remains with the first sale doctrine—defining what goods actually fall within the doctrine’s scope.  As the first sale doctrine deals with the selling or other disposing of a copy, it is vital to define what is and is not a copy under the Act.  Under the 1976 statute, copies are defined as:

[M]aterial objects, other than phonorecords, in which a work is fixed by any method now known or later developed, and from which the work can be perceived, reproduced, or otherwise communicated, either directly or with the aid of a machine or device. The term “copies” includes the material object, other than a phonorecord, in which the work is first fixed.[21]

As such, the entire statutory framework underpinning the first sale doctrine has generally worked well where copies are fixed in a material object such as a printed book, DVD, or CD, but this framework becomes muddled when the works are digitally transmitted, such as an e-book download, streaming online video, or MP3 purchase.[22]  This is largely because of the legal uncertainty as to whether the first sale doctrine applies to transactions that lack a material copy changing hands, or even sometimes, as Vernor makes an issue of, when a copy is an intangible object fixed in a tangible medium changing hands.

B.            Modern Sales

The last decade has seen exponential growth in digital content delivery.  Advances in file storage and broadband technology have met with copyright owners’ entrepreneurial efforts to generate new streams of revenue to satisfy consumer demand for convenience and choice.[23]  Digital-delivery business models that may have seemed outrageous only a few years ago have now become dominant players in their respective fields.  As a notable example, Apple’s iTunes music store has already surpassed ten billion song downloads in its eight-year history—in many ways supplanting traditional brick-and-mortar music stores—and iTunes’ software “app” sales have reached the 10 billion download mark in only two years.[24]

Without clear direction as to whether the first sale doctrine applies to digitally transmitted works, and because of the doctrine’s inapplicability where there is no transfer of ownership, copyright owners have increasingly stopped selling digital works outright. Instead, copyright owners have begun to offer digital works to consumers through a licensor/licensee relationship in order to impose restrictions on future use and transferability.[25]  Such attempts by copyright owners are seen most notably in the formation of End User License Agreements (“EULAs”), which generally create “clickwrap” agreements where a user must agree to any and all terms proposed by the copyright owner in order to use the purchased product.[26]  In many cases, the copyright owner attempts to retain full control over distribution rights by crafting an EULA that explicitly states the consumer is a licensee who has no ownership interest in the purchased copy of the work.[27]  Thus, while a book may be purchased outright and owned by a consumer, in the eyes of copyright holders a digital copy of the very same book is not owned but merely licensed to the consumer.

In some situations, this licensor/licensee relationship in digital media allows copyright owners to retain powers that far exceed ordinary restrictions on future use by deleting outright the consumer’s copy of the work when circumstances warrant.[28]  One of the most notorious examples of such an extension of a copyright holder’s powers occurred in 2009 when Amazon remotely deleted digital copies of the George Orwell novels 1984 and Animal Farm from Kindle users’ e-book devices after Amazon learned it could not offer digital copies of these works.[29]  In doing so, Amazon acted entirely in accordance with its terms of use in effect at the time and chose to take the extreme step of deleting every copy possessed by paying customers to avoid litigation with Orwell’s publisher.[30]

II.  The Case

As a result of the ambiguity between technological innovation and gaps in a century-old body of law, it is unclear what to make of the licensing practices of copyright owners who appear to use contract law to circumvent the first sale doctrine.  Given such ambiguity in the law, consumers are left frustrated.  With little recourse but to accept clickwrap agreements from copyright holders, consumers are moved to accept restrictive agreements without grasping the full implication of such action.  These uncertain waters are explored in the recent Ninth Circuit decision Vernor v. Autodesk, Inc.[31]

Adding to this complexity stands the fact that Vernor involved material copies of software fixed in CD-ROMs and not content distributed digitally.[32]  Despite this, the Ninth Circuit held that extensive EULA restrictions contractually imposed on the use of a material copy of software trump the first sale doctrine.[33]  In effect, the decision in Vernor breaks from century-long jurisprudence dating back to Bobbs-Merrill upholding the applicability of the first sale doctrine to the transfer of a material copy of a work, including past first sale cases involving software.[34]  Accordingly, Vernor extends the exploitable ambiguity of whether the first sale doctrine applies to digital copies back to material copies, merely because the copy in question is software on a CD-ROM.

A.            A Tangled Factual Web

Autodesk Incorporated is the creator of the computer-aided design software, AutoCAD, which assists architects, engineers, and manufacturers in drafting plans and schematics for various projects.[35]  As early as 1986, Autodesk began selling its AutoCAD software with a limited “software license agreement” (“SLA”) between Autodesk and the end user—an EULA.[36]  The version of Autodesk’s AutoCAD software at issue in Vernor is Release 14, a program that was put on the market in 1997.[37]  Autodesk holds registered copyrights for all versions of the software it produces, including Release 14.[38]  Customers are required to accept Autodesk’s SLA before they are permitted to use the program, or may choose not to accept the SLA and return the software for a full refund.[39]  Within the SLA are separate terms and conditions for different types of users, depending on the product a consumer has purchased.[40]

Autodesk’s SLA is, in many ways, ordinary to most software sales, in that it reserves the majority of rights to the copyright holder.[41]  Specifically, the SLA for Release 14 states that Autodesk retains title to all copies and that the customer has a nonexclusive and nontransferable license to use Release 14, creating the typical licensor/licensee relationship between vendor and consumer.[42]  Within the SLA are a number of transfer restrictions, prohibiting customers from renting, leasing, or transferring the software without Autodesk’s prior consent.[43]  Additionally, the SLA imposes geographic transfer restrictions on consumers, including an explicit prohibition on transferring the software outside of the Western Hemisphere.[44]  Finally, Autodesk’s SLA imposes significant limitations on how its product may be used by the consumer.[45]

Beyond merely stating all the rights reserved to Autodesk in the SLA, Autodesk also worked to preserve these rights by taking measures to actively enforce these SLA agreements.[46]  Autodesk works to ensure every copy of its software is legitimate, including assigning unique serial numbers to each product and requiring the customer to input “activation codes” within a month of installation to continue using the software.[47]  An activation code is only issued to a consumer after Autodesk authenticates the product’s unique serial number.[48]

In March 1999, Autodesk and Cardwell/Thomas & Associates, Inc. (“CTA”) came to a settlement regarding CTA’s unauthorized use of Autodesk’s Release 14 software.[49]  Autodesk had licensed ten copies of Release 14 to CTA, and CTA had agreed to the terms of the SLA packaged with the software.[50]  Shortly after this agreement, CTA upgraded from Autodesk’s Release 14 program to Autodesk’s AutoCAD 2000 program, and should have subsequently destroyed the copies of Release 14 as instructed by the SLA.[51]  Instead, CTA sold four copies of Release 14 and their activation codes to plaintiff Timothy Vernor.[52]

Timothy Vernor ran an eBay store where he resold a number of different products to consumers online, and after purchasing the four copies of Release 14 from CTA, Vernor listed the software for sale on eBay.[53]  Vernor was aware of the existence of the SLA, but, importantly, he never installed the software or agreed to the SLA’s terms.[54]  When Autodesk became aware of Vernor’s actions Autodesk issued a Digital Millennium Copyright Act (“DMCA”) take-down notice[55] to eBay claiming copyright infringement.[56]  In response Vernor filed a counter-notice challenging the validity of Autodesk’s claim.[57]  Finally, Vernor brought an action against Autodesk to establish that his resale of the Release 14 software did not infringe on Autodesk’s copyright, requesting that the court rule that his actions were noninfringing due to the first sale doctrine.[58]

Upon hearing Vernor’s claim the district court granted summary judgment in favor of Vernor, declaring that Autodesk’s copyright was not infringed.[59]  In making its ruling, the district court determined Vernor’s acquisition of the Release 14 software to be a transfer of possession rather than a license; therefore, the first sale doctrine applied and Vernor was not liable for copyright infringement.[60]  In its rationale, the district court used United States v. Wise,[61] a Ninth Circuit case which dealt with the transfer of movie prints pursuant to distribution agreements.  In Vernor’s case, the district court held that simply labeling something a license was not determinative because Wise dictated that all of the circumstances of the transaction must be analyzed.[62]  In viewing all the circumstances, the key fact appeared to be that Vernor did not pay recurring fees for the use of the software, but rather made a one-time payment for the software itself, which implied a right of perpetual possession favoring the finding of a sale instead of a license.[63]  Autodesk subsequently appealed this decision to the Ninth Circuit.[64]

B.            Vernor in the Ninth Circuit

On appeal, the Ninth Circuit took a markedly different approach—both to the district court’s decision and to the majority of precedent outlaying the century-old first sale doctrine.  Downplaying the district court’s focus on Vernor’s one-time payment for the software, the Ninth Circuit vacated and remanded, holding that the high level of specificity in Autodesk’s SLA license restrictions made Vernor a licensee rather than an owner of the software copies, despite a transaction of a tangible copy from producer to consumer that at first glance might appear to be a sale.[65]

1. Considerations of Wise and the MAI Trio, and a New Three-Factor Test

In order to determine whether a software consumer is an owner or a licensee, the court reviewed past Ninth Circuit decisions and created a new three-factor test, which it applied in Vernor.[66]  The Vernor court concluded that precedent from Wise asked a factfinder to consider “all of the provisions” of an agreement to determine if a consumer is an owner or licensee of a software copy.[67]  The court came to a markedly different conclusion than Wise, however, as to what provisions may do in such a licensing agreement and what weight to give to each.[68]

In addition to a discussion of Wise, the Ninth Circuit looked at three of its prior cases that also addressed issues of ownership or licensing of software, the “MAI trio.”  The MAI trio consists of MAI Systems Corp. v. Peak Computer, Inc.,[69] Triad Systems Corp. v. Southeastern Express Co.,[70] and Wall Data, Inc. v. Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.[71]  Each case involved the “essential step defense” codified in 17 U.S.C. § 117(a)(1), which requires a similar analysis to first sale doctrine cases because both defenses require the possessor to own the copy of the work rather than license it.[72]

As in its analysis of Wise, the Vernor court observed that the MAI trio also evaluated all of the provisions of the agreements in order to determine ownership versus licensee status.[73]  Thus, the Vernor court set out to create a rule that might similarly take a holistic view to the language and intention of EULAs.  Following this, the Vernor court developed the three-factor test to determine whether a software user is a licensee instead of an owner, and therefore, whether the user was entitled to invoke the first sale doctrine.[74]  Under this test, a court first considers whether the copyright owner specifies that a user is granted a license.[75]  Second, the court evaluates whether the copyright owner significantly restricts the user’s ability to transfer the software.[76]  Lastly, the court determines whether the copyright owner imposes notable use restrictions.[77]

2. The Ninth Circuit’s Application of the Three-Factor Test

Having promulgated this new three-factor test, the Ninth Circuit then applied the factors to the case at hand.  Regarding the first factor, whether the copyright owner specified that the user was granted a license, the court found that Autodesk’s SLA specifically reserved title to the copies of the software and sought to grant a license to the purchaser.[78]  Regarding the second factor, whether the copyright owner has significantly restricted the user’s ability to transfer the software, the court found that Autodesk imposed significant transfer restrictions, including the inability to transfer the software out of the Western Hemisphere.[79]  Turning to the third factor, whether the copyright owner imposed notable use restrictions, the court concluded that the license imposed significant use restrictions, including restrictions against modifying, translating, or reverse engineering the software.[80]  Therefore, the Ninth Circuit concluded that CTA was a licensee and not the owner of the copy of Release 14.[81]  In effect, because Autodesk had written its SLA in a manner that specifically reserved title to the copies of the software and imposed substantial transfer and use restrictions, Autodesk’s customers—including Vernor as a secondhand purchaser of a copy who only sought to turn around and sell it—were licensees limited by Autodesk’s terms.[82]  Accordingly, because the SLA prohibited the sale of Release 14 from the original licensee, CTA, to Vernor, the sale was invalid.[83]  Thus, Vernor and Vernor’s customers were not owners of their copies of the software, the first sale doctrine did not apply, and Vernor had no right to resell the software.[84]

3. A Potential Split in Krause v. Titleserv, Inc.

In crafting its Vernor opinion, the Ninth Circuit addressed a possible split with Krause v. Titleserv, Inc.[85]  Also dealing with computer software, the Second Circuit in Krause inquired into whether the defendant Titleserv exercised “sufficient incidents of ownership over a copy of a program to be sensibly considered the owner of the copy” even if there was no licensing agreement between the producer Krause and user Titleserv.[86]  In looking for “sufficient incidents,” the Second Circuit noted that the following indicia could together make the defendant the owner of the copy of the program: (1) the consideration paid by Titleserv to develop the programs, (2) that the consideration was for the benefit of Krause only, (3) that the software was customized to serve Titleserv’s operations, (4) that the copies were stored on a server owned by Titleserv, (5) that Krause never reserved the right to repossess the copies used by Titleserv, and (6) that Krause agreed that Titleserv had the right to continue to possess and use the programs forever.[87]  The Second Circuit concluded that Titleserv owned the copies of the computer program because all of the six possible factors favored Titleserv.[88]  The Ninth Circuit distinguished Vernor on the grounds that the parties in Krause did not have a written license agreement like the one between Autodesk and its consumers.[89]  The court reasoned that because there was no explicit EULA on which to make a determination, the Second Circuit had no choice but to evaluate such a collection of factors.[90]

4. The Ninth Circuit’s Conclusions

After making its observations and promulgating its test in Vernor, the Ninth Circuit remanded the matter for further proceedings.[91]  In coming to its findings, the Vernor court was not entirely ignorant of the possible ramifications of this decision, acknowledging the policy considerations and potential impact this decision may have on the distribution of works.[92]  As a century-old body of law, the first sale doctrine had worked to balance the rights of copyright holders and consumers, and the Vernor decision stood to radically reshape this landscape if interpreted to specific ends.[93]  Given this, the Ninth Circuit was mindful that strict judicial enforcement of EULAs—which often are contracts of adhesion—could eliminate the software resale market.[94]  Moreover, when crafting the three-factor test, the court was aware that its opinion left open the window that the licensor/licensee practices of software companies could be adopted by other copyright owners such as book publishers, record labels, and movie studios.[95]  In the end, while the Ninth Circuit was mindful of these implications, the court ultimately decided to leave the policy considerations to be clarified by the legislature.[96]

III.  Analysis

Following the Ninth Circuit’s decision in Vernor, some groups may have very legitimate concerns about the application of the first sale doctrine to their industries.  If the Vernor decision stands, consumer advocates fear copyright holders will have greater incentive to expand license-based content delivery and limit the rights of those who pay for such goods.[97]  To wit, under a reading of Vernor, all a copyright holder must do to retain almost total rights to its work would be an inclusion of “magic words” making clear that the copy’s distribution is a license and not a sale and accompany this lease with notable use and transfer restrictions.  Because Vernor’s three-factor test to determine whether the first sale doctrine applies sets such a low threshold for copyright holders, consumer advocates worry the Vernor test may be the death knell of the first sale doctrine.  Such a low license threshold coupled with restrictive limitations can understandably cause worry for a varied group of end users, but are these concerns valid?  Currently, there are a number of different groups beyond software producers and consumers who are intently watching the change that Vernor may bring.

A.            Worried Parties: Libraries, eBay, and Netflix

Perhaps the most notable group affected by this possible erosion of the first sale doctrine are libraries.  Since the inception of the first sale doctrine, libraries have relied on the freedoms the doctrine provides as the basis by which they lend books, magazines, CDs, movies, and other copyrighted material.[98]  As such, restriction-heavy licenses could limit the ability of libraries to freely lend works and give copyright holders the ultimate power to control the flow of knowledge.[99]

In the commercial realm, the change Vernor might bring could drastically affect resale sectors where companies like eBay have flourished by facilitating the buying and selling of secondhand goods, many of which are copyrighted works.[100]  As the resale market can engender a very lucrative business such as eBay’s, it is likely that copyright owners would be more willing to implement restrictions on resale in a commercial context rather than with libraries because of the opportunity for copyright holders to build additional revenue streams.  Resale companies fear that with Vernor, copyright holders could retain ownership rights and restrict any third party sales that would not benefit the original owner—effectively shutting down any unapproved resale markets.

Combining some of a library’s lending efforts and a reseller’s commercial concerns, the home video market has is worried that Vernor may allow copyright holders to restrict its business.  Because home video businesses, such as Netflix, Redbox, and even Blockbuster, rely on the first sale doctrine to purchase copies of movies from distributors and then rent them to customers.  If distributors are able to contractually restrict what consumers do with their copies of movies, copyright holders would effectively be able to dictate the terms by which video rental companies operate their businesses.  In the most dire of projections, copyright holders could outright monopolize the home video market, reserving all use and transfer rights for themselves.

Despite these concerns, it is still uncertain whether the effects of wide-scale restrictive licensing will be realized.[101]  In fact, some feel that it is possible a business model could emerge that would support the resale of digitally transmitted works that might appease many, if not all, of the current interested parties.[102]  However, whether or not any of these scenarios occur does not change the questions that remain about the viability of the doctrine for digitally transmitted works.  Despite the legal support the Vernor decision gives to expand the use of licensing agreements in a number of different transactions, copyright owners will have to weigh those possible advantages against practical and financial considerations.

B.            Vernor and Computer Software

Given the facts of Vernor, the most apparent group affected by its new holding appears to be the producers and consumers of computer software.  Following Vernor, software consumers have generally had one of two reactions.  There are groups who feel Vernor is the death knell of ownership of software and all other property.[103]  Opponents of the Vernor decision argue that now, by simply adding “magic words” into any licensing agreement, software developers can retain permanent ownership of their product and effectively stop any and all resale.[104]  Alternatively, there are groups who feel that the Ninth Circuit’s ruling correctly aligns with new trends of software ownership.[105]  As with most polar discussions in the law, it is likely that neither group is absolutely correct in its predictions of the legal ramifications of Vernor.  Nevertheless, it is undeniable that Vernor could have a very marked impact on the software community, whatever it may be.  Ultimately, the greatest change might not come through Vernor and the law, but in the changes inherent in a shift to greater digital distribution of software.

1. Traditional Software

At first glance, the immediate ramifications of the Vernor three-factor test could indeed serve as the death knell feared by consumer advocates.  As seen in numerous existing EULAs, it is not difficult to create a contract between a software seller and the consumer that purports to give the consumer a license only.[106]  After understanding the explicit steps needed to satisfy the Vernor test, software developers could very well include these “magic words” in their licensing agreements to reserve numerous rights and ultimately prevent resale of their software.[107]

Software producers may wish to prevent resale of their goods for many reasons.  The primary reason is that producers do not receive compensation when works are resold to other consumers.[108]  By limiting the software resale market, producers could encourage more new purchases of software, and therefore reap greater profits.  As mentioned before, resale companies like eBay currently make a large portion of their business from resale and distribution of software, and a restrictive license could handily give software producers control over this market.[109]  Without the protections of the first sale doctrine, Vernor could very well allow copyright holders to draft licenses that only give consumers the right to use the copy and not the right to resell software either individually or through retailers like eBay.  In effect, the most likely result of Vernor is that the decision could give copyright holders the power to eliminate the market for used software.

2. Cloud Computing

Given the traditional means of distributing software, the worries of consumer advocates hold some very real and immediate validity.  Nevertheless, the effects of Vernor on the first sale doctrine may be relatively short-lived—either through a legal reversal of the doctrine, or, perhaps even more profoundly, through a shift in the use and distribution of software itself.  As software and other digital media distribution changes from tangible CDs and DVDs to entirely digital transactions facilitated by broadband internet access, “cloud computing” might make the Vernor doctrine turn from a consumer nightmare to a reasonable path in a changing marketplace.

Currently the idea of cloud computing has a number of different forms and definitions, but the form that is particularly relevant to how Vernor may affect the future of software is the concept of Software-as-a-Service (“SaaS”).[110]  In SaaS, software programs are accessed by a consumer via the Internet, while the physical software remains stored remotely on a server.[111]  To access these programs, a software company provides a user the ability to use the software through a website or other interface located on a PC, smartphone, or other internet-capable device.[112]  In an SaaS model, the software user does not own or possess the program on his home computer, but instead pays for access to use the program on demand.  Some observers feel that SaaS is the inevitable future of software distribution.[113]  Currently, the major barriers to growth of SaaS are consumer access limits to internet bandwith, but as broadband accessibility continues to grow, so too could greater use of SaaS and other methods of cloud computing.[114]  SaaS is already being used by companies such as Google, Microsoft, and Netflix.[115]

Given the rise of cloud computing methods such as SaaS, it is likely that in the near future an even more significant proportion of software and other digital content will not be owned, or even possessed, by the user.  Since users will no longer own a copy of the software, neither the Vernor test nor the Krause test would fully be able to handle such situations—yet tests such as Vernor’s would serve as a very useful bridge between the old first sale model and a new model fit for the cloud.  In this manner, cases such as Vernor would guide the evolution of software license agreements into software use agreements that govern the conditions under which the user can remotely access cloud-based software.

C.            Raising the Vernor Standard

As a practical matter, it would not be difficult for a copyright owner to pass the current Vernor test.  Meeting the standards set by Vernor would be as straightforward as being mindful of the three-part test while drafting an EULA and ensuring that the copyright owner grants a license to a potential user.  Given the ease with which these types of agreements can be created and implemented, both in software and beyond, the addition of another factor to help heighten the Vernor standard should be implemented both to better interpret the intent of a copyright holder and to better protect consumers.  Given how much power is now given to these licensing agreements, courts should factor in how rigorously copyright holders enforce their EULAs and ensure that the licensing rights granted to users are not being violated.  In effect, if these “magic words” are to be given so much weight and reserve so much power to copyright holders, those same copyright holders must not be able to sleep on their rights only to later try to enforce every aspect of a restrictive license.

In Vernor, the Ninth Circuit found Autodesk took significant measures to enforce license agreements.[116]  Autodesk assigned serial numbers to each copy of AutoCAD and kept track of registered licensees.[117]  Using the serial numbers, Autodesk assigned unique activation codes to customers, which were necessary for the customer to use the software.[118]  For a customer to receive an activation code, Autodesk checked “that the serial number is authentic, that the copy is not registered to a different customer, and that the product has not been upgraded” for each request.[119]  In effect, Autodesk’s enforcement scheme resulted in a seemingly effective way to monitor the distributed licenses and showed to the Ninth Circuit that Autodesk was sincere about restricting the use of its software and retaining ownership.  Likewise, other copyright holders should also be required to make a similar showing.  In addition to stating the presence of a license and restricting use and transferability, copyright owners should be required to set up a sufficiently rigorous enforcement scheme to show they are serious about enforcing the stated rights in a licensing agreement.

In requiring copyright owners to set up a sufficient enforcement scheme, courts would effectively give the Vernor standard a much-needed boost in fairness.  Inquiring into the efforts a copyright owner takes to enforce his or her rights before a lawsuit would prevent copyright owners from relying purely on the frequently empty “magic words” of a licensing agreement to enforce their rights later in court.  In these EULAs, where the terms are all prepared by one party and the other party has the option to take it or leave it, there is no effective negotiation where a consumer may attempt to protect any of his or her rights in the product.  Therefore, most EULAs are contracts of adhesion that can deeply disfavor a consumer.[120]  In traditional contract theory, a party would have the option to seek out competing parties in order to obtain a better bargaining position, but nearly all software vendors provide similar types of contracts with their products.[121]  Without the freedom to bargain for more equitable terms, the customer is at a severe disadvantage and is left only to accept the unfavorable agreement.  In part, this severe disadvantage of boilerplate licensing agreements may be a reason so many consumers do not take these EULAs seriously, an entirely different and pressing problem in this field.

Given the leverage that copyright holders have in these contracts, and the additional support such agreements are given under Vernor, courts should consider inquiring into how strongly copyright owners enforce their license agreements as a way to counterbalance this leverage.  By requiring copyright owners to actively make efforts to enforce the terms of their licenses, courts limit the dangerous breadth of power than an overly-restrictive license might afford.  If copyright owners want to keep tight control over their property, they would no longer be required merely to say they want such power—instead, they must diligently make efforts to ensure their desired limitations are being kept beyond the paper such rights are written on.  While this does not remove the leverage advantage copyright holders may have in software EULAs, it does limit what rights copyright holders might want to retain, as they would now be tasked with actually making independent efforts to manage their rights before entering a courtroom.

In addition to its useful application to the Vernor test, requiring copyright owners to set up an effective enforcement framework would easily transfer into cloud computing applications.  Because much of the licensing language can easily evolve into a cloud-based use scheme, having cloud content providers actively manage their rights would be no different than software vendors under a modified Vernor test.  Like Autodesk and other future software vendors, cloud content providers would have to make efforts to manage their property and keep their rights enforced before seeking legal redress for an alleged violation.

Conclusion

Attempting to radically change a century-old body of law such as the first sale doctrine is not likely to come easily—nor should it.  Nevertheless, unless some changes are made, the tensions between copyright owners and consumers are likely to grow as copyright owners continue to push the limits of restrictive access to content via licensing frameworks.

The Vernor decision and its subsequent test will have immediate short-term effects on licensing agreements and the first sale doctrine.  If left unchecked, consumers may suffer a severe disadvantage as additional rights are withheld in restrictive licensing agreements.  Nevertheless, these feared effects could be mitigated naturally with an evolution toward cloud computing and other forms of digital content distribution that enable software developers and other copyright holders to keep possession of their works entirely.  In the future, it is likely that software consumers will no longer own physical copies of the content they access on their computers but will have the ability to use remote content governed by use agreements.  For better or worse, decisions like Vernor may paint an early picture of a new legal doctrine.

Given the potential foreshadowing of Vernor, ensuring that the balance set by the first sale doctrine persists means that every new change in the law should come with growing scrutiny toward where the doctrine is heading.  Vernor does not signal the last first sale, but it does issue a new charge for consumer advocates to make sure the longstanding rights of resale and distribution are not lost in a digital era.  In viewing the Vernor decision, courts should consider inquiring into the methods that the copyright owner used to enforce its agreements and licenses—to do so will help ensure the balance between producer and consumer that has evolved through the past century remains for years to come.


[1]. Licensed Application End User License Agreement, Apple, http://www.apple.com/legal/itunes/appstore/dev/stdeula (last visited Oct. 3 2011).

[2]. See Adam W. Sikich, Buyer Beware: The Threat to the First Sale Doctrine in the Digital Age, 14 J. Internet L. 1, 19 (2011).

[3]. See id.

[4]. Id.

[5]. 621 F.3d 1102 (9th Cir. 2010).

[6]. 210 U.S. 339 (1908).

[7]. Id. at 349–50.

[8]. Id. at 350.

[9]. Id. at 341.

[10]. Id. at 342.

[11]. Id.

[12]. Id. at 350.

[13]. Id.

[14]. See, e.g., Robert H. Rotstein, Emily F. Evitt, & Matthew Williams, The First Sale Doctrine in the Digital Age, 22 Intell. Prop. & Tech. L.J. 23, 24 (2010).

[15]. Copyright Act of 1909, Pub. L. No. 60-349, 35 Stat. 1075 (1909).

[16]. 17 U.S.C. § 109(a) (2006).

[17]. Id. (prohibiting “rental, lease, loan, or otherwise, without acquiring ownership”).

[18]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[19]. H.R. Rep. No. 94-1476, § 109, at 79 (1976), reprinted in 1976 U.S.C.C.A.N. 5659, 5693.

[20]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[21]. 17 U.S.C. § 101 (2006).

[22]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[23]. Id.

[24]. Josh Sunshine, App Store Beats iTunes to 10 Billion Downloads by 6 Years, Gigaom (Jan. 14, 2011, 10:30 AM), http://gigaom.com/apple/app-store
-beats-itunes-to-10-billion-downloads-by-6-years.

[25]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[26]. See, e.g., Rebecca K. Lively, Microsoft Windows Vista: The Beginning or the End of End-User License Agreements As We Know Them?, 39 St. Mary’s L.J. 339, 370 n.14 (2007).

[27]. See, e.g., Apple, supra note 1 (“The Products transacted through the Service are licensed, not sold, to You for use only under the terms of this license.”) (emphasis added); Amazon Kindle: License Agreement and Terms of Use, Amazon, http://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html/ref=hp
_left_sib?ie=UTF8&nodeId=200506200 (last visited Sept. 30, 2011) (“Unless specifically indicated otherwise, you may not sell, rent, lease, distribute, broadcast, sublicense, or otherwise assign any rights to the Digital Content or any portion of it to any third party . . . .”).

[28]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[29]. See David Pogue, Some E-Books Are More Equal Than Others, N.Y. Times (July 17, 2009, 12:57 PM), http:// pogue.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/17
/some-e-books-are-more-equal-than-others.

[30]. Sikich, supra note 2.

[31]. 621 F.3d 1102 (9th Cir. 2010).

[32]. Id. at 1104.

[33]. Id. at 1116.

[34]. See, e.g., Krause v. Titleserv, Inc., 402 F.3d 119 (2d Cir. 2005) (holding that defendant was the owner of software program because defendant paid substantial consideration for development of the software, software resided on defendant’s computers, and plaintiff allowed defendant to permanently use the software); DSC Commc’ns Corp. v. Pulse Commc’ns, Inc., 170 F.3d 1354, 1360 (Fed. Cir. 1999) (“[A] party who purchases copies of software from the copyright owner can hold a license under a copyright while still being an ‘owner’ of a copy of the copyrighted software . . . .”); Softman Prod. Co. v. Adobe Sys. Inc., 171 F. Supp. 2d 1075, 1086 (C.D. Cal 2001) (“[A] single payment for a perpetual transfer of possession is, in reality, a sale of personal property and therefore transfers ownership of that property, the copy of the software.”).

[35]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1104.

[36]. Id.

[37]. Harrison Eiteljorg II, AutoCAD Release 14 – A Review, CSA Newsletter, Vol. X, No. 3, (Winter 1998), available at http://csanet.org
/newsletter/winter98/nlw9802.html.

[38]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1104.

[39]. Id.

[40]. See id.

[41]. See id.

[42]. Id.

[43]. Id.

[44]. Id.

[45]. Id.

[46]. Id.

[47]. Id.

[48]. Id. at 1104–05.

[49]. Id. at 1105.

[50]. Id.

[51]. Id.

[52]. Id.

[53]. In his course of business, Timothy Vernor has since sold over ten thousand items on eBay.  See id.

[54]. Id.

[55]. See 17 U.S.C. § 512(c) (2006).  “The take-down provision of Section 512 permits copyright owners to notify [Online Service Providers (“OSP”)] . . . that an infringing work is available on the copyright owner’s Web site. Upon receipt of a complaint notice, the OSP must ‘respond expeditiously’ and remove, or disable access to, the infringing material.”  Greg Jansen, Whose Burden is it Anyway? Addressing the Needs of Content Owners in DMCA Safe Harbors, 62 Fed. Comm. L.J. 153, 163 (2010) (footnotes omitted) (discussing the definition of a DMCA takedown notice).

[56]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1105.

[57]. Id.

[58]. Id. at 1106.

[59]. Id.; Vernor v. Autodesk, Inc., 555 F. Supp. 2d 1164, 1170–71, 1175 (W.D. Wash. 2008).

[60]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1106.

[61]. 550 F.2d 1180 (9th Cir. 1977).

[62]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1109.

[63]. Id. at 1106.

[64]. Id.

[65]. Id. at 1116.

[66]. Id. at 1108.

[67]. Id. at 1109.

[68]. See id. at 1111–12.

[69]. 991 F.2d 511 (9th Cir. 1993).

[70]. 64 F.3d 1330 (9th Cir. 1995).

[71]. 447 F.3d 769 (9th Cir. 2006).

[72]. See 17 U.S.C. § 117(a)(1) (2006).

[73]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1110–11.

[74]. Id. at 1111.

[75]. Id.

[76]. Id.

[77]. Id.

[78]. Id.

[79]. Id.

[80]. Id. at 1111–12.

[81]. Id. at 1112.

[82]. Id.

[83]. Id.

[84]. Id.

[85]. Id. at 1114; Krause v. Titleserv, Inc., 402 F.3d 119 (2d Cir. 2004).

[86]. Krause, 402 F.3d at 124.

[87]. Id.

[88]. Id. at 124–25.

[89]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1114.

[90]. Id.

[91]. Id. at 1116.

[92]. See id. at 1114–15.

[93]. See id. at 1115.

[94]. See id.

[95]. See id. at 1114–15.

[96]. Id. at 1115 (“Congress is free, of course, to modify the first sale doctrine and the essential step defense if it deems these or other policy considerations to require a different approach.”).

[97]. Sikich, supra note 2, at 21.

[98]. Id.

[99]. Vernor, 621 F.3d at 1115; see also, Brief of Amici Curiae, American Library Association et al., id. at 7–9.

[100]. eBay touts that in 2010 the total worth of goods sold on eBay was $62 billion.  Who We Are, eBay, http://www.ebayinc.com/who (last visited Sept. 30, 2011).

[101]. Sikich, supra note 2, at 22.

[102]. Id.

[103]. See Corynne McSherry, You Bought It, But You Don’t Own It, Electronic Frontier Found. (July 15, 2008), http://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2008
/07/you-bought-it-you-dont-own-it.

[104]. See id.

[105]. See Larry Downes, The End of Software Ownership—And Why to Smile, Cnet News (Sept. 20, 2010, 4:00 AM), http://news.cnet.com/8301-1001_3
-20016864-92.html.

[106]. For example, see the Apple, supra note 1; Amazon, supra note 27.

[107]. See McSherry, supra note 103.

[108]. See Nate Anderson, “Can I Resell My MP3s?”: The Post Sale Life of Digital Goods, Ars Technica (Dec. 17, 2008, 11:05 PM), http:// arstechnica.com
/tech-policy/news/2008/12/post-sale-life.ars.

[109]. See supra Part III.A.

[110]. See Cody Gillians, Is This Mine or Yours? The Effect of the Rulings in Vernor v. Autodesk and the Library of Congress on the Determination of Who Owns Software Copies, 12 N.C. J.L. & Tech. 205, 225 (2010).

[111]. Id.

[112]. See id. (describing different ways SaaS may be used).

[113]. See Downes, supra note 105.

[114]. See Gillians, supra note 110, at 226.

[115]. See id.

[116]. Vernor v. Autodesk, Inc., 621 F.3d 1102, 1104 (2011).

[117]. Id.

[118]. Id.

[119]. Id. at 1105.

[120]. See id. at 1115.

[121]. See Pratik A. Shah, The Uniform Computer Information Transactions Act, 15 Berkeley Tech. L.J. 85, 93 (2000) (“[G]iven the bargaining power of most licensors over licensees in the mass-market shrinkwrap context, where adhesion contracts are the norm, this apparent efficiency could come at the licensee’s expense.”).

* J.D. Candidate, May 2012, Wake Forest University School of Law.  The author thanks his wife Meghan for her ongoing patience and support.

Article in PDF Form

By: Scott J. Burnham

A society could enforce all promises.  I recall a student from a South Pacific island who said that was the way of her society.  She was appalled by my casual references to dirty promise breakers, convinced that they really were the scum of the earth.[1] On the other hand, a society could enforce few promises or require a great many hoops to be jumped through in order to make them enforceable.  We could, for example, create a government agency without whose imprimatur a contract would not be enforceable.[2]

It is hard to imagine one party taking another to court and claiming, “This agreement is not enforceable—he didn’t say ‘mazel u’broche,’ your honor!”

Part of the maturation process in children as they grow into adults is recognition of the different levels of promising.  The three-year-old lives in a world in which all promises are enforceable and will whine at the top of his voice, “but you promised,” as though that alone were enough to ensure enforceability.  A few years later, kids have wised up to the point that they know you have to say “cross my heart and hope to die” to really mean it, but they also know you can deny enforceability by crossing fingers behind the back while uttering the words of commitment.[3]

In most societies, the contracting process falls between those two extremes.  One of the jobs that contract law must perform in any society is to draw the line between “just talk” and “serious talk.”  As Professor Nancy Kim ably points out, that line is drawn in different places and in different ways by different societies.[4]

Many societies use an exchange of bodily fluids to seal the deal.  Kim uses the example of the promise written in blood in Kim v. Son, but, significantly, that was a promise rather than a bargained-for exchange.[5] That one-sided promise can be contrasted with the blood oath, exemplified by a scene in the movieMongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan, in which Genghis and his childhood friend cut their palms with a knife and then shook hands, the intermingling of their blood connoting a serious deal indeed.[6] In the HBO series Deadwood, which I took to be a parable about the creation of civilization out of chaos, the making of a contract was a civilizing act.[7]A serious deal in the Dakota Territory was indicated in not quite as dramatic a fashion as in Mongolia.  There, the parties spit into their palms and then shook hands.[8] I suppose the ultimate exchange is found in the marriage contract, which is initially sealed with a kiss (“you may now kiss the bride”), but then must be consummated in another fashion to forestall avoidance.

In a pluralistic society, we recognize disparate forms of contract-making.  As self-governing societies, Indian tribes are free to apply their customs and usages ahead of applicable federal and state law.  For example, the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Reservation in Montana make clear that tribal customs and usages have preeminent importance.  Their codified laws provide:

Laws applicable in civil actions. (1) In all civil actions, the Tribal Court shall first apply the applicable laws, Ordinances, customs and usages of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes and then shall apply applicable laws of the United States and authorized regulations of the Department of the Interior.  Where doubt arises as to customs and usages of the Tribes, the Tribal Court may request the advice of the appropriate committee which is recognized in the community as being familiar with such customs and usages.  Any matter not covered by Ordinances, customs and usages of the Tribes or by applicable federal laws and regulations may be decided by the Court according to the laws of the State of Montana.[9]

As another example, Lisa Bernstein took us behind the scenes of the diamond business in New York City, a setting in which a serious deal is indicated by a handshake and the utterance of the Yiddish phrase, mazel u’broche (luck and blessing)—the exchange of abstract words now standing in for the bodily fluids.[10]

Nevertheless, I am not as sure as Kim is that we should recognize these forms of contract making in our state and federal court systems.  Our larger society has for centuries groped toward a standard for the enforceability of contracts that would lend predictability to commercial transactions.  It is hard to imagine one party taking another to court and claiming, “This agreement is not enforceable—he didn’t say ‘mazel u’broche,’ your honor!”  This would never happen, of course, because in the New York diamond society, the parties do not take each other to the public courts, but resolve their disputes in a private forum.[11] And in private, the decision maker is free to recognize diverse manners and mores.

Most societies—and most significantly commercial society—recognize that when both parties have affixed their signatures to a document, either physically or electronically, a contract is formed—even in a transnational agreement.[12] This ritual has become the norm, and its widespread recognition minimizes disputes.  The disputes will continue to arise in the outlier cases, where the parties have indicated their agreement according to some other norm.

While it may be desirable for the larger society to have a uniform standard for contract formation, there is no such standard for contract performance.  Farnsworth makes a useful distinction between “contract law” and “the law of the contract.”[13] The former represents the social norms by which our legal system determines what makes an agreement enforceable, and what defenses are good against it.[14] The latter represents the private ordering of performances under the agreement.[15] There the parties are free to dictate terms, subject of course to the police power of the state to supervise them.

I think the case of In re Marriage of Witten[16] falls into the performance category, for there is no question that the parties followed the U.S. norm during the formation process.[17] Even if the parties violated public policy in the process, they nevertheless reached an agreement, and the court takes upon itself the job of finding appropriate terms to replace the unenforceable ones.  This is a tough case, and Kim exhibits sensitivity to the differences in the intentions of the parties.  The search for the parties’ subjective intent might be helpful to the Witten plaintiff ex post, but I fear that if we get there by torturing contract law, the result may be less helpful to others ex ante.  Do we want to favor one party because that party provided more consideration, a contractual oxymoron if there ever was one?  The fact that one party assumed a greater burden is more relevant in reliance analysis, when we need to measure the extent of the reliance.  But even there the reliance must be reasonable, and it does not seem reasonable for a party to expect her intended use of the goods to govern when she expressly agreed that unenumerated uses were subject to mutual agreement.  And when addressing contractual gaps, do we really want courts to fill them with the terms the particular parties would have agreed to, as opposed to those that are reasonable?  While the former approach has some appeal, the latter will prevent the dominant party in a contract of adhesion from obtaining unduly favorable terms.[18]

Just as the socialization process makes us aware of how to make a deal binding in our own society, we also become aware that the rules may differ in other societies.  A number of years ago, when I was a Fulbright Specialist in Uruguay, we Fulbrighters were invited to meet with the U.S. Consul.  After he droned on for a while, he asked if we had any questions, and someone asked what a consul does.  He responded that he was often called in when U.S. citizens were entangled in the foreign legal system.  “Americans don’t carry the Constitution abroad with them,” he gravely intoned.  “I do,” I responded, whipping out the pocket Constitution I was using in the class I was teaching there.  In spite of my wise-guy remark, he had a point: Americans may have an expectation that U.S. law applies when they are abroad, but the more reasonable expectation is that when you are in Rome, the law of Rome applies.

We are all members of different societies for different purposes.  I am now an American, now of Anglo-American descent, now a law professor, now a commercial lawyer, now a teacher abroad, now a poker player.[19] I make agreements in all of these societies.  For purposes of entering into an agreement that I expect to be enforced in the U.S. courts, I should recognize that I am in American society, subject to the objective standards of U.S. contract law.  One of the bounties of that law is that I can use my freedom of contract to make an agreement within a smaller society, but I recognize that when I seek enforcement of that agreement, I must look to that smaller society rather than to the courts of the larger society.


[1]. A good example of a society that takes its contracts seriously is the Ferengi, the merchant class of the universe in the television series Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  In the episode Body Parts, after a doctor tells a Ferengi named Quark he is going to die shortly, Quark sells his desiccated remains on the Ferengi Futures Exchange.  He then learns that the doctor was mistaken, but the purchasing party insists on specific performance—his right under Ferengi law.  Quark ultimately decides to breach the contract and, as a consequence, is banished from Ferengi society.  Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Body Parts (CBS television broadcast June 10, 1996).

[2]. Perhaps we could appoint Elizabeth Warren to head it up.

[3]. I invite an anthropologist to explain to me why those particular words and that particular gesture are considered effective to facilitate and prevent formation, respectively.

[4]. See generally Nancy S. Kim, Reasonable Expectations in Sociocultural Context, 45 Wake Forest L. Rev. 641 (2010).

[5]. See id. at 652–60 (discussing blood contracts in the context of Kim v. Son, No. G039818, 2009 WL 597232 (Cal. Ct. App. Mar. 9, 2009)).

[6]. Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan (Picturehouse 2007).

[7]. Deadwood (HBO television broadcast Mar. 21, 2004–Aug. 27, 2006).

[8]. Id.

[9]. Laws of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, Codified § 4-1-104 (2003), available at http://www.cskt.org/documents/laws-codified.pdf.

[10]. Lisa Bernstein, Opting Out of the Legal System: Extralegal Contractual Relations in the Diamond Industry, 21 J. Legal Stud. 115, 121–22 (1992).

[11]. Id. at 124–30.

[12]. Farnsworth astutely observes that when two parties sign an agreement, the first to sign is making the offer and the second is making the acceptance.  See E. Allan Farnsworth, Contracts § 3.5, at 113 (4th ed. 2004) (“Traditional analysis, in terms of an offer followed by acceptance, may adequately describe the agreement process in simple transactions in which, for example, one party presents a printed form for the other to sign or both exchange letters or facsimiles.”).  The plot of the Deadwood episode Full Faith and Credit turned on this convention.  Deadwood: Full Faith and Credit (HBO television broadcast July 2, 2006).  Hustetler, an Irish-American stable owner, left town abruptly, and Steve, an African-American, took care of the animals in the stable, entitling him to a claim for restitution, but Hustetler could not reach a settlement with him.  The sheriff worked out a deal for Steve to buy the stable, with the nascent bank—another civilizing influence—providing a secured loan.  All parties agreed to this, but Hustetler refused to sign first, for that would mean he was making an offer to his perceived inferior; he would, however, accept Steve’s offer by signing second.  Steve unfortunately saw it the same way.  Frustrated, the sheriff took the problem to Sol, the hardware-store owner, the only Jew in town, who represented the merchant class.  With Solomonic wisdom, Sol proposed a solution: there would be two copies of the agreement, and at an appointed hour, when the sheriff fired his pistol in the air, each party would sign his copy at a separate location.  Id. Thus does contract law bring its civilizing power to the world, preventing the outbreak of what Corbin called “private war.”  11 Joseph M. Perillo, Corbin on Contracts § 55.8, at 30 (rev. ed. 2005).

[13]. Farnsworth, supra note 11, § 7.1, at 413.

[14]. See id.

[15]. See id. at 414.

[16]. In re Marriage of Witten, 672 N.W.2d 768, 772 (Iowa 2003).

[17]. For Kim’s view on In re Witten, see Kim, supra note 4, at 660–68.

[18]. Farnsworth, supra note 9, § 7.16, at 486.

[19]. A good example of enforcement of a contract in poker society came up in the 2005 World Series of Poker (“WSOP”).  A participant named Barry Paskin, in hopes of bringing out his animal-like traits, had refrained from bathing or changing his clothes for a week, eliciting demands from his tablemates that he be banished.  As he was removed from the room, Paskin screamed, “Show me a rule that says you can’t smell bad!”  See Rule Changes at the WSOP: Take a Shower—and Be on Time, Coinflip.com (Apr. 12, 2010, 7:07 p.m.), http://www.coinflip.com/news/rule-changes-wsop-take-shower-and-be-time.html.

I can oblige him.  Rule 1 of the Poker Tournament Directors Association Rules approaches the matter with a broad sweep, evoking the Common Law of Poker: “Floor people are to consider the best interest of the game and fairness as the top priority in the decision-making process.  Unusual circumstances can on occasion dictate that decisions in the interest of fairness take priority over the technical rules.” Rules, Poker Tournament Directors Ass’n, http://www.pokertda.com/rules.pdf (last visited Mar. 7, 2011).

The WSOP unfortunately goes to the opposite extreme, trying to legislate for every possible situation.  Section IV, Player Conduct and Tournament Integrity, Rule 37B now provides in part:

All participants are entitled to expect civility and courtesy from one another at every Tournament table and throughout the Tournament area.  Any individual who encounters behavior that is not civil or courteous—or is abusive in any way—is encouraged to immediately contact a Tournament official.  This shall include, but is not limited to, any player whose personal hygiene has become disruptive to the other players seated at their table.  The determination as to whether an individual’s personal hygiene is disruptive to other players shall be determined by the Tournament Staff which may, in its discretion, implement sanctions upon any such player who refuses to remedy the situation in a manner satisfactory to Rio.

2010 World Series of Poker Official Tournament Rules, World Series of Poker, http://www.wsop.com/pdfs/2010/2010-WSOP-Rules.pdf (last visited Mar. 7, 2011).