The REINS Act presents an opportunity for those interested in administrative law to look into their assumptions and values. A few ideas immediately come to mind: efficiency, accountability, expertise, and good government. The prospect of a process in which the political branch passes a law, then passes it along to agencies to promulgate rules, then brings back in those rules for approval before agencies may start enforcing them presents a shift in the administrative process, the fascination of which I’m not sure either side in the debate really trumpets.

The supporters seem to think the rulemaking process is a part of process of making the statute in the first place; so it makes perfect sense that Congress should sign off on the rules promulgated pursuant to its own initiatives. Supporters also assume the elected representatives’ quick votes on the rules provide a measure of democratic accountability. They are generally skeptical of the competence and accountability of bureaucrats.

Objectors seem to think rulemaking is a function by which Presidents impose policy and assert power as a useful opposing branch to Congress. Objectors assume voters can hold agencies accountable every four years during the Presidential elections. They are generally skeptical of the political motivations and monetary capture of Congresspeople.

I haven’t seen as much discussion on what REINS means for the process of governing, and the values we attach to the various actors within government. So, below are a few questions.

Should a current Congress be able to prevent the promulgation of statutes passed by a prior Congress, without actually repealing the statute?

Say the GOP won both houses in 2010 with a veto proof majority and promptly passed laws requiring the Occupational Safety & Health Administration to revise its regulations to prevent only the workplace hazards causing “severe or frequent injuries.” OSHA works on the new rule for a few years, researching the severity and frequency of each occupation’s injuries, and finally produces the rule to Congress in 2013. Meanwhile, Democrats swept back into control of the House in 2012. The Democrats don’t have the votes to repeal the 2010 “NOSHA Act,” but when presented with OSHA’s rule, reject it by resolution. And they do so on every revised rule.

Is it desirable to allow a representative to vote in favor of a popular bill, but against its implementation?

Obstruction by resolution might not be by a later Congress against its predecessor. As I mentioned in a prior post, a representative might vote for the “Everyone Likes it in Theory” Act, but against the “Actually Putting it into Practice” regulation. REINS, then, might afford our elected officials another tool in the trickery of campaign ads.

Certainly it is possible that a representative will sincerely believe an agency got something wrong in its rule, and want to send it back for revision. That presents its own danger–the sometimes endlessness of noodling in minutia. Until now, we’ve left it for agencies to do the fine tuning, which takes years. REINS invites politicians into that process.

What does it mean to interpret a vague piece of legislation; when agencies add the necessarily tremendously detailed rules to statutes, are they in fact legislating or implementing existing legislation?

On one end of the spectrum, if a court believes that an agency actually changed a statute through rulemaking, the rule will be overturned. On the other end, a rule carrying out a specific statutory directive will stand.

In between are those rules that inspire the most written about doctrine in administrative law, Chevron, in which the statute was a little fuzzy and the agency decided on a particular interpretation.

Or rules that apply expertise where Congress asked for such expertise: like, Congress instructing the EPA Administrator to prescribe emission standards for air pollutants “which in his judgment cause, or contribute to, air pollution which may reasonably be anticipated to endanger public health or welfare.” 42 U.S.C. 7521(a)(1).

Is a rule an executive or legislative function?
Writers commonly describe agencies as performing quasi-legislative (rulemaking) and quasi-judicial (enforcing, adjudicating) tasks. I’ve wondered whether it’s appropriate to allow the “quasi-legislative” description to place agencies within the legislative branch in a separation of powers argument. Indeed, in my mind, rulemaking is neither an executive nor legislative function.

Rulemaking is simply an agency’s placing into executable rules already existing legislation. If an agency changes the legislation in the process of making a rule, the rule is invalid.

Execution, I think, is better left to those activities that enforce rules in effect. Note, of course, that a great deal of interpretation (guidance, decisions on when to enforce, allocation of resources) goes on in the act of enforcing.

Rulemaking, though, involves an effort to take a law and apply a framework with which it will apply to the real world. The idea has long been that Congress is institutionally unable to prescribe every detailed rule, so it delegates to experts that last step, teeing up one more question for now:

What is the best structure for, and by what process can we assure, an appropriate balance of expertise and accountability in the final rules governing our day-today lives?

The Constitution failed to provide a framework for the administrative state, even though (thanks to Professor Mashaw we know that) the framers should have seen it coming. Thus, statutory law (the APA) provides our structure, and that is what REINS aims to alter.

Far more than the canards of jobs, red tape, or the benefit of having regulations generally, the discussion REINS should be inspiring is of the basic processes of lawmaking and rulemaking. Will better (whether your opinion of “better” means fewer, more, or more effective) regulations result from providing Congress an up or down vote on every promulgated rule?

Will that process add significantly to the time it takes to put any given rule into effect, and is that good or bad? Will that process push agency rulemaking staff to work with Congressional staff and lobbyists far more while drafting rules, and is that good? Will they pay more attention to politics and less to economists and scientists? Will the need to pass Congressional approval become a response to public comments?

I tend to think REINS allows for political cover and massive regualtory delay. I doubt it will ever make the President’s desk, and if it does it’ll be vetoed. However, in another time, if such a change indeed comes along, I will dream of a world in which voters pay attention to how their representatives vote (on both the bill and the rule); in which every representative has the philosophical capacity to vote for or against general principles and the technocratic capacity to vote for or against the subsequent rule; and in which every representative can speed read sufficiently to fully understand and give a fair assessment of a rule within 15 to 30 days.

Finally, a correction: when I first posted on REINS I’d only read Section 1. REINS requires both houses of Congress to approve by joint resolution any new major rule. I thought a vote wasn’t required, which would have problematically allowed Congress to kill rules through inaction. That’s not the case, but the actual provisions, which do require an up or down vote, pose some problems.

The process is roughly this, for major rules: an agency submits to Congress its rule; the majority leaders of the House and Senate introduce resolutions accepting the rule, and then pass it on to the relevant committee; that committee then has 15 days to allow the joint resolution to stand, or propose amendments to the underlying statute; the joint resolution then goes tot he calendar for an up or down vote that must happen within 15 session days, with debate limited to 2 hours.

Jonathan Adler praises REINS’ expedited review and mandatory vote, but it is a strange comfort. Agencies take several years to develop major rules, and Congress is to vote on the thing in about 30 days. If one house plays more safe than sorry, and rejects the rule, it is back to the perdurable drawing board.

Included amongst those both for and against the REINS Act, I’m sure, are some administrative law scholars happy with the chance to reflect on the status of our administrative state.

The acronym for the Regulations from the Executive in Need of Scrutiny Act highlights, as conservative  sources celebrate, the bill’s intent to rein in federal regulations.  In a nutshell, it allows Congress to do through inaction what the Congressional Review Act–part of the mid-90s Contract with America–already allows Congress to do with legislative action: to disqualify major, new regulations.  Under the REINS Act, if an agency proposed a rule that had an estimated economic impact of more than $100 million (this happens about 50-100 times each year), both chambers in Congress would be required to approve of the final rule.  If Congress didn’t pass a joint resolution within 70 days in the legislative session, the proposed rule would die.   The Congressional Review Act already allows Congress to disqualify an agency’s rule, but both chambers have to vote affirmatively to do so.  Thus, under current law, Congress must pass a joint resolution to kill a regulation; under the proposed law, it must pass a joint resolution to affirm a regulation.

The politics of the bill are less interesting than the more fundamental concerns with administrative law, so we’ll quickly dispel the former.  The bill would lower the effective rate of (REIN in) major federal rules.  Some people like that and others don’t.

A more sophisticated issue, segue-ing us from politics to administrative theory, is accountability.  A blessing and curse of our fleet of civil servants is that they are purportedly experts, insulated from the fickle tides of public opinion; at the same time, is is difficult to ascribe accountability to the insulated rulemakers.  The conundrum of accountability versus expertise has existed probably as long as representation; but has at least been well pondered since Woodrow Wilson zeroed in on it in 1886.

Supporting insulated expertise, here is Noah Sachs:

Since the Progressive era, U.S. administrative law has operated from the premise that agency action should be somewhat insulated from political pressure and horse trading. The REINS Act would mark a radical abandonment of that goal, an attempt to correct an oversight problem that doesn’t even exist. It would deliver a body blow to the already-sluggish agency rulemaking process by politicizing it and entangling it in the congressional morass. And, over the long term, it would do serious damage to American health and prosperity—stopping agencies from promulgating important rules that, among other things, would help prevent bank failures, ensure the safety of the food we eat, and control toxic pollution in the air we breathe.

The results would likely be devastating. In the near term, the REINS Act could be a back-door means of gutting health care reform. The GOP lacked the votes in the Senate to repeal the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, but, under the REINS Act, it could do serious damage to the statute. The law has more than 40 different provisions that call on the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) to enact implementing regulations. These forthcoming rules, most of which will be considered “major,” will cover issues such as prevention of Medicare fraud and extending dependent coverage to people as old as 26. With the REINS Act in effect, they could be quashed if the House objects to them, or if Republicans simply stall a floor vote on them beyond 70 days.

And supporting accountability, here is Jonathan Adler:

The primary purpose of the Act is to ensure greater political accountability for major regulatory initiatives.  Federal regulatory agencies only have that power delegated them by Congress, but regulatory agencies are not always particularly responsive to Congressional concerns.  Nor are members of Congress always willing to take responsibility for how the power they have delegated gets exercised.  Requiring a straight up-or-down vote on new major regulations is a way to address both problems and the expedited procedures ensure that traditional legislative logjams and special interest obstruction won’t prevent consideration of significant regulatory initiatives.  This is why I believe the REINS Act is more about transparency and political accountability than anything else.

Adler’s support of the bill, trumpeting transparency and accountability, might sound more coherent if the Congressional Review Act did not already exist.  But, it is difficult to see how a bill that allows Congress to quietly overturn proposed rules by not voting is more transparent or accountable than existing law that allows Congress to overturn a rule by voting.  The argument can only be on this question: which scheme promotes greater transparency and accountability–one in which X must reject Y; or one in which X must affirm Y, and is deemed to reject Y if X does not act.  I don’t think it’s impossible to argue that requiring affirmation is as accountability-securing as requiring rejection, but administrative law makes it a stretch.  If agencies were actually government bodies with free reign to create rules, willy-nilly, a required Congressional affirmative would make exceeding sense.  As it is, though, agencies cannot pass rules that statutes do not authorize.  So Congress has already provided an affirmative by passing legislation authorizing rulemakings.  A second vote to pass the actual rule resulting from passed legislation seems to me to decrease accountability.  A representative might vote yes to the “Everyone Like It in Theory” Act, but vote against (or not vote at all) for the “Actual Details of Putting It into Practice” regulations.

The question that brings us into a truly philosophical examination into our administrative state is: how does the REINS bill strike our notions of the separation of powers?  Arguments relying on the separation of powers principle rely on neatly demarcated branches of government, and folks arguing for and against the bill tend to either (1) place agencies in the executive branch or (2) emphasize that they are substantively controlled by legislation; thus, at least rulemaking should be regarded as a legislative branch activity.

Sally Katzen argues that the REINS Act would be unconstitutional, relying on an agency-as-executive approach:

Over twenty years ago, Chief Justice Rehnquist set forth several tests for whether a statute violates the Constitution’s separation of powers. One is that a statute is suspect if it “involve[s] an attempt by Congress to increase its own powers at the expense of the executive branch.” Much of the discussion surrounding the REINS Act suggests that that may be an apt characterization of the bill’s sponsors’ intent. Another of Rehnquist’s tests is whether an act of Congress “impermissibly interfere[s] with the President’s exercise of his constitutionally appointed functions,” which clearly includes the obligation to “take care that the laws be faithfully executed.” For over a century, the executive branch has taken care to faithfully execute the laws by, among other things, developing and issuing regulations implementing legislation. Justice Scalia, who of all the Justices most aggressively guards the President’s authority, has relied in key separation of powers cases such as Morrison v. Olson and Mistretta v. United States on the fact that the activities at issue in those cases were ones in which the executive had traditionally engaged.  That characterization is clearly applicable to agency rulemaking as well.

Jonathan Adler wants to distinguish “execution” from rulemaking:

Several members of the subcommittee suggested the REINS Act imposed unconstitutional constraints on executive power, particularly the executive’s responsibility to faithfully execute and enforce federal laws.  Therefore, they suggested, the REINS Act could conflict with Article II, Section 1 of the Constitution.  Set aside the curiosity of House Democrats, including Rep. Conyers, defending executive power.  This objection is based on a fundamental confusion about the nature of executive power. The power to “enforce” the laws – that is, the power to take action to see that legal rules are complied with – is distinct from the power to make the rules pursuant to a delegation of authority from Congress. So, for instance, the EPA’s power to impose fines or other sanctions on companies that violate emission limitations is distinct from the EPA’s power to set the emission limits. A requirement that federal regulatory agencies obtain Congressional approval before major rules may take effect requires Congressional assent for the latter, but has not effect on the former.

Sally Katzen raised a more nuanced separation of powers concern, but one that I also find unconvincing, and for largely the same reasons. She noted that under Morrison v. Olson, “a statute is suspect if it ‘involves an attempt by Congress to increase its own powers at the expense of the executive branch,’” and it is reasonable to see the REINS Act as an effort to constrain the executive. Just look at the bill’s full title and findings. The problem with her argument is that it ignores the distinction between executive and legislative functions.

The powers to investigate and prosecute are core executive functions. Any effort by Congress to limit such powers and aggrandize its own is problematic.

The executive power is distinct from the power to adopt legislative-type rules, however.  The latter is not a core executive function. Rather it is a quasi-legislative power that must be delegated by Congress. As the Supreme Court has stressed time and again (and as I noted in my testimony), federal agencies have no authority to promulgate regulations beyond that which has been given by Congress. And what Congress has given, it may take back. Restraining the exercise of such authority, whether by adopting rules for the exercise of regulatory authority (as under the Administrative Procedure Act or the Congressional Review Act) or limiting the scope of such authority is perfectly acceptable, so long as other Constitutional requirements (such as bicameralism and presentment) are satisfied. As the REINS Act satisfies such requirements, there is no problem. The REINS Act does not curtail executive power so much as it places limits on the legislative-like power delegated by Congress.

Adler is right to prevent over-simplistically placing agencies into one branch– whenever people talk about separation of powers, I recommend a seasoning of sufficient salt to add complexity to the dish.   I appreciate recent scholarship, such as that from Professor Mashaw, that identifies things we would see as administrative functions before the solidification of an administrative law field.  But, it is nonetheless clear that the framers in 1787 did not write up a structure of federal government that foresaw the contemporary administrative state.  So, framer-centric arguments about separation of powers elude the post-framing constitutional problems that arose as delegations of quasi-legislative and quasi-judicial powers arose.

Adler, though, seems to think that agencies, at least when making major rules, should be fully and solely creatures of Congress.  I’m not sure that is the proper understanding of the nature of agencies’ regulatory action.  An agency’s rule is not a new law; it is the carrying out of a Congressional statute.  If a rule goes beyond what an authorizing statute allows, it will be overturned.  And so, it is not a stretch to pull rulemaking away from Adler’s description of legislative activity and toward his notion of executive enforcement: a rule might be understood as analogous to a police office’s enforcement of a criminal ordinance with a policies to identify manifestations of that crime.  Likewise, Congress might declare that X is prohibited, and agencies then enforce against X by identifying X in X-1, X-2, and X-3 manifestations.  Rules, in other words, are an agency’s specified enforcement strategies of a broader Congressional policy.

I’m not interested in placing agencies definitively within wither the executive, legislative, or judicial branch.  The point, in fact, is that they do not belong, and should not be conceptualized, as being in either.  Sadly for the textualist, there is no appropriate constitutional language that provides direct guidance to the Court on administrative law.  That is not to say the language is irrelevant; but it is inadequate.

And speaking of language, it is interpretation that makes all of this most interesting.  The argument that agencies execute legislation would make tremendous sense if statutes were never vague.  But they are, which undoubtedly emphasizes the latter portion of the hyphenated quasi-legislation.

That is not to say, though, that Congress ought to take control of the rulemaking process when agencies work in the world of Chevron.  The appropriate response to the mysteries of our administrative state is not to force agencies into an existing branch.  The appropriate method for Congress to affect policy is by passing statutes.  It would be interesting to read the Court decision in a case deciding whether a latter Congress can prevent a former Congress’ legislation from taking effect by preventing associated regulations from becoming final.  My hunch is that the practice would fail.   Once a bill become law Congress cannot direct the interpretation of that law except by passing a new bill.  Chevron doesn’t require an agency, in the face of vague statutory language, to go get a Congressional interpretation; the Court has created a space for agencies to reasonably interpret statutes, and thus create policy, in a sphere outside that of our generally recognized governmental branches.

This week the Administration announced that it asked agencies to eliminate silly regulations.  The NY Times had an article yesterday tossing some cold water on the idea that there are a plethora of useless regulations easy to weed out. The idea Ssounds great; but, one taxpayer’s waste is another’s necessary safety net.

…specialists on both sides of the political aisle say that the president is wasting the government’s time. They say there are few rules so dumb, duplicative or outdated that everyone can agree they serve no purpose. Rather, most regulations reviled by some are cherished by others, meaning that any effort to reduce regulation is a political process, not a question of housekeeping.

The problem, though, is not so much that a search for silly regulations will bear little fruit.  The problem is that the search is not free.  Business development offices in the consulting firms surrounding DC have assuredly assigned teams of proposal writers to gear up language on the firms’ regulatory review capabilities.  (Government must, of course, spend money for agency workers reviewing regulations.  Folks need to remember that the industry of government consultants is also funded by taxpayers – so any use of “consultants” below should have the mental pre-fix of “government-funded.”)

Unfortunately, an agency head cannot look at a regulation, declare it silly in the holistic scheme of things, and strike it from the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations.  Agencies, newly spurred to find something to review will hire those consulting firms to spend a few months developing a report that presents the costs and benefits, and whatever other quantitative factors that might denote silliness.  The agency will then need to publish, on the off chance it actually deems the rule silly, a notice (probably written by consultants) in the Federal Register that it wants to strike the rule.  It will then hire consultants to organize the comments that come in for and against the rule’s demise.  And it will ultimately publish a final notice with answers to those comments.

In other words, it isn’t cheap to weed out whatever few regulations are actually silly.  Which is part of the problem.  Another part is that the process of looking back to review old regulations already exists – it’s called, appropriately, a “lookback review.”  And the efficiency of the exercise gives some insight of what we can expect from this latest ode to regulatory weeding:

A federal law already requires agencies to review regulations that affect small businesses every 10 years. Congress also created an Office of Advocacy in the Small Business Administration as an ombudsman for the concerns of businesses. Since 2007, that office has asked businesses to nominate “outdated and ineffective rules.” It then produces a Top 10 list of rules that it presses other agencies to rewrite.

So far, only one highlighted rule has been changed. After four years of lobbying, the government agreed to end a practice of withholding 10 percent of architects’ and engineers’ fees for work on federal projects until the job was done.

Other industries still are waiting. Dry-cleaning machines, which emit hazardous gases, must be tested for compliance with the Clean Air Act. The machines have changed considerably since the rules were written in the 1980s, making it difficult to conduct the tests. The industry has long petitioned the E.P.A. to update the rules, so far without success. An E.P.A. spokesman declined to comment.

Those passages capture the main rub with good intentioned reviews of regulation.  Federal agencies don’t really need more impetus to review rules.  Agency staff, consultants, and regulated industries know full well which rules are silly.  What the agencies need is a better process for striking or revising those rules.  An improved revision process might tweak a bit of the Federal Register and OMB requirements; but the more promising development would be agency staff that have authority to work across the agency’s minute divisions and push the rule revision through the forest and onto the Federal Register.

There are two Jeffrey Rosen’s in DC that write about law.  One does so, frequently, for the New Republic, and professes at George Washington.  The other does regulatory law, and just wrote a column for the Administrative and Regulatory Law News circular that I receive every so often.

The column describes the door that the Supreme Court opened, via Massachusetts v. EPA, to plaintiffs challenging an agency’s decision to decline a petitioner’s invitation to make a rule.  Denials of rulemaking petitions never caused agency-lawyers much anxiety before Mass; but now, argues Rosen, general councils should be sending updated legal advice to their agencies’ rulemaking divisions.

The EPA argued, in Mass, that it didn’t have authority to regulate greenhouse gases; and, if it did, it would not (citing several policy reasons).  The Court held that: (1) yes it did; and (2) the Clean Air Act (CAA) directs EPA to make some particular considerations while making rules, and EPA’s policy reasons for denying the petition did not fit the bill.

The first issue is a failure of Chevron step one.  No new ground for regulatory lawyers there.  The second, argues Rosen, is a hugely new route that lawyers could take when challenging petition denials.  Rosen writes that the Court relied “on an aggressive interpretation of the CAA” and “presented a very narrow view of what the agency could consider in response to a petition for rulemaking, insisting that an agency must ‘ground its reasons for action or inaction in the statute.’”

Citing Scalia’s dissent, Rosen implicitly takes issue with the Court’s “aggressive interpretation,” writing that “the Court took the standard the EPA was required to use during rulemaking proceedings and required it to use that standard to decide whether to institute rulemaking proceedings in the first place.”

Got that?  It does sound a bit problematic.

But, I’m not sure* whether Rosen is identifying what sticks out to me as a major distinction: The petition at issue in Massachusetts v. EPA addressed an already existing clean air rule.  Rather than urging that EPA create a new rule, the petition urged EPA to expand the rule’s coverage to greenhouse gases.  Because the rule was already in existence, the Court could treat EPA’s reasoning with the standards that would be in effect during rulemaking.  On the other hand, if no rule at all existed, the agency would not have been subject to the reasoning-requirements set out in the CAA.

Valid distinction?

*I’m genuinely not sure – and will update if a closer read of Mass suggests otherwise.

interesting post at baseline scenario on Nudge, the book we discussed a while back giving some insight into our prolific regulatory gatekeeper, Professor Sunstein.  Worth a read, if you’re interested in the latest on psychoanalysis, economics, and rulemaking.

(the linked post refers to the book’s co-author, Richard Thaler)

I am inclined to believe that public comments provide the directly democratic input to agency rulemaking.  This is particularly so if those comments provide substance to the agency’s cost-benefit analysis supporting the rule’s adoption or abandonment.

Before going forward with a major rule, most agencies must submit the rule to the President’s Office of Management and Budget.  Does vigorous OMB oversight of agency rulemaking (from Reagan forward) add to the democratic-ness of an agency’s cost-benefit analysis and the review of public comments?  Do courts provide sufficient oversight with judicial review; to wit, in their review that agency decisions stemming from cost-benefit analysis and comment review are not arbitrary and capricious?

Lest we move forward skipping too many assumptions: How much democratic-ness do we want from agencies?  Are they supposed to be expert agencies or agencies of the popular will?

In mid-May, the Senate Committee on Homeland Security and Government Affairs held a confirmation hearing for Cass Sunstein, the pick to head up the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs.  OIRA is the sub-office within the Office of Management and Budget that reviews proposed rules and the accompanying analyses that explain the need for those rules.  We noted below the news on Sunstein’s supposed appointment, and on April 20 Obama made it official.

Most legal-punditry I read on the appointment noted Sunstein’s allegiance to cost benefit analysis.  Used in a policy context, a cost benefit analysis quantifies to the extent possible all the costs and benefits that result from a regulation.  How will Americans benefit, and what will Americans have to pay, if, say, the DOT requires all roads to have those reflective things between lanes?

One immediately sees a problem – while the term “benefit” allows some descriptive breadth, “cost” is a restrictive term that anchors us to a numeric dollar amount.  And because you can’t compare apples to oranges nor warm fuzzies to greenbacks, both sides of the cost and benefit equation are restricted to $$.  Also, does it matter who gets the benefits and who has to pay?  Do we count benefits that apply to animals, to an ecosystem, or to what we perceive as a benefit to Earth?

Most cost benefit analyses reach a quantified value for things like aesthetic beauty, avoidance of risks, and life with sociological experiments that ask subjects to declare how much they would pay to protect something or avoid something.  A study of salaries and risks in the workplace, for instance, gives us EPA’s value of a human life: $6.1 million.

So, how will Cass Sunstein treat cost benefit when he walks into OIRA?  We have the opportunity to see Cass Sunstein defending cost benefit analyses against the above concerns in his New Republic book review that we noted below.  Sunstein reviews Priceless: On Knowing the Price of Everything and the Value of Nothing,Frank Ackerman’s and Lisa Heinzerling’s attack on the use of cost benefit.  Sunstein acknowledges their concerns…

The authors raise several good questions about cost-benefit analysis. Certainly regulators should care not only about reduced fatalities, but also about the health gains produced by regulation. They should take account of all the potential benefits, such as protection of ecosystems and animals, including members of endangered species. It is quite crude to say that every life is “worth” $6.1 million; some kinds of risk, and some kinds of death, produce heightened concern.

…but he does not buy their proposal to abandon cost benefit.  By and large, Sunstein’s reaction to the book is much as Sunstein’s typical thinking, as far as I can tell in what I have read: measured.  Yes, quantification can handicap cost benefit analyses, but it is still worthwhile to take costs and benefits into account.

One can see in the book review that Sunstein is keenly aware of slippery slopes and logical conclusions.  Cost benefit analyses, for him, block those slopes.  If, for instance, DOT went ahead with the rule to place reflectors between every lane, how many do we use?  At what point (4 feet apart, 1 foot apart, 6 inches apart) do more reflectors become ineffective and simply a waste of money?  We need some sense of the costs as compared to the benefits to prevent overprecaution.  That, I think, is basically Sunstein’s point in the review.

Though the review came out in Spring 2004, we get a glimpse of what Sunstein might require of agencies from his desk at OIRA.  About mid-way through the review, he imagines how we might take Ackerman’s and Heinzerling’s valid concerns:

We could read Ackerman and Heinzerling to be calling for an improved and chastened form of cost benefit analysis–for an assessment that includes all benefits, not just a subset; appropriately values the future; is sensitive to issues of distribution; and is based on more accurate “translations” of social risks into dollar equivalents.

Pivoting a bit to regulatory theory, I was struck by Sunstein’s presentation of cost benefit analysis as an antonym to the precautionary principle.  Sunstein presents the development of regulatory policy as an option between two opposed approaches: the cost benefit analysis and the precautionary principle.  We’ve covered the former, and Sunstein helpfully analogizes the latter with the “better safe than sorry” approach.  In his first paragraph, he writes that the “standard account” sets cost benefit and precautionary as separate approaches- padding the notion of competing schools of thought to allow some complexity.

It isn’t clear to me, though, that these are mutually exclusive approaches to policy-making.  Government rules are begot in Congress, frequently with a precautionary mood: we can’t let governments take people’s property, so let’s halt eminent domain, for instance.  Then, agencies fine tune the law into a regulation, using cost benefit.  Given, that trajectory of precautionary in Congress to cost benefit is agency work is far too simplistic – but I wonder if the approaches are simply different phases of a single policy-making timeline.

Most agencies have to pass potential new regulations through the White House gate before presenting the proposals to the public for comment.  And the gatekeeper is the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs, a suboffice within the Office of Managment and Budget.  Among many other things, OIRA looks at how an agency reasoned its way to its plan of action.  To be quite fair, OIRA has parameters for its own evaluations of regulatory actions.  Executive Order 12866 is directed to agencies, but gives fair warning of what the White House will be thinking while reviewing proposed rules – and something they think alot about is cost benefit analysis.

(more…)

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