Mitchell stresses that he is a practitioner. So, too, am I, though no longer on a full-time basis and no longer with taxpayers (aside from a few to whom I dare not say go away). My clients are tax practitioners, directly and indirectly. So when I help a tax practitioner help a client I'm not doing something all that different (if different at all) from what tax practitioners do.
Mitchell writes, "the non-practicing tax professor’s job is to ferret out arcane and obscure rules and fact patterns that may or may not be an issue or even arise in real life. Such a reading of the Code allows the tax professor to test which students deserve the higher mark and which deserve the lower mark." Where Mitchell gets this idea is a question I'd enjoy having answered, because that's not what I do as a tax law professor. There is no time in my courses to ferret out arcane and obscure rules. There's not enough time to deal with the basics. Although occasionally a student complains that I left an exception to an exception for some later day in practice, most appreciate the separation of fundamentals from arcane that characterize the courses that I teach. Granted, some don't quite grasp this until they are in practice and discover that client problems and assignments from partners make my tax courses seem like child's play. My job is to prepare students to learn how to interpret the Code and other tax sources and to learn how to teach themselves as they progress through a career during which there likely will be 20 or more major tax acts changing how they deal with their tax and non-tax clients. Mitchell's assertion reminds me of the students who contend that if they got a question wrong it was because the question addressed an obscure provision. I resist responding that a provision never read is indeed obscure.
Mitchell then attacks academic scholarship:
It also provides academic job security. The process goes something like this. One professor writes an article on some arcane and obscure rule or fact pattern. It is sufficiently long and/or complex so that no one actually reads it. Everyone just assumes that the piece is good and wise and the professor adds another publication notch to his or her belt. Then a second professor writes an article citing the first professor, which adds a publication notch to his or her belt. The process continues until there is a whole mess of writing on an issue that may or may not materialize in real life. Then one or more professors hold themselves out as consultants on the issue -- advising tax planners as to how the issue is important and how they can help their clients avoid it. The process has the trappings of a multi-level marketing scheme. I have not read the particular tax professor’s work, but I think that this is the market for tax translation that the professor mentioned.Well, as everyone who listens to me or reads my comments on the matter, I'm no fan of typical academic scholarship published in student-edited, and usually untimely, law reviews. I'm somewhat of a misfit in the law school "academy" because my writing, whether articles, book chapters, or books (such as Tax Management Portfolios) focuses on problems that already exist in practice. That's why I keep in contact with practitioners. It lets me find out what's happening in the practice world. Amazingly, and it absolutely amazes me, Mitchell hasn't read any of my writings. Let me be an egomaniac for a moment. How can anyone practice tax and not use Tax Management portfolios, at least now and then? And if anyone is dealing with the income side of tax (in contrast to international or estate and gift), the place to start is with the 8 overview portfolios, all of which have been written by this "particular tax professor." Hmm. That idea of the unread and therefore obscure and arcane provision seems to resurface here. So the accusation that I, or for that matter, any other tax law professor, invents issues that otherwise would not exist and then inject them into the practice world is flat out silly. The few tax law professors who confine their writing to highly theoretical and conceptual explorations are not in a position to so influence practitioners.
Mitchell then contends that
even if these arcane and obscure rules and fact patterns do arise, they have a way of working themselves out. This occurs where the government is not able to recognize the issue; the government recognizes the issue but decides not to pursue it; the government recognizes the issue, pursues it, loses in court, and gives up; or the government recognizes the issue, pursues it, loses in court, and expresses that it will continue to pursue the matter. In the later case it is only a matter of time before the courts or Congress clarifies the issue or the issue becomes a non-issue via one of the previously stated means. In the end, the tax professors are the only ones talking about the issue (typically for many many years).An issue that affects a taxpayer is not arcane and obscure to that taxpayer. Absent guidance, the taxpayer must choose between safe surrender and risky adventure. Sometimes what little guidance exists comes from things such as Tax Management portfolios. Considering the number of law review articles and Tax Management Portfolios cited by the courts, surely the output of practitioner-focused tax law professors has value. Let me self-promote again. A few years ago, I discovered, thanks to an observant law librarian, that the Department of Justice had cited some of my Tax Management Portfolios in appellate briefs, on more than a few occasions.
Then Mitchell states: "The truth is that a great many tax cases are won on procedural grounds without ever getting to the underlying substantive tax law. Yet very few tax professors write about or even teach tax procedure. The academic world portrays tax procedure as lowly or not worthy of academic study." I must bring this to the attention of the two faculty members who teach a basic and advanced tax procedure course at my school, and, oh, there's one that deals with criminal tax procedure. I devote 2 days at the beginning of the basic tax course taking students through an overview of procedural issues. Every survey result I've seen suggests that J.D. students are getting some exposure to procedure, and LL.M. students are pretty much compelled to take at least one such course. I'd like to see the empirical evidence that supports Mitchell's assertion.
What follows is shocking. He writes, "Rather than teaching the law and skills necessary to do this, tax professors employ their flawed means of reading of the Code to have their students explore the merits of one or two words in the Code." Flawed means? Does Mitchell intend to suggest I (alone or with my colleagues) have turned thousands of students into bumbling tax practitioner fools? Surely such an outcome flies in the face of what my practitioner graduates tell me.
I guess Mitchell doesn't like tax law professors. How else to explain this comment: "But to be fair, reading the Code for arcane and obscure issues and fact patterns is not entirely useless. It does give tax professors something to do, it does allow tax professors to feel like they are contributing something, it does help justify paying tax professors a salary, and in rare cases, it does add to the body of tax knowledge." I wonder what traumatic academic experience brought about such a "paint with a broad brush" attack.
But here is a clue:
This brings back memories of my partnership tax law class. In that class the professor did not simply cover the main rules and point out interesting or novel issues. Instead, the professor went into great detail about very specific fact patterns involving inside and outside basis, tax and cost basis, minimum gain charge back and qualified income offset provisions, and about other minutia. For sure, it was all good information to know. However, the fact patterns presented were very obscure. At the review for the exam one student asked the professor how partnerships could function in the real world given our partnership tax laws and why anyone would set up a partnership given the amount of compliance work that would be required to comply with the partnership tax laws. The tax professor responded by saying that almost no one complies with the law. After graduating and practicing I now know that the professor was partially correct.First, note the typical desire for "main rules" and "interesting ... issues" in contrast to the nuts and bolts of practice. This is a desire of which most of my students need to be, and are, eventually, disabused. Second, inside and outside basis is a fundamental linchpin of subchapter K. Tossing it off as "minutia" indicates a total lack of appreciation for what partnership taxation is about. Questions from practitioners struggling with real-life, practice world subchapter K issues involving basis, minimum gain chargebacks, and similar issues dominate the ABA-TAX listserv. Why? Because the Code, and yes, the regulations, are not well drafted. So I get to "translate" not only for list participants but for the dozens of practitioners who email me directly. If these are silly arcane issues, why are the practitioners wasting their time with them? Yes, compliance is horrible in this area of tax law. Why? Because people don't take the courses? Because the law (Code, regs) is NOT as simple as Mitchell contends? Because as students practitioners "tuned out" anything past "main rules" and "interesting issues"? Surely, reading the Code through a filtering lens of "main rules" leaves the practitioner with a simple (but erroneous) short and easy text.
Mitchell then states, "In the end, many of the partnership tax issues that were so pertinent in my law school partnership tax class are really non-issues in practice. Even then, I recently read an article by that very same professor complaining about the complexity of our tax code. Go figure." Well, of course, go figure. Yes, I complain about the complexity of the Code. Mitchell claims the Code is clear and simple. (He also claimed not to have read any of my works, but I guess he did.) My partnership tax class focuses on issues that practitioners have presented to me in one way or another. There is a long list of issues I don't cover, because time is scarce and these issues haven't been in the spotlight. Time and again, I cite (anonymously) a practitioner question posed to me on the listserv or directly by email. As law professors in most subjects tell their students, "We don't need to make up this stuff." Time and again former students call or write to express amazement that they are encountering in practice what I predicted they'd encounter (not a grand accomplishment considering in most instances I was relaying information from other practitioners).
When Mitchell writes, "The perspective from the ivory tower is not the only perspective out there," he implies I live in the ivory tower. I don't live in an ivory tower or an ivy-ed tower. That's been one of my hallmark characteristics, and one that, at times, has presented challenges fitting in with the culture of a theoretically-focused non-tax academy. I am surely the last tax law professor on the planet to be accused of being too theoretical, isolated, oblivious to the practice world, or residentially ivy-ed.
Mitchell concludes: "I did not say that the Code was perfect. What I did say is that from my perspective, for all it is to accomplish, the Code is model of clarity and simplicity and it is not too complex." As Stuart Levine points out, compared to most state tax laws the federal Code is high quality. True. And amongst 8-year-olds I'm still a very good basketball player. Analyzing the Code through stadard readability tests, for example, is a far better way to determine its clarity and simplicity. It's been done, and the Code is far from "not too complex." That the Code is not as bad as the regulations, or as some degree of organization, is no high praise.
Mitchell never responded to my specific examples of serious flaws in the drafting and style of the Code. Stuart Levine's post presents a good defense, explaining how the drafting process almost guarantees what we get. Where are the examples of clear, easy to read and understand Code provisions? Where are the readability scores showing the Code as a model of clarity?
Attacking the critic is not a useful response to the criticism. This is especially true when the attack on the critic is groundless. I expect better. My students say I am demanding. I am. I am, because I know that practice will be just as, even more, demanding. It demands something more than a gloss on "main rules" and "interesting issues." It demands a thorough understanding of the details that matter in practice. Arcane or not, if the client has the problem, the issue is real. And if the Code were so simple, why are there so many taxpayers seeking or needing professional tax advice?
I stand by my criticism of Mitchell's assertion that the Code is simple and clear. It's not.