Introduction
One of the prevailing accounts of the federal judiciary’s efforts to achieve change through rights enforcement might be summed up in a word: dependence.
When it comes to judicial efforts across the twentieth century to expand Equal Protection Clause protections to eradicate segregation and race-based discrimination, extend the Eighth Amendment to improve prison conditions, or introduce new criminal procedural rights to make the criminal legal system fairer, the judiciary is reliant on the political branches of government. Absent circumstances beyond the judiciary’s control, it cannot order its way to its desired ends. Because political actors rarely voluntarily comply, schools remain segregated in practice, prison conditions improve only marginally, and our criminal legal system stays unfair—or worse.
This Essay complicates aspects of that account by focusing on one of the judiciary’s earliest sustained attempts at rights enforcement—the Sixth Amendment right to counsel. The right to counsel is the centerpiece of many of the most compelling critiques of judicial rights enforcement, because of the stark gap between right and reality.
It is a paradigmatic positive right.
In criminal cases, the Supreme Court explained in Gideon v. Wainwright,“lawyers . . . are necessities, not luxuries.”
As the Indiana Supreme Court asked, however, in one of the first decisions to consider the “defense of the poor”: “[W]ho shall pay?”
The conventional view is that the obligation is the state’s, typically in the form of legislative appropriations. But the state inevitably falls short; legislatures almost universally do not fund indigent defense at anywhere near the levels necessary to secure adequate representation for indigent defendants.
The result, as Professor William Stuntz famously put it, is that “the broad structure of constitutional regulation of criminal justice has it backward, that courts have been not too activist, but activist in the wrong places.”
That’s not how enforcement of the right to counsel began. The Sixth Amendment’s version of the right to counsel as we currently understand it did not exist at the Founding;
nor, for that matter, did it come to life with Gideon’s lofty language in 1963.
The modern instantiation of the right dates to 1938, with Justice Hugo Black’s majority opinion in Johnson v. Zerbst.
Johnson, which read the Sixth Amendment as providing a right to counsel for all defendants in federal court, required nothing of either political branch of the federal government.
Its directives were instead to the federal district courts to use their longstanding inherent powers
to guarantee that otherwise unrepresented defendants under “the protection of a trial court” knew they had the right to a lawyer and to appoint lawyers for those who wanted representation.
The failure to do so, Johnson concluded, represented the “failure to complete the court—as the Sixth Amendment requires—by providing counsel,” such that the district court would lack jurisdiction over the proceedings and be subject to subsequent habeas review.
Johnson’s unfunded counsel mandate lasted for more than two and a half decades, until Congress passed the Criminal Justice Act of 1964 (CJA), which began to provide the structure and funding necessary to compensate lawyers appointed to represent federal criminal defendants.
Until then, the judiciary enforced and implemented the right by itself.
This Essay recovers how the judiciary fared based on original archival sources
from judges and judicial actors, like the Administrative Office and the Judicial Conference.
During what this Essay labels the inter-right period, the time between Johnson’s establishment of a formal version of a right to counsel and funding for that right, the federal judiciary engaged in a judiciary-wide project to secure a version of the right to counsel in courtrooms across the country. Supreme Court and lower court decisions affixed some meaning to the right to counsel.
The judiciary exercised new administrative powers to promulgate rules governing the treatment of poor defendants,
to study the issue, and, ultimately, to lobby Congress to appropriate funds.
Most importantly, district court judges used their inherent authority to appoint thousands of lawyers to represent poor defendants across the country, usually without offering those lawyers either a choice or compensation.
Supplying these lawyers forced federal judges to innovate with new appointment systems—from simple lists or panels of available attorneys to more formalized programs—and to require the participation of a wide cross section of the bar.
There is extensive literature on the doctrinal origins and evolution of the right to counsel,
the design of indigent defense services,
and the endemic state failure adequately to fund those services.
And yet, likely because federal criminal cases today make up only a fraction of overall criminal cases,
and perhaps because federal defense services are relatively well funded,
there is no account of the role federal judges played in enforcing the unfunded right to counsel in their own courtrooms.
By supplying this account, this Essay yields three contributions related to the judiciary’s power and interest in enforcing the right to counsel. First, it clarifies the institutional components of the right to counsel. Supreme Court decisions like Powell v. Alabama,
Johnson, and Gideon sound in the high ideals of individual rights leveling an adversarial process in which lay defendants are pitted against professional prosecutors.
But, from the outset, the right to counsel federal judges worked to secure was both a resource for the judiciary, in the form of a more lawyerly criminal process, and a costly service to supply, because judges themselves had to impose on the lawyers before them to provide representation. As much as right to counsel doctrine or judicial ideology, the costs and benefits to the judiciary of the new right limited the scope of its unfunded version.
Second, the judiciary’s actions during this period demonstrate how the judiciary created resources for the right to counsel. The judiciary received more than it paid for in the form of the free lawyers it conscripted
: Judicial appointments of lawyers and efforts to develop new appointment systems raised the amount of defense litigation resources available to poor defendants, at least to an extent.
At the same time, the fragile equilibrium judges created to secure these elevated, but unpaid, services generated interest alignment between judges, lawyers, and poor defendants over indigent defense funding, helping to build the groundwork for the ultimate enactment of the CJA.
Third, reconstructing the right across early judicial decisions, through the rules the judiciary created and into the nascent administrative efforts and appointment systems judges developed, captures an institutional dynamism not typically attributed to the federal judiciary. Before the civil rights injunction accustomed the judiciary to enforcing constitutional rights by ordering and, sometimes, restructuring other actors,
judges flexed and shifted their own institution to provide counsel. They did so not as “activists”
but rather as administrators attempting to secure adequate hearings in their own courtrooms.
The right to counsel the judiciary enforced without funding was not a better version of the right than the one congressional funding affords today. Most defendants likely received very limited representation.
But the judiciary’s efforts to implement this version of the right deepen our analytic account of the judiciary’s power and position when it comes to certain instances of rights enforcement and, more broadly, to judicial efforts to effectuate change. To reframe Stuntz, the inter-right period shows how federal courts have been and can be active in some of the right places within the current structure of our system of criminal procedure.
To be sure, establishing the right to counsel in federal courts involved a less “dramatic stand[]” than other instances of rights enforcement.
Rather than reforming institutions beyond the courthouse, like schools, prisons, or police stations, the judiciary’s efforts were trained inwards.
There were no federalism concerns, like those that trailed concurrent efforts to rein in state criminal adjudications by incorporating the Bill of Rights.
The judicial goal was more modest: to put its own house in order.
Still, in enforcing and implementing the unfunded version of the right to counsel in its own courtrooms, and ultimately helping to secure the funded version, the judiciary engaged in a significant effort at judicial statecraft.
The federal judiciary helped to transform the process of criminal adjudication in federal court by making criminal cases more legible to judges and to the federal courts more broadly. Versions of this form of court-building might today offer additional ways for the judiciary to strengthen indigent defense services, at a time when funding continues to be precarious, and the judiciary confronts a variety of institutional challenges.
The Essay proceeds as follows. Part I describes the account of the dependent judiciary. Parts II and III chart the inter-right rules and the systems of enforcement and assess their effects. Part IV situates the means and ends of the judiciary’s project within the broader landscape of judicial institution building and considers ways in which the judiciary might continue to work “to complete the court.”
A note: An institutional account like this tends to exclude any sustained analysis of the stories of the people who came before the federal courts, the defendants and habeas petitioners who were new and tenuous rightsholders. It misses the “carton[s] of cigarettes” that, as Judge Rufus Foster of the Fifth Circuit complained at a meeting of the Judicial Conference in 1937, were the sole costs an incarcerated individual needed to pay for the legal advice from a fellow incarcerated individual to file a habeas petition that would yield “a day out of the walls.”
Of course, in the hands of individuals who believed they’d been unfairly treated, those cartons of cigarettes also brought about the constitutional doctrine at issue during this period. That, in fact, seems to have been the genesis of a habeas petition that Foster himself wrote the Fifth Circuit panel opinion denying only a few months after the Judicial Conference meeting. The case was named Johnson v. Zerbst.