The
federal
judiciary
—
which
employs
more
than
30,000
people,
including
several
thousand
judicial
law
clerks
—
is
the
most
dangerous
white-collar
workplace
in
America.
The
toxic
combination
of
pervasive
harassment;
lack
of
outside,
impartial
oversight;
and
dearth
of
impartial,
effective
mechanisms
to
report
create
an
outrageous
lack
of
accountability.
The
decentralized
judiciary
is
composed
of
imperial,
unaccountable,
life-tenured
judges,
many
of
whom
lord
total
power
and
demand
unquestioning
fealty
from
two
to
four
recent
law
graduates,
not
just
for
their
one-
or
two-year
clerkships,
but
for
their
entire
legal
careers.
The
federal
judiciary
has
a
harassment
problem.
There
are
numerous
solutions,
if
they
cared
to
implement
them.
Consider
this:
The
Legal
Accountability
Project
(LAP)
runs
a
Centralized
Clerkships
Database
(AKA
“Glassdoor
for
Judges”),
containing
more
than
1,500
candid
post-clerkship
surveys
submitted
by
law
clerks
nationwide.
Our
surveys,
which
anyone
who
clerked
can
submit,
and
anyone
applying
can
access
for
a
small
fee,
suggest
that
75%
to
80%
of
clerkship
experiences
are
positive.
That
means
20%
to
25%
of
judicial
clerkship
experiences
are
neutral
to
negative.
Not
exactly
the
overwhelmingly
positive,
lifelong
mentor/mentee
relationships
that
law
school
clerkship
programming
and
social
media
ram
down
our
throats.
In
my
conversations
with
clerks,
they
describe
“pervasive”
abusive
conduct
(the
judiciary’s
term
for
“bullying”),
gender-
and
race-based
discrimination,
sexual
and
gender-based
harassment,
unjust
termination,
and
retaliation.
Clerks
voice
concerns
about
a
lack
of
oversight;
guardrails
to
prevent
mistreatment;
neutral,
impartial
outside
points
of
contact
to
confide
in;
safe,
impartial
channels
to
report
misconduct;
transparency
around
judicial
discipline;
or
accountability
for
judges
who
mistreat
clerks.
Yet
clerks
understand
the
lack
of
legal
or
cultural
protection
against
retaliation
for
reporting
misconduct;
lack
of
meaningful
redress,
like
monetary
damages
or
legally
enforceable
settlement
agreements,
available
to
them;
and
judiciary
disinterest
in
assisting
them.
In
fact,
judiciary
points
of
contact
literally
discourage
clerks
from
filing
misconduct
complaints
or
pressure
them
to
withdraw
them
once
filed,
threatening
—
explicitly
or
implicitly
—
termination
or
other
retaliation.
Clerks
overwhelmingly
tell
me
they
have
not
and
would
not
report
misconduct
to
the
federal
judiciary,
because
they
do
not
believe
their
complaints
will
be
taken
seriously
or
robustly
investigated.
The
wholly
internal
complaint
process
suffers
from
misaligned
incentives:
the
judiciary
is
highly
motivated
to
chill
complaints
and
to
dissuade
clerks
from
filing
complaints
—
which
judges
and
their
defenders
within
the
Administrative
Office
of
the
U.S.
Courts
(AO)
find
inconvenient
and
disruptive.
Beyond
this,
were
there
to
be
a
groundswell
of
clerk
complaints,
the
judiciary
might
be
forced
to
answer
tough
questions
about
their
failure
to
protect
clerks
from
harassment.
Since
mistreated
clerks
rarely
report
misconduct,
the
low
number
of
misconduct
complaints
the
judiciary
reports
annually
is
a
gross
undercount
representing
a
fraction
of
the
misconduct
judges
commit.
Silence
benefits
the
federal
courts,
but
not
the
clerks
who
support
the
courts’
daily
functioning.
It’s
a
perilous
time
for
clerks.
Neither
the
federal
judiciary
nor
Congress
is
interested
in
implementing
meaningful
solutions.
There’s
also
a
ticking
clock,
as
students
enter
yet
another
clerkship
application
cycle
without
proper
information.
While
LAP’s
Clerkships
Database
has
become
ubiquitous
among
applicants,
the
hazards
of
federal
clerkships
are
unknown
to
many,
since
law
schools
gaslight
students
about
these
prestigious
yet
unregulated
positions.
Structural
flaws
in
judicial
clerkships
make
them
particularly
conducive
to
harassment
and
other
misconduct,
but
students
would
never
know
that
from
attending
a
law
school
career
services-sponsored
judicial
clerkship
program.
Lest
you
think
clerks
are
“just
too
sensitive,”
here’s
a
broad
overview
of
what
I
hear
from
clerks:
judges
berate
clerks
for
perceived
“mistakes”
after
not
providing
clear
instructions,
feedback
or
guidance.
Judges
complain
about
clerks
while
in
earshot
and
pit
clerks
against
each
other.
Judges
fire
clerks
partway
through
the
clerkship
(after
all,
clerks
are
“’at
will’
employees”)
not
for
poor
performance,
but
because
they’re
apparently
just
“not
a
good
fit,”
after
clerks
have
uprooted
their
lives
and
families
to
move
to
a
new
state,
sign
a
one-
or
two-year
apartment
lease,
and
perhaps
even
take
a
state-specific
bar
exam.
Judges
demand
outrageous
80-hour
work
weeks,
not
because
the
court’s
docket
is
overburdened
but
because
of
the
judge’s
unreasonably
exacting
expectations
for
work
product.
They
regularly
require
clerks
to
handle
“non-judicial
tasks”
that
are
well
outside
clerks’
job
descriptions
—
treating
clerks
more
like
personal
assistants
than
like
legal
apprentices
—
tasking
clerks
with
dog
walking,
fetching
dry
cleaning,
tutoring
children,
and
even
helping
them
teach
law
school
courses
during
government
time.
All
of
these
likely
violate
judiciary
restrictions
on
(mis)use
of
court
resources,
but
holding
judges
accountable
would
require
clerks
to
file
complaints.
And,
after
subjecting
clerks
to
abuse
—
which
they
try
to
endure,
understanding
the
importance
of
a
clerkship
to
their
careers
and
the
necessity
of
leaving
with
a
good
reference
—
judges
retaliate
anyway
by
giving
negative
references
to
employers
or
bar
associations
—
even
affirmatively
calling
prospective
employers
to
bad-mouth
clerks,
causing
job
offers
to
be
revoked
and
putting
bar
licenses
in
jeopardy.
Disturbingly,
most
misconduct
goes
unreported,
because
clerks
fear
speaking
out
against
their
imperious,
unaccountable
bosses.
The
judiciary
doesn’t
make
it
easy,
by
design.
There
are
no
impartial,
secure
reporting
channels,
and
clerks
are
not
legally
protected
against
retaliation
for
doing
so,
since
the
federal
judiciary
is
exempt
from
Title
VII
of
the
Civil
Rights
Act.
You’d
hope
that
at
least
the
most
extreme
situations
would
spur
the
judiciary
to
action.
For
example,
clerks
quitting
—
which
they
rarely
do;
and
even,
in
some
instances,
whole
chambers
quitting
or
being
fired.
Or,
in
at
least
one
particularly
disturbing
situation,
when
both
chambers
law
clerks
requested
to
be
reassigned
to
a
different
judge
simultaneously.
Yet
when
I
raised
concerns
about
situations
like
these
with
one
director
of
workplace
relations
(DWR)
—
the
law
clerk
point
of
contact
who
the
judiciary
claims
is
best
able
to
handle
clerk
issues
because
they
know
their
decentralized
circuits
best
—
the
DWR
told
me
they
“didn’t
know
anything
about
that”
because
they
“don’t
work
in
that
courthouse.”
Often,
the
judiciary
disclaims
responsibility
for
these
matters.
So,
who
judges
the
judges?
In
order
to
keep
their
reported
misconduct
numbers
low,
while
forcing
vulnerable
clerks
into
their
debt,
the
AO
often
hastily
reassigns
mistreated
clerks
who
informally
“report”
mistreatment
to
work
for
different
judges
for
the
remainder
of
their
clerkship
term.
On
its
face,
this
might
seem
like
a
mutually
beneficial
solution.
But
it’s
actually
a
Band-Aid
over
a
bullet
hole,
and
a
pretense
for
failing
to
actually
solve
systemic
problems.
The
judiciary
is
able
to
conceal
the
symptoms
of
these
larger
structural
challenges
by
chilling
complaints,
enabling
them
to
avoid
dealing
with
the
problems,
whose
evidence
they
have
suppressed.
Reassignment
may
seem
like
a
decent
outcome
for
clerks.
It’s
certainly
ideal
for
the
judiciary,
rather
than
investing
time
and
resources
to
investigate
a
misconduct
complaint.
But
this
sham
of
a
process
lacks
the
meaningful
redress
mistreated
clerks
deserve.
Clerks
don’t
get
their
dignity
back.
They
don’t
get
six
months
of
their
lives
when
they
cried
themselves
to
sleep,
back.
They
don’t
get
the
monetary
remedies
they
might
otherwise
be
owed,
were
they
able
to
pursue
legal
claims
under
federal
anti-discrimination
laws.
And,
for
clerks
who
struggle
to
find
post-clerkship
employment
—
after
enduring
mistreatment
to
try
to
preserve
their
career
prospects
—
because
they’re
unable
to
list
the
judge
as
a
reference
after
they
were
mistreated,
fired,
or
quit
—
the
judiciary
does
nothing
to
help.
Beyond
this,
by
reassigning
clerks,
the
judiciary
puts
off
addressing
the
structural
challenges
—
including
lack
of
training,
oversight,
transparency,
reporting
channels,
and
discipline
—
that
cause
judges
to
mistreat
clerks
with
impunity,
year
after
year.
And
because
these
circumstances
do
not
launch
formal
misconduct
investigations,
there’s
no
accountability
(discipline)
for
judges
who
mistreat
clerks
and
no
transparency
around
this
such
that
prospective
clerks
could
avoid
these
judges.
Additionally,
without
mandatory
remedial
or
managerial
training
for
abusive
judges
and
poor
managers,
there’s
no
way
to
ensure
they
will
not
continue
mistreating
subordinates
or
deter
judges
from
mistreating
future
clerks.
Then,
judges
are
free
to
hire
new
clerks,
who
may
be
unaware
that
previous
clerks
were
just
reassigned
due
to
mistreatment
—
thrusting
additional
clerks
unwittingly
into
hostile
work
environments.
State
court
systems
do
the
same
thing
—
reassigning
clerks
quietly
rather
than
disciplining
judges.
Nothing
changes
about
the
hostile
work
environment
in
chambers,
and
the
vicious
cycle
of
mistreatment
repeats.
This
broken
system
must
be
fixed:
otherwise,
the
judiciary
will
keep
sending
clerks
blindly
into
unsafe
work
environments
and
setting
judges
up
for
failure.
In
several
more
egregious
cases
recently,
the
judiciary
encouraged
abusive
judges
to
retire
or
resign
quietly
—
amid
clouds
of
misconduct
—
to
evade
accountability
and
spare
their
reputations.
That’s
because
once
a
judge
retires
or
resigns,
under
the
current
rules,
the
federal
judiciary
loses
jurisdiction
over,
and
cannot
discipline,
judges
once
they
step
down.
(Importantly,
state
bar
associations
do
have
jurisdiction
and
could
theoretically
discipline
former
judges.)
The
judiciary
protects
judges’
allegedly
sterling
reputations
at
all
costs,
so
they
can
return
to
lucrative
private
practice
(where
they
will
probably
mistreat
more
employees)
and
even
appear
before
the
courts
they
once
presided
over,
hoping
no
one
learns
why
they
were
pushed
out.
Frankly,
nothing
is
more
detrimental
to
declining
public
trust
in
the
judiciary
than
repeatedly
turning
a
blind
eye
to
judicial
misconduct,
since
the
judiciary’s
harassment
problem
has
become
a
subject
of
regular
public
discussion,
yet
the
judiciary
repeatedly
fails
to
respond
properly
to
criticism.
These
problems
persist
largely
because
clerks
fear
retaliation
or
reputational
harm
for
speaking
out.
Clerks
depend
on
judges
for
references
and
career
advancement.
Years
after
the
clerkship,
a
prospective
employer
may
call
your
listed
references,
but
they’ll
almost
certainly
contact
the
judge.
Clerks
live
in
fear
years
and
even
decades
later.
Even
after
judges
die,
clerks
fear
angering
the
judge’s
army
of
loyal
and
powerful
clerks
and
worry
about
retribution
from
the
legal
profession
for
speaking
ill
of
improperly
lionized
judges.
Yet
the
judiciary
benefits
from
clerks’
silence.
The
judicial
accountability
mechanisms
are
broken
and
require
total
overhaul.
Both
the
Employee
Dispute
Resolution
(EDR)
Plan,
and
the
Judicial
Conduct
and
Disability
(JC&D)
Act
rely
on
vulnerable
clerks
filing
complaints
against
their
powerful
superiors.
But
with
no
legal
protection
against
retaliation
for
reporting,
no
legal
counsel
to
assist
them,
no
clear
benefits,
and
enormous
headwinds
against
success,
the
processes
are
stacked
against
clerks.
Discipline
is
overseen
by
fellow
judges
in
the
court
or
circuit
where
the
misbehaving
judge
works,
and
judges
are
unable
or
unwilling
to
sit
in
impartial
judgment
of
their
colleagues.
There
is
so
little
oversight
and
accountability
over
these
processes
that
several
clerks
literally
said
to
me,
“What’s
to
prevent
the
court
from
throwing
my
complaint
in
the
trash?”
The
judiciary
doesn’t
literally
toss
complaints
in
the
trash,
but
they
might
as
well.
DWRs,
who
hold
themselves
out
as
law
clerk
points
of
contact
but
actually
serve
as
“HR
for
the
judiciary,”
and
other
judiciary
representatives,
actively
dissuade
clerks
from
filing
complaints.
They
advise
clerks
that,
for
example,
the
mistreatment
they
experienced
does
not
rise
to
the
level
of
actionable
abusive
conduct,
or
that
there
aren’t
enough
co-clerk
complainants
for
them
to
be
successful.
Outrageously,
in
instances
where
clerks
worked
up
the
courage
to
file
either
an
EDR
or
a
JC&D
Act
complaint,
DWRs
have
told
them
one
complaint
was
sufficient.
It’s
not.
The
two
processes
have
different
goals
—
one,
redress
for
clerks
and
the
other,
accountability
for
abusive
judges.
But
a
clerk
would
not
know
that
if
their
only
contact
is
a
DWR
intentionally
trying
to
mislead
them.
It’s
not
a
DWR’s
job
to
advise
clerks
whether
or
not
to
file
complaints,
especially
when
they
lack
proper
training
to
do
so.
Clerks
should
view
DWR
advice
with
skepticism,
since
the
judiciary
is
heavily
incentivized
to
keep
their
complaint
numbers
low
so
they
can
continue
to
falsely
claim
they
do
not
have
a
misconduct
problem.
DWRs
and
circuit
executives
also
pressure
clerks
to
withdraw
complaints
they
filed,
threatening
them
—
explicitly
or
implicitly
—
with
retaliation,
including
termination.
After
all,
clerks
are
at-will
employees
with
no
guarantee
of
employment.
So,
when
unrepresented
clerks
are
told
they
should
be
glad
they
were
reassigned,
and
their
complaints
will
likely
be
dismissed,
the
subtext
is:
Withdraw
your
complaint
or
be
fired.
To
be
clear,
these
actions
by
AO
employees
are
unethical
—
perhaps
actionable
by
state
bars,
of
questionable
legality,
and
outside
their
scope
of
authority.
But
they’re
doing
exactly
what
the
judiciary
wants
them
to
—
dissuading
clerks
from
filing,
deflating
and
misrepresenting
misconduct
data,
and
protecting
the
judiciary
against
“inconvenient”
complaints.
The
judiciary
is
suppressing
misconduct
data
and
gaslighting
the
public.
Hardly
anyone
bothers
to
question
why
their
complaint
data
are
suspiciously
low,
given
that
more
than
1,100
life-tenured,
unaccountable
federal
judges
supervise
law
clerks,
yet
just
seven
EDR
complaints
were
filed
by
clerks
during
the
two-year
period
between
2021
and
2023.
The
judiciary
accomplishes
this
not
just
by
scuttling
complaints,
but
also
because,
when
law
clerks
confide
“informally”
in
a
DWR
about
mistreatment,
it’s
not
documented
anywhere.
The
judiciary
does
not
collect
and
report
any
data
on
“informal
advice,”
the
most-utilized
aspect
of
the
EDR
Plan
—
when
a
mistreated
clerk
confides
in
a
judiciary
point
of
contact
(typically
the
DWR).
We
do
not
know
how
often
clerks
seek
advice
from
DWRs,
nor
the
outcomes
of
those
conversations.
To
be
clear:
DWRs
have
information
about
judicial
misconduct
that
would
point
to
a
much
broader
problem,
but
they
are
not
require
to
disclose
this
data
publicly
—
or
even
to
the
Office
of
Judicial
Integrity.
DWRs
know
which
judges
mistreat
clerks,
but
even
though
it
could
help
the
judiciary
discipline
abusive
judges
and
protect
future
clerks
against
mistreatment,
they
do
not
disclose
it.
I’ve
dedicated
my
career
to
solving
these
challenges.
They
are
not
unsolvable.
But
structural
problems
require
structural
solutions,
including:
-
The
Judiciary
Accountability
Act
(JAA),
which
would
not
only
extend
federal
anti-discrimination
protections
to
judiciary
employees,
but
would
also
revise
the
judicial
complaint
process,
so
misconduct
investigations
can
continue
even
after
judges
retire
or
resign; -
Amending
the
JC&D
Act,
or
its
rules,
so
investigations
can
continue
even
after
judges
step
down; -
Neutral,
third-party
investigators
should
investigate
misconduct
complaints,
giving
clerks
confidence
their
complaints
will
be
taken
seriously
and
robustly
investigated; -
Hiring
impartial
law
clerk
points
of
contact
who
represent
clerks’
interests,
not
the
judiciary’s; -
Impartial,
secure
reporting
channels; -
Outside
congressional
oversight
over
the
judiciary,
including
hearings
and
investigations,
to
hold
the
judiciary’s
feet
to
the
fire
and
insist
on
benchmarks
for
progress;
and
more
robust
data
collection
and
reporting
requirements
as
a
condition
of
the
judiciary’s
annually
apportioned
budget.
Sadly,
most
of
these
are
unlikely
in
the
near
future,
due
to
congressional
intransigence
and
a
proudly
unaccountable
federal
judiciary.
That’s
why
the
onus
is
on
law
clerks
to
file
complaints
and
speak
with
the
press.
Some
will
say
it’s
not
a
survivor’s
responsibility
to
speak
out.
But
if
you
don’t
report
the
mistreatment
you
experienced,
you
allow
the
judge
to
get
away
with
mistreating
you,
and
you
perpetuate
a
status
quo
where
abusive
judges
mistreat
clerks
with
impunity.
I
regularly
advise
clerks
that
the
best
way
to
protect
themselves
against
retaliation
is
to
do
what
I
did:
file
a
complaint.
This
formally
documents
the
mistreatment,
in
case
the
judge
retaliates
later.
And
it’s
how
you
might
negotiate
an
agreement
with
the
judge
to
preclude
them
from
giving
negative
references.
But
there’s
a
toxic
culture
of
silence
and
fear
surrounding
the
judiciary,
perpetuated
by
our
risk-averse,
hierarchical
legal
profession.
Most
fellow
lawyers
advise
mistreated
clerks
to
keep
their
heads
down,
stay
silent,
and
move
on.
Sadly,
clerks
don’t
realize
that
those
giving
this
advice
—
whether
intentionally
or
unintentionally
—
perpetuate
the
status
quo.
I
was
given
the
same
advice;
I
just
didn’t
listen.
Because
it’s
terrible,
cowardly
advice.
And
I
don’t
regret
my
choices.
The
headwinds
against
reporting
are
undoubtedly
daunting:
but
you
miss
100%
of
the
shots
you
don’t
take
and,
if
you
don’t
report,
you
will
not
get
redress,
and
you
will
live
in
fear.
In
fact,
it’s
empowering
to
speak
out.
You
signal
to
other
clerks
that
they
are
not
alone.
Whenever
I
speak
with
mistreated
clerks,
I’m
struck
by
the
incredible
power
that
abusive
judges
have
conferred
upon
them.
Because
clerks
now
have
the
opportunity
to
share
their
experiences
and
hold
abusive
judges
accountable,
in
a
way
few
have
historically
been
brave
enough
to.
And,
speaking
to
the
press
can
help
prevent
a
judge
from
effectively
retaliating
against
you
because
once
they’ve
been
publicly
discredited,
their
word
won’t
be
worth
much
to
prospective
employers.
Clerks
are
better-positioned
to
convince
prospective
employers
not
to
hold
a
judge’s
word
in
high
regard
if
there’s
a
record
of
the
judge’s
misconduct.
Few
would
dare
discredit
the
word
of
a
brave
clerk
who
has
gone
to
such
a
self-sacrificing
extent
to
protect
others
by
speaking
out.
The
future
of
the
judiciary
is
in
clerks’
hands
—
to
help
ensure
the
mistreatment
they
experienced
does
not
happen
to
future
clerks.
It’s
time
to
hold
the
judiciary’s
feet
to
the
fire
and
spark
a
#MeToo
movement
in
the
judiciary.
There
is
no
longer
a
stigma
around
these
issues.
As
one
judge
told
me
a
few
years
ago,
speaking
out
is
brave,
powerful,
and
impactful.
This
can
be
the
year
that
we
force
meaningful
change
through
a
groundswell
of
complaints
and
reporting,
public
outcry,
and
sustained
pressure.
This
is
not
just
a
clerkship
transparency
movement:
it’s
a
revolution.
Silence
is
complicity.
More
than
most
other
workplaces,
the
judiciary
is
betting
on
clerks’
silence.
By
holding
the
most
powerful,
least
accountable
branch
of
government
to
account
for
misconduct,
clerks
can
help
transform
the
most
dangerous
white-collar
workplace
in
America,
to
one
that
actually
reflects
a
commitment
to
fair
and
impartial
justice
—
including
justice
for
clerks.
Aliza
Shatzman
is
the
President
and
Founder
of The
Legal
Accountability
Project,
a
nonprofit
aimed
at
ensuring
that
law
clerks
have
positive
clerkship
experiences,
while
extending
support
and
resources
to
those
who
do
not.
She
regularly
writes
and
speaks
about
judicial
accountability
and
clerkships.
Reach
out
to
her
via
email
at [email protected] and
follow
her
on
Twitter
@AlizaShatzman.