Indirect investor protection makes investing in most public securities safe even without understanding their terms or the underlying business. Special Purpose Acquisition Companies (SPACs) disable this protection by offering two alternative payoffs from the same security, the SPAC share, in the de-SPAC process: the redemption value, or a share in the post-de-SPAC entity. The former is usually higher and chosen by sophisticated repeat players, while unsophisticated investors elect the latter or receive it by default. Before the de-SPAC process, the SPAC share price reflects the higher payoff, such that unsophisticated investors systematically overpay. This overpayment is captured, directly or indirectly, by SPAC sponsors and IPO investors. This allows the latter to make money from SPACs even if SPACs create negative social value.

Legal scholars worry that existing laws cannot adequately regulate large private companies (“unicorns”). At the same time, unicorns seem to be a key part of flourishing markets. Are unicorns a problem that requires solving or a sign that entrepreneurial finance is working? This essay addresses that question by tracking outcomes for the 32 startups that qualified as unicorns when the moniker first emerged. It introduces a new typology of unicorn outcomes to guide policy makers and offers a preliminary hypothesis that private ordering by founders, employees, and investors is proving an effective alternative to ambitious regulatory reform.

Rules are rules and orders are orders, and never the twain shall meet. Generations of scholars and practitioners were taught back in law school that the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) divides the universe of agency action into two exclusive and exhaustive categories: “rulemaking,” which is used for promulgating “rules,” and “adjudication,” which is used for issuing “orders.” Each of those modes of agency action has its formal and informal versions, and some statutes mandate “hybrid” procedures with an intermediate level of formality. But the starting point for analyzing a given agency action is to decide whether that action falls into the “rule” box or the “order” box, which are separate and distinct. That is what then-Professor, now-Justice Elena Kagan taught me back when I took her Administrative Law class as a 2L, and it’s what I’ve taught my students for the last fifteen years. But it’s not quite right. “Rules” and “orders” are not, in fact, completely separate and non-overlapping categories. Sometimes an administrative action that is properly classified as an order contains within it—usually in the portion explaining the order’s legal basis—a statement that qualifies as a rule and ought to be treated as such. The fact that such a rule is embedded within an order does not make it any less of a rule. And that means that the process for formulating an embedded rule counts (or ought to count) as a “rulemaking” under the APA.

Workers in the United States depend on their employers for a host of benefits beyond wages and salary. From retirement benefits to health insurance, from student loan repayment to dependent-care spending plans, from disability benefits to family and medical leave, U.S. employers play a uniquely central role in the financial lives of their employees. Yet not all employers are equally willing or capable of serving as such financial intermediaries. Larger employers commonly offer more and better benefits than smaller employers. In recent years, so-called Professional Employer Organizations (PEOs) have pitched themselves as a private-sector solution to the challenges traditionally faced by smaller employers. PEOs have pioneered and marketed a “co-employment” model pursuant to which a business and the PEO agree to share certain employer rights and responsibilities, with the PEO taking on all of the human resources matters and the client-employer otherwise retaining control over the business. While PEOs respond to long-standing challenges faced by smaller employers and have the potential to increase access to workplace benefits, this Article argues that they also introduce new and significant governance concerns that are not adequately addressed by the existing regulatory framework. Empirical evidence suggests that as currently structured, PEOs may not, in fact, provide “Fortune 500” benefits to employees at smaller companies and may instead lock participating employers into costly benefit bundles and expose them to the risk of unpaid employment taxes and health insurance claims. To protect participants in arrangements where PEOs provide key workplace benefits, this Article recommends strengthening and uniformly applying registration, disclosure and oversight requirements for all non-employer intermediaries, including PEOs. In the longer term, comprehensive retirement reform is needed to account for the transformation of workplace benefits in the United States.

Do foreign lives matter? When? How much? If one nation damages another, what are its obligations, as a matter of law and policy? These questions can be approached and understood in diverse ways, but they are concretized in debates over the “social cost of carbon,” which is sometimes described as the linchpin of national climate policy. The social cost of carbon, meant to capture the damage done by a ton of carbon emissions, helps to determine the stringency of regulations in many domains, including emissions limits on motor vehicles and on stationary sources. In determining the social cost of carbon, agencies must decide whether to use the global number (as chosen by Presidents Barack Obama and Joe Biden) or instead the domestic number (as chosen by President Donald Trump). Use of the global number should be seen as a form of climate change cosmopolitanism, whether the grounding is moral, strategic, or otherwise. Within the constraints of governing statutes, there are four central arguments in favor of using the global figure. (1) The epistemic argument: experts do not know a great deal about the purely domestic harms from climate change, which makes it impossible to generate a purely domestic number. (2) The interconnectedness argument: harms done to U.S. citizens by domestic emissions are not limited to those directly brought about by the incremental increase in temperatures within the territorial boundaries of the United States; they include an assortment of harms to U.S. citizens living abroad and harms to U.S. citizens and interests that come as a result of the cascading effects of harm done to foreigners (including governments, companies, and individuals), which are ultimately felt by U.S. citizens or within the United States. (3) The moral cosmopolitan argument: in deciding on the scope of its regulations, the United States has a moral obligation to take account of the harms it does to non-Americans. (4) The reciprocity argument: if all nations used a domestic figure, all nations would lose; a successful approach to the climate problem requires nations to treat greenhouse gas emissions as a global, and not merely domestic, externality. Neither the epistemic argument nor the incompleteness argument justifies the choice of the global number.

As the Biden Administration works on updating the social cost of carbon (SCC), some economists are urging a different approach, known as the “Marginal Abatement Cost” (MAC) method or the “target-consistent” approach. Rather than attempting to calculate all the damage caused worldwide by each ton of carbon dioxide released into the atmosphere, the MAC approach instead asks: what is the highest amount of money per ton that society will need to be willing to pay if we are going to successfully meet greenhouse gas reduction targets? This approach has the virtue of avoiding the most intractable complexities and uncertainties involved in estimating the SCC, including embedded ethical judgments about the degree to which the interests of future generations should be discounted in comparison to our own and the scope of the relevant “society” across which climate damages should be measured. Nonetheless, the MAC approach has come under fire from cost-benefit purists who argue, first, that it is inappropriate as a matter of good policymaking and, second, that it is prohibited by law. Both claims are at a minimum overstated and arguably outright wrong. As a matter of both legal mandate and good policy, the Biden Administration would do well to avoid the CBA orthodoxy that some commentators advocate. Instead, the Administration should as a matter of good policy—and can as a matter of law—make use of the rich variety of tools in the regulatory decision-making toolbox, including the MAC approach, in developing climate policy.

In 2016, we co-authored a symposium article, The Grass is Not Always Greener: Congressional Dysfunction, Executive Action, and Climate Change in Comparative Perspective, 91 CHI.-KENT L. REV. 139 (2016), that compared the impact of polarization on the process of creating climate change law and policy in the United States and Australia. We found that while the United States relied heavily on administrative regulation because comprehensive climate change legislation could not pass Congress, Australia’s flip-flopping legislation did not offer a demonstrably superior solution. We did not at the time foresee the political changes that would take place in both countries over the five years that followed. The transitions from President Obama to President Trump to President Biden have involved dramatic shifts in regulatory policy at the same time as the same conservative Coalition government has until recently continued to hold power in Australia. This Article revisits our thesis, given these changes, that both forms of government face barriers to effective lawmaking when deep partisan divisions exist. We find that although the politics of particular periods may make one political system more stable in approach than the other, neither country has made consistent progress in addressing the problem of climate change. In addition, subnational governments and other key stakeholders have taken action in both countries when confronted with partisan barriers at the federal level. We conclude that the dramatic regulatory shifts in the United States and the limited regulatory action in Australia over the past five years only bolster the importance of advancing substantive and structural strategies that foster greater cooperation.

In the wake of the Reagan deregulation, America experienced twenty-eight years of regulatory progression, with precious little retrogression. That trend came to a crashing halt during the four years of Donald Trump’s presidency. As a candidate, Trump campaigned on a series of pledges to reverse and undo as much of the work done by Barack Obama as possible. The Trump EPA was particularly active in this effort. In addition to reversing the Clean Power Plan, under Trump the EPA repealed or substantially weakened a number of other important Obama-era regulations, including a substantial increase in fuel economy standards and strict curbs on mercury and other emissions from coal-fired power plants. These regulations would have affected air quality and pollution more generally, but they also would have had a substantial effect on greenhouse gas emissions and thus on climate change. President Biden has promised to reinstate or even strengthen most if not all of the Obama-era regulatory initiatives that Trump eliminated. The EPA and other agencies are already at work on these new regulations. But Biden does not represent the end of history. Barring some seismic shift in political tectonics, some day in the future a Republican will again be elected president on a platform of ignoring climate change, protecting the fossil fuel industries, and reversing the regulatory progress of his or her Democratic predecessors. That president will likely undertake a program of deregulation, much as Trump did. Subsequently, a Democrat will again someday be elected president. That president will likely undertake a program of re-regulation, much has Biden has promised to do. From administration to administration, across terms, regulations will blink into and out of existence. They will become more and less stringent on four, eight, or twelve-year cycles. We are now living in an era of regulatory oscillation.

As the Biden administration attempts to make climate change the focus of many aspects of its domestic and international agenda, an independent federal regulatory agency—the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC)—finds itself at the center of debates over the nation’s energy policies and greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. Under Sections 4 and 5 of the Natural Gas Act of 1938, FERC has the authority and obligation to ensure that rates, charges, and rules relating to interstate natural gas sales and transportation are just, reasonable, and nondiscriminatory. Under Section 7 of the Natural Gas Act, FERC also has the authority to grant certificates for construction and operation of interstate natural gas pipelines that are needed for the “present or future public convenience and necessity.” FERC’s longstanding practice under its 1999 “Policy Statement on Certification of New Natural Gas Facilities” for pipelines is to assess whether there is a “market need” for the proposed pipeline project before addressing other considerations such as adverse impacts on existing pipeline company customers, other pipelines in the market and their customers, and landowners and communities.

In the United States, the primary tool to value greenhouse gas emissions reductions in cost-benefit analysis is the social cost of carbon (SCC), which is a metric that estimates, in monetary terms, the damages associated with climate change. Recently, some prominent public policy experts and scholars have proposed that a “marginal abatement cost” (MAC) could be used as an alternative to the SCC. Indeed, some jurisdictions, such as the United Kingdom, have integrated MAC-based approaches into climate policymaking. This Article provides conceptual clarity about these metrics, focusing on how a MAC-based threshold could sensibly be used in climate policy, and explaining why it is not a substitute for the SCC. We relate the current conversation about valuing greenhouse gas emissions to the longstanding debate over the use of prices versus quantities in climate policy formulation and the more generic regulatory question of when it is appropriate to employ cost-benefit analysis versus cost-effectiveness analysis. In addition, we use illustrative hypothetical policy contexts to explain the roles that these tools should play.