Geoffrey notes that law faculty write all sorts of things, though he doesn't mention books or, to appease those who consider Tax Management portfolios something other than books, monographs. But his explanation on this point makes sense. Writing, particularly so-called scholarly writing, but often other legal writing, is rewarded. Deans approve research assistance for writing projects. Merit compensation committees take writing into account, though the pecuniary reward is far more symbolic than economically powerful. Writing brings attention to the author's law school, which affects rankings, and which accordingly makes deans happy. It is always good to have a happy dean.
So, asks Geoffrey, why do some law faculty choose not to write? He concludes that they are not lazy, and that the non-writers tend to contribute disproportionately more time and effort to committee work, other university service, additional classes, and even CLE program participation. Geoffrey explains why the usually reasons that are provided by non-writers don't justify the lack of writing:
1. I have nothing to say that would re-invent my field.Though Geoffrey makes good arguments - read his posting - I'm not unsympathetic to the claims of the non-writers. Law reviews are saturated with articles exploring all sorts of things, even issues of little practical use. Outside of the academy, most law review articles get little attention, as even judges are ignoring them in increasing numbers. There are all sorts of valid criticisms that can be leveled against student-edited law journals, particularly by those of us who write in time-sensitive areas where the usual student lag in getting things published turns great articles into yesterday's headline. And surely there are good teachers, and great teachers, who just aren't writers.
2. No one will read it anyway.
3. I object to student-edited law reviews.
4. I get more satisfaction out of service and teaching.
I'm going to focus on the second and third reasons. After all, if someone isn't a writer, or as once was said to me, "some people just HAVE to write and those are the people we want to hire," then that person isn't a writer. Writing something without having the desire to write is a recipe for a bland, weak, and sad work product. It is so true that great writing rests on the enthusiasm and energy that flows from that need to write, that desire to express one's ideas. I'm not convinced that everything that could be said has been said, else I'd be quite quiet, and so I'm in agreement with Geoffrey that it isn't a very strong justification.
For those who want to be read and who want to avoid the pitfalls of student-edited law journals, opportunities to write are plentiful. I've mentioned books and monographs. For example, there are several areas of tax law for which portfolio authors are needed. Professional journals pepper my in-box, both digital and postal, with requests for articles. Some CLE enterprises seek authors to write explanations and examples that can be used for educational purposes. As Geoffrey notes, blogs are open to anyone, and I add that well-written scholarly posts, or series of posts, are beginning to find acceptance and recognition in some circles as worthy writing. Often, the number of people reading portfolios and blogs are orders of magnitude larger than the number of people reading traditional articles published in student-edited law reviews.
The underlying question isn't why does someone write or not write. It is why the institution wants its faculty to write. Though it is claimed that writing makes a person a better teacher, there are people who contest that assertion. The reason institutions so value writing, particularly law review writing and traditional legal texts, is that it brings the school to the attention of faculty elsewhere, which theoretically boosts the institution's rankings. Law faculty at school A might know enough about the writings of faculty at schools B, C, and D, to mention one or another of them. How many faculty at school A know anything about the teaching quality at schools B, C, and D? In other words, when law faculty respond to the U.S. News questionnaire, their placement of a school is affected by that school's faculty scholarship and not by the reputation of its teachers. There is no question that law schools, when hiring, seek people who have published or who demonstrate significant potential when it comes to writing. Is this a good thing?
For me, it isn't essential that a school's faculty consist solely of people who are legal scholars, whatever that means. A faculty is not unlike a baseball team. It is impossible, I think, to field a lineup of players all of whom are base-stealing threats and 50-homers-a-season sluggers. A law faculty needs great teachers, and if the price that is paid for having them is to have a few who don't write, so be it. Similarly, among the writers on the faculty, it is beneficial to have not only those who pen law review articles, but others who produce books, write monographs, post blog pieces, and contribute editorials and essays. If a school is fortunate, it might have writers who do two or more of these things, and if a school is truly exceptional in its recruiting, it finds some writers who are also great teachers. The risk is that an institution which seeks only those who are great writers and teachers, it will struggle to find the balance that is required for a faculty that excels as a team.
The true concern is when a faculty member who does not write anything also does little beyond the usual teaching. Though Geoffrey claims that laziness is not an issue, there indeed are instances of law faculty who teach their classes, server on several committees as do other faculty, and don't do much else in terms of professional activities. Fortunately few in number and increasingly rare, they are the ones who fuel the popular misconception that law faculty "have it easy" because they're only in the classroom a few hours each week.
Geoffrey concludes that perhaps the reason some law faculty do not write is the avoidance of rejection and the need for "more immediate affirmation of worth." Yet, for me, that does not answer the question. One does not need the approval of a law student editor to publish a blog. Professional journals and publishers seek writers. The opportunities exist to make one's mark. I think it's something different. It could be that some law faculty don't want to publish because they don't want what they say to be criticized. They prefer a low profile. They feel safe in the classroom, because they are at the podium and the students are not, and because they are good or great teachers they know that student evaluations will be fine, or they adjust their teaching so that the evaluations are fine.
But as lawyers, why not run the risk of being criticized? There's always the opportunity to respond. Done well, and with respect, it is enriching, enjoyable, and enlightening. If that were not so, would I be blogging away? Nah.