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In RadLAX Gateway Hotel, LLC v Amalgamated Bank, the Supreme Court’s statutory interpretation focuses on an emerging theme of its bankruptcy jurisprudence: the proper domain of the bankruptcy judge. While one might expect the Court to approach that question of domain as it has for administrative agencies, that is not the approach taken. This article explores the Court’s approach to bankruptcy’s domain. In doing so, we connect three principal strands of the Court’s bankruptcy jurisprudence. The first strand, embodied in Butner v United States, centers on the idea that the bankruptcy forum must vindicate nonbankruptcy rights. The second, most recently addressed in Stern v Marshall, focuses on the limits of bankruptcy judges in deciding and issuing final judgment on the issues before them. Bankruptcy judges must limit themselves to deciding issues central to the administration of the bankruptcy process. RadLAX is the continuation of a third strand that makes it plain that the Court reads ambiguous provisions of the Bankruptcy Code to narrow the range of decisions over which the bankruptcy judge may exercise her discretion — at least when the exercise of that discretion might impact nonbankruptcy rights. The resulting bankruptcy jurisprudence is in stark contrast with the Court’s approach in administrative law. This paper attempts to make sense of this state of affairs and connect it with the realities of bankruptcy practice today.

In both Chrysler and General Motors, the government was, among other things, a large creditor exercising control over its debtor and pushing for a speedy sale of the assets. Together the two cases capture the issues central to large Chapter 11 cases today. The debate over speedy sales of businesses in Chapter 11 is over. Sales are now the norm in large reorganizations. Instead of asking whether there should be sales in bankruptcy, we need to ask how to police various forms of abuse. Three years after the fact, we can begin to draw some conclusions about the reorganizations of Chrysler and General Motors. The government’s use of the bankruptcy laws to inject tens of billions into two of the country’s largest automobile companies had its intended effect. At the start of 2009, General Motors and Chrysler were bleeding to death. 2 Maintaining either business as a going concern required a massive infusion of capital no one in the private market was willing to provide. As a result of the government’s intervention, the basic structure of the American automobile industry was preserved.

Over the last few years, reorganization practice has undergone a massive change. A new device — the restructuring support agreement — has transformed Chapter 11 negotiations. This puts reorganization law at a crossroads. Chapter 11’s commitment to a nonmarket restructuring with a rigid priority system requires bankruptcy judges to police bargaining in bankruptcy, but the Bankruptcy Code gives them relatively little explicit guidance about how they should adjust when a new practice alters the bargaining environment. This essay shows that long-established principles of bankruptcy should lead judges to focus not on how these agreements affect what each party receives, but rather on how they can interfere with the flow of information needed to apply Chapter 11’s substantive rules.

When a firm encounters financial distress, there is a significant possibility that, at some point, the firm itself should be shut down and its assets put to better use. But Chapter 11 and indeed all market-mimicking reorganization regimes other than a speedy auction entrust the shutdown decision to a bankruptcy judge who lacks information and expertise, as well as the ability to control the timing of her decisions. Understanding the costs of entrusting the shutdown decision to a bankruptcy judge is central to assessing any law of corporate reorganizations. This article models the shutdown decision as the exercise of a real option. The model suggests that the shutdown decision may loom so large in the early parts of the bankruptcy case that it erases any significant difference between Chapter 11 and many alternative market-mimicking regimes. All these regimes take more time than mandatory auctions and thus increase the cost of taking the shutdown decision away from a market actor. Moreover, the real option itself gives parties an incentive to withhold information. Only a system of mandatory auctions both limits the amount of time the shutdown option resides with an inexpert decision maker and forces insiders to give that decision maker sufficient information to value the option

Section 1129(b) of the Bankruptcy Code gives each class of unsecured claims the right to insist that a reorganization plan be "fair and equitable" and to prevent those junior to them from receiving "property" on account of their old interests. The Bankruptcy Code is often said to embrace a rule of absolute priority, but if it does so, it is only through these restrictions. Hence, the meaning of the words "fair and equitable" and "property" is the terrain on which priority battles are contested. One must choose among different methods of statutory interpretation. One can derive priority rules by examining the judicial evolution of the words "fair and equitable" before they were incorporated into the 1978 Bankruptcy Reform Act. Alternatively, one can look to the word "property," and derive priority rules by trying to define this word. Opinions in the most recent Supreme Court case on this issue, 203 N. LaSalle, exemplify these competing approaches. Using these opinions as its starting point, this paper explores the way in which priority rules in bankruptcy have evolved over time and shows how the absolute priority rule is harder to derive from the statute and hence more contingent, positively and normatively, than commonly supposed.

Bankruptcy scholarship is largely a debate about the comparative merits of a mandatory regime on one hand and bankruptcy by free design on the other. By the standard account, the current law of corporate reorganization is mandatory. Various rules that cannot be avoided ensure that investors’ actions are limited and they do not exercise their rights against specialized assets in a way that destroys the value of a business as a whole. These rules solve collective action problems and reduce the risk of bargaining failure. But there are costs to a mandatory regime. In particular, investors cannot design their rights to achieve optimal monitoring as they could in a system of bankruptcy by free design. In this paper, we suggest that the academic debate has missed a fundamental feature of the law. Bankruptcy operates on legal entities, not on firms in the economic sense. For this reason, sophisticated investors do not face a mandatory regime at all. The ability of investors to place assets in separate entities gives them the ability to create specific withdrawal rights in the event the firm encounters financial distress. There is nothing mandatory about rules like the automatic stay when assets can be partitioned off into legal entities that are beyond the reach of the bankruptcy judge. Thus, by partitioning assets of one economic enterprise into different legal entities, investors can create a tailored bankruptcy regime. In this way, legal entities serve as building blocks that can be combined to create specific and varied but transparent investor withdrawal rights. This regime of tailored bankruptcy has been unrecognized and underappreciated and may be preferable to both mandatory and free design regimes. By allowing a limited number of investors to opt out of bankruptcy in a particular, discrete, and visible way, investors as a group may be able to both limit the risk of bargaining failure and at the same time enjoy the disciplining effect that a withdrawal right brings with it.

The Dodd-Frank financial reform legislation creates an “Orderly Liquidation Authority” (OLA) that shares many features in common with the Bankruptcy Code. This is easy to overlook because the legislation uses a language and employs a decision-maker (both borrowed from bank regulation) that will seem foreign to bankruptcy lawyers. Our task in this essay is to identify the core congruities between OLA and the Code. In doing so, we highlight important differences and assess both their constitutionality and policy objectives. We conclude with a few thoughts on the likelihood that OLA will contribute to market stability.

WHEN Eastern Airlines filed its bankruptcy petition in March 1989, its future was bleak. For decades, it had systematically invested in the wrong airplanes, beginning with a commitment to propeller aircraft in the late 1950s. Its cost structure was higher than its competitors. It had failed to find a viable market niche in a deregulated environment, an environment in which the hub-and-spoke system brought significant economies of scale. Eastern had already sold its most valuable assets, such as its shuttle between Washington, D.C., and New York, and its entire work force was on strike. Moreover, its service was poorly regarded, and it had little goodwill with the general public. If Chapter 11 mandated that the assets of a publicly traded firm be swiftly sold, however, someone would have bought Eastern's airplanes and landing gates for an amount sufficient to provide a dividend to the preferred stockholders. Instead, the managers of Eastern and later a court-appointed trustee used the umbrella of bankruptcy law to try to keep the airline intact as a going concern. Over the next two years, Eastern lost over a billion dollars. The airline began liquidation only when its assets were insufficient to pay the administrative expenses, such as lawyers' fees, involved in running the bankruptcy case.1 Financial News Network (FNN) entered Chapter 11 in early 1991. Shortly afterward, a joint venture between Dow Jones and Group W offered to pay $90 million for FNN's assets. A unit of NBC countered with a bid of $115 million. The bankruptcy court ordered an auction of the firm's assets. NBC eventually won with a bid of $146 million and

WHEN the managers of RJR-Nabisco announced that they wanted to take the company private, the value of its bonds dropped by $500 million in a single day. The manager's plan, as in most buyouts, called for dramatically increasing the debt-equity ratio of the firm. Instead of holding a senior interest in a firm that had assets greatly in excess of its liabilities, the bondholders found that they would be left with an interest in a firm with the same assets but encumbered with much more debt. They would have claims against a firm with a greater risk of becoming insolvent and of being unable to pay its creditors in full. The same promise from a riskier debtor is worth less-in this case, it might seem, $500 million less. Transactions in which a firm is sold and becomes substantially more leveraged were commonplace in the late 1980s. They accounted for over 20 percent of takeover activity in the United States and totaled almost $50 billion a year.' The legal rights of prebuyout creditors will be a focal point of litigation in any of these transactions that unravel in the 1990s, as some already have and more inevitably will. Before they lend, creditors can insist on a variety of event risk covenants such as "poison puts" that allow them to accelerate the firm's obligations to repay in the event that the firm dramatically changes its capital structure. Poison puts and other clauses, however, aid only those who have them. Those parties who do not, like parties to any other agreement, must look to the background legal rules to flesh out their obligations. The rules governing the rights of the bondholders fall within

THE Prisoner's Dilemma casts a shadow over all who want to trade. Two parties may desire that a transaction go forward, but each may fear that the other will not perform. The parties may rationally decide either not to make promises or not to keep them, even though each would be better off if both made promises and kept them. Take the simplest case. I have a book that I want to sell for $10; you would like to buy it for $10.' The trade makes each of us better off, but we have conflicting schedules and can never be in the same place at the same time. I must part with the book before I know that you have parted with the $10. Similarly, you must part with the $10 before you know that I have parted with the book. We may not have an incentive to keep our promises. When I decide whether to send the book, you have already decided whether to send the cash, but I do not know your decision. I look at the two possibilities. First, I examine the course I should take if you have already decided to break your promise. In this event, I should keep the book. I do not want to be left without either the book or the $10. I then determine my best course if you have already decided to sent the $10. Here, too, I should keep the book. I am better off with both the book and the $10 than I am with just the $10. Whether I part with the book has nothing to do with whether you part with the $10. Keeping the book is the optimal strategy

Bankruptcy law does not exist in a vacuum, yet one cannot spend much time reading in the field without noting that few judges or scholars have taken this observation to heart.' Too many seem to think that a bankruptcy proceeding provides, in the main, an essentially unlimited opportunity to do what appears at the moment to be good, just, or fair without regard to the reasons for having a system of bankruptcy laws in the first place.2 A close study of the present controversy over the adequate protection of secured creditors illustrates the shallowness of much of the recent discussion of bankruptcy law and the consequences of a failure to

In a Chapter 11 reorganization, senior creditors are entitled to insist upon being paid in full before anyone junior to them receives anything. In practice, however, departures from such “absolute priority” are commonplace. Explaining these deviations has been a central preoccupation of reorganization scholars for decades. By the standard law-andeconomics account, deviations from absolute priority arise because well-positioned insiders take advantage of cumbersome procedures and inept judges. In this paper, we suggest that a far simpler and more benign force dominates bargaining in reorganization cases. “Deviations” from absolute priority are inevitable even in a world completely committed to respecting priority as long as asset values are uncertain. Uncertainty accompanies any valuation procedure. Bargaining in corporate reorganizations takes place in the shadow of this uncertainty, and standard models of litigation and settlement show that valuation uncertainty alone can explain many of the departures from absolute priority we see in large corporate reorganizations. Even where rational and well-informed senior investors expect the absolute priority rule to be strictly enforced, they must account for the uncertainty associated with any valuation. The possibility of an unexpectedly high appraisal will cause them to offer apparently out-of-the-money junior investors contingent interests in the reorganized business. The debate over absolute priority, the central principle of modern corporate reorganization law, has been misdirected for decades. It has failed to recognize that a substantive rule of absolute priority does not lead to an absolute priority outcome. A coherent account of absolute priority must incorporate relative priority. It must take account of the option value implicit in the junior investors’ right to insist on an appraisal. This paper offers an explanation for one of the most important and persistent puzzles in corporate reorganizations. In a Chapter 11 reorganization, senior creditors are, in principle, entitled to insist upon “absolute priority.” They have a right to be paid in full before junior investors receive anything. This “fixed principle” has been the foundation of our corporate reorganization laws for decades. In practice, however, departures from ab

International News Service v. Associated Press held that a wire service had the right to prevent rivals from copying its bulletin. It established the doctrine of misappropriation and justified it on the ground that someone that invests in gathering and disseminating information is entitled to the fruits of its labor. The Supreme Court, however, missed the strong anti-competitive undercurrents in the case. INS and AP were not conventional rivals. The most important AP member (and the person who stood to gain the most from AP's anticompetitive activities) - also owned INS. Far from being about first principles, the case illustrates how common-law reasoning quickly loses its moorings in the absence of a bona fide dispute. The long-recognized failing of the case - that it sets out a principle with no obvious boundaries - was deeply embedded in the facts and illustrates, even in this iconic environment, that the domains of intellectual property and antitrust cannot be easily separated. Portions of this paper are adapted from a chapter to be published in JANE C. GINSBURG AND ROCHELLE C. DREYFUSS, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY STORIES (forthcoming, Foundation Press, 2005).

At the time that Enron filed for bankruptcy, it had substantial assets, thousands of creditors, an opaque capital structure, and more than a whiff of fraud. By the traditional account, Enron is a prototypical example of a firm with problems that a law of corporate reorganizations is designed to solve. Like the 19th century receiverships of the great railroads, the reorganization of Enron could have allowed creditors and others to negotiate with each other and find a way to preserve the value of the firm as a going concern at the same time misdeeds are uncovered and losses are allocated among the different players. Negotiations aimed at preserving Enron's value as a going concern never took place, however. As is increasingly the case in large Chapter 11s, Enron's assets were sold quickly, most within a few weeks or months of the filing. The decision as to how to deploy Enron's assets lay not in the court but in the new owners. After selling the assets, the bankruptcy court quickly turned to what courts do best - sorting out complex and perhaps conflicting legal entitlements. This pattern of a prompt sale followed by litigation over the distribution of the proceeds reflects a dramatic change in large firm bankruptcy practice. It suggests that we should no longer think of Chapter 11 as a collective forum in which the interested parties gather to bargain over the fate of the firm.

Perhaps within the next decade, the technology of "reanimation" will allow film producers to cast any actor, living or dead, in any role. In this respect, there will soon be no difference between Humphrey Bogart and Mickey Mouse. Soon a sequel to the Maltese Falcon can star Bogart as he was in 1940. The legal rules that will operate in this environment are still being shaped. The discussion to date has centered on the need to ensure that intellectual property rights are shaped in such a way that preserves a large public domain. Such rights should not limit the ability of new artists and producers to create new work. This paper suggests that the existing debate misses the mark. Legal rules ought to take account of the way in which our cultural icons are both finite and privately owned. They need to be shepherded. Rights of publicity and other intellectual property rights are like any other scarce resource. We count on those who own them to manage them well. As with every property regime, what matters most is for rights to be defined clearly and their transfer easy.

Until the firm is sold or a plan of reorganization is confirmed, Chapter 11 entrusts a judge with the decision of whether to keep a firm as a going concern or to shut it down. The judge revisits this liquidation decision multiple times. The key is to make the correct decision at the optimal time. This paper models this decision as the exercise of a real option and shows that it depends critically on particular types of information about the firm and its industry. Liquidations take place too soon if we merely compare the liquidation value of the assets with the expected earnings of the firm. Moreover, existing law undermines effective decisionmaking. Even though the judge makes the liquidation decision, a number of rules prevent the judge from controlling the timing of the decision, and those who do control it lack the incentive to ensure it is made at the optimal time. The paper introduces a framework that can illuminate many areas of law, such as summary judgment motions, parole, and agency rule making.

Elizabeth Warren has presented a view of bankruptcy that, while rarely as well articulated, is widely shared. The virtues of Warren's paper, like those of the rest of her work, are easy to identify. Her style is sharp and penetrating. She writes with insight and wit, and she demands that all analysis be held against the light of empirical data-the brighter the better. Warren has put forward a critique of the work I have done with Thomas Jackson that merits a response both because of its own strengths and because it captures misgivings other traditional bankruptcy scholars have shared about our work. There is much in Warren's view of bankruptcy policy that I admire and agree with. Indeed, to understand our disagreement, it is necessary first to recognize the extent of our common ground. Warren and I agree that, in the main, existing bankruptcy law is consistent with sound bankruptcy policy. The trustee should have the powers of a hypothetical lien creditor; the trustee should be able to set aside voidable preferences and reject executory contracts; creditors (including secured creditors) should be stayed from asserting their substantive claims after the filing of a bankruptcy petition. Warren and I also agree that victims of nonmanifested torts should have their rights against the firm recognized in bankruptcy. On what in my view is a different front, Warren and I also think existing laws do not adequately protect many, such as workers, who are affected when a firm fails. Warren and I both have doubts about whether secured credit brings benefits that outweigh its rather obvious costs. I am more inclined than Warren to think that the institution is one worth having, but we agree that the issue is not clear. Warren's attack on the theory of bankruptcy that I have developed with Thomas Jackson goes to methodology. Jackson and I claim that we can isolate bankruptcy issues (such as whether the

Congress's exercise of the bankruptcy power was far from inevitable. Indeed, for much of the nineteenth century, there was no federal bankruptcy statute at all. That we might live in a world without bankruptcy law or any similar collective procedure is not as far-fetched or as ridiculous as it might seem at first glance to those of us who are immersed in its intricacies every day. This article will take problems that have been the focus of much of the recent debate in bankruptcy law and ask how these issues would be approached if no bankruptcy law existed.

Traditional approaches to corporate governance focus exclusively on shareholders and neglect the large and growing role of creditors. Today’s creditors craft elaborate covenants that give them a large role in the affairs of the corporation. While they do not exercise their rights in sunny times when things are going well, these are not the times that matter most. When a business stumbles, creditors typically enjoy powers that public shareholders never have, such as the ability to replace the managers and install those more to their liking. Creditors exercise these powers even when the business is far from being insolvent and continues to pay its debts. Bankruptcy provides no sanctuary, as senior lenders ensure that their powers either go unchecked or are enhanced. The powers that modern lenders wield rival in importance the hostile takeover in disciplining poor or underperforming managers. This Essay explores these powers and begins the task of integrating this lever of corporate governance into the modern account of corporate law.

The law of corporate reorganizations is conventionally justified as a way to preserve a firm’s going-concern value: Specialized assets in a particular firm are worth more together in that firm than anywhere else. This paper shows that this notion is mistaken. Its flaw is that it lacks a welldeveloped understanding of the nature of a firm. Initially, it is easy to confuse size with specialization and overstate the extent to which assets are dedicated to a particular enterprise. Even when such dedicated assets exist, they often do not need to stay in the same firm. As Coase taught us, as the costs of contracting go down, so too does the value of keeping assets in a particular firm. But even when specialized assets must be kept inside a firm, two other forces limit the need for a traditional law of corporate reorganizations. Capital structures are increasingly designed with financial distress in mind. For these firms, control rights shift from one set of investors to another as the firm encounters difficulty. Such firms either never file for bankruptcy, or, if they do, it is only to vindicate the predetermined allocation of control rights. Even where control rights are not sensibly allocated, a quick sale of the firm restores order. When firms can be sold as going concerns, the need for the traditional negotiated plan of reorganization disappears. The vast majority of firms in financial distress never enter bankruptcy. Today the Chapter 11 of a large firm is an auction of the assets, followed by litigation over the proceeds. To the extent we understand the law of corporate reorganizations as providing a collective forum in which creditors and their common debtor fashion a future for a firm that would otherwise be torn apart by financial distress, we may safely conclude that its era has come to an end. * Harry A. Bigelow Distinguished Service Professor, University of Chicago Law School. Forthcoming in the Stanford Law Review. ** Associate Dean for Academic Affairs and Professor of Law, Vanderbilt Law School. We thank Barry Adler, Marcus Cole, Michael Hilgers, Richard Levin, Alan Littmann, Eric Posner, Mark Ramseyer, and David Skeel for their help. Prior versions of this Article were presented at the University of Chicago Law School and the Annual Meeting of the American Law and Economics Association. For his support and insight throughout this project, we are especially grateful to our colleague Edward Morrison. We also thank the John M. Olin Foundation, the Sarah Scaife Foundation, the Lynde & Harry Bradley Foundation, and the Dean’s Fund at Vanderbilt for research support. Baird & Rasmussen, page 2

Debates about the law of corporate reorganizations often seem to be debates about facts.' From this it might seem that good empirical research can resolve the large differences that exist between competing camps of bankruptcy scholarship. First-rate empirical work has, of course, been done.2 It has also changed the way some have thought about bankruptcy law.3 Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to think that empirical studies will

While reviewing "Game Theory and the Law" by Baird, Gertner and Picker, the essay provides a self-contained, nontechnical introduction to modern noncooperative game theory.

A BANKRUPTCY proceeding is a day of reckoning for all parties with ownership interests in an insolvent firm. Ownership interests are valued, the assets are sold, and the proceeds are divided among the owners. Bankruptcy proceedings take one of two forms, depending on whether ownership rights to the assets are sold on the open market to one or more third parties or whether ownership rights to the assets are transferred to the old owners in return for the cancellation of their prebankruptcy entitlements. The first kind of bankruptcy proceeding, a liquidation, is governed by Chapter 7 of the Bankruptcy Code; the second kind, a reorganization, is governed by Chapter 11. A bankruptcy proceeding always involves a sale of assets followed by a division of the proceeds among the existing owners. In a Chapter 7 proceeding the sale is real; in a Chapter 11 proceeding the sale is hypothetical.' An analysis of the law of corporate reorganizations should properly begin with a discussion of whether all those with rights to the assets of a firm (be they bondholders, stockholders, or workers) would bargain for one if they had the opportunity to negotiate at the time of their initial investment.2 Properly understood, a bankruptcy proceeding itself can be

IN 1600,' a Hampshire farmer named Pierce conveyed his sheep to his creditor Twyne to satisfy a preexisting debt. Twyne, however, allowed Pierce to remain in possession of the sheep, to shear them, and to mark them as his own. When a sheriff tried to seize the sheep under a writ of execution on behalf of another creditor, Twyne forcibly resisted, maintaining that the sheep were his. Edward Coke, then attorney general, brought a criminal action against Twyne in the Star Chamber. That court held that because the transfer to Twyne was secret it was fraudulent and therefore void.2 Few principles of Anglo-American law have been so long-lived and so widely held, as the one in Twyne's Case.3 The principle that secret inter

defaults, he will require a higher interest rate from the debtor.' In order to reduce this uncertainty, and thereby to facilitate secured credit, the Uniform Commerical Code normally requires a creditor either to take possession of the property or to make a public filing, if he wants a security interest in his debtor's property that is effective against competing property claimants.2 This requirement, coupled with a simple "first-in-time" rule, enables a creditor who wants to lend money on a secured basis to assume that, if the property in question is in the debtor's possession and if no other creditors have filed a financing statement, his claim to that property can have priority over those of other existing and future creditors. The Code assumes that this benefit outweighs the costs imposed upon secured parties by the requirement that they take possession or file.3

That information once published should be presumptively free for all to use is a commonplace of intellectual property law. As Benjamin Kaplan has observed, "if man has any 'natural' rights, not the least must be a right to imitate his fellows, and thus to reap where he has not sown. Education, after all, proceeds from a kind of mimicry, and 'progress,' if it is not entirely an illusion, depends on generous indulgence of copying."' It might thus seem to follow that judges should have only modest powers to find that individuals have common law intellectual property rights. Common law judges, however, often discover such rights under the branch of unfair competition law known as misappropriation.

During the 1970's, William Lee Kovacs operated Chem-Dyne Corporation, an industrial and hazardous waste disposal business in Hamilton, Ohio. In 1976, Ohio's Environmental Protection Agency and Department of Natural Resources charged Kovacs and ChemDyne with polluting Ohio waters with pesticides and industrial wastes. In 1979, a state court enjoined Kovacs from causing further pollution and also required him to remove all industrial wastes from the premises of Chem-Dyne within twelve months. Kovacs did not comply with the injunction and continued to dump wastes on the site.' In 1980, Kovacs filed a bankruptcy petition. The Sixth Circuit subsequently held that Kovacs' obligation to clean up the toxic wastes gave rise to a "claim" within the meaning of the Bankruptcy Code and could be discharged.2 The Supreme Court granted certiorari, and will decide the case during the October 1984 Term. A number of businesses that have violated state and federal anti