Last June, a federal judge in
Manhattan ruled that the Department of Justice defied the Constitution when it
pressured accounting firm KPMG to stop paying attorney’s fees for several of its
employees and to fire those who refused to cooperate with the department. In
September, both the House and Senate held hearings on the Justice Department’s
post-Enron practice of requiring corporations to waive attorney-client privilege
if they wish to be regarded as cooperating with department investigations.
Although the wisdom of these policies may be debated, a more
pertinent question is why corporations comply with such demands. The answer is
that they have no choice. Under federal law, a corporation is criminally liable
for the actions employees take within the scope of their employment. It makes no
difference whether the employees are acting in contravention of corporate
policy, whether they have been specifically instructed not to act as they did,
or whether the corporation did everything humanly possible to prevent the
criminal activity. When an employee violates the law, the corporation is guilty
as well.
Because corporations whose employees break the law have no
defense, they can protect themselves only by convincing the Justice Department
not to indict them. Yet, this often means knuckling under to the department’s
demands. Thus, the legal standard for corporate criminal liability essentially
conscripts corporations into becoming deputy prosecutors.
Rather than criticizing the Justice Department for using the
tools the law puts into its hands, perhaps we should ask why we punish
corporations in the first place. It cannot be for purposes of retribution: A
corporation cannot be imprisoned, only fined. Corporate fines are ultimately
paid by the corporation’s shareholders. But the defining characteristic of the
modern publicly traded corporation is the separation of ownership and control.
Shareholders do not control the actions of corporate employees. So, imposing
criminal punishment on a corporation, rather than on the employees who committed
the offense, is punishing the innocent.
As the citizens of most tyrannical regimes can tell you, great
deterrent value lies in threatening to punish the innocent. There is no doubt we
could reduce the amount of crime committed by teenagers by threatening to punish
their parents for their offenses, a tactic that some Americans advocate today.
Threatening to punish not only a firm’s shareholders, but all of its employees
(whether guilty of wrongdoing or not) may reduce the incidence of employee
lawbreaking. But in our system of criminal justice, deterrence is supposed to
come from punishing the guilty, not the innocent.
Most people love the abstract idea of punishing greedy,
impersonal corporations. The legal travails of fallen Enron executives unfold
like morality plays on the evening news, validating their suspicions of powerful
corporate cadres. They might feel differently, however, if they reflected on the
fact that corporate entities cannot be punished. Only people can be punished.
The question before us is never what, but always who, to punish.
While most Americans agree that the guilty deserve punishment,
surely we also agree that those who not only did not violate the law themselves,
but did everything in their power to prevent the lawbreaking, do not. Yet this
is precisely what we do when we authorize the punishment of entire corporations
for the actions of individual employees. This may or may not be effective, but
it is certainly inconsistent with the principles of a free society.
If we must prosecute corporations, we should at least require
corporate wrongdoing for corporate punishment. For a corporation to be guilty of
an offense, we could require that that corporation encouraged, or at least
failed to discourage, its employees’ criminal behavior. Ethical corporations
would then have a defense when charged with a crime. Such corporations could
decide whether to help the Justice Department prosecute its employees on the
basis of objective criteria rather than on fear of an indictment, against which,
if its employees have misbehaved, there is no defense.
In the current political climate, a proposal to relax the standard of
corporate criminal liability is a radical one. But it says something about the
anticorporate nature of the contemporary zeitgeist that a proposal to allow
corporations to defend themselves by showing that they did everything they could
to prevent their employees from breaking the law could be regarded as
radical.
 | John Hasnas teaches ethics and law at Georgetown University and is
the author of Trapped: When
Acting Ethically Is Against the Law. |
|