Soon
after
I
launched
The
Legal
Accountability
Project
(LAP),
I
met
with
a
Washington
University
in
St.
Louis
School
of
Law
(WashU
Law)
professor
to
talk
about
LAP’s
work.
There’s
no
love
lost
between
me
and
my
alma
mater:
after
I
was
harassed
and
fired
from
my
clerkship,
I
learned
WashU
Law
administrators
and
professors
knew
the
judge
who
harassed
me
had
harassed
another
alum
a
few
years
earlier
—
but
chose
not
to
share
that
with
me
before
I
accepted
the
clerkship.
I
could
have
gotten
over
that,
but
for
the
fact
that
three
separate
deans
subsequently
told
me
they
“don’t
believe”
I
was
mistreated
by
the
judge
I
worked
for.
And
the
law
school
cancelled
four
LAP
events
in
just
three
years,
including
one
with
another
alumnus
who’s
a
federal
judge.
So,
it
was
unsurprising
that
this
professor
said:
“You
seem
to
think
clerkships
are
a
hazard,
whereas
I
think
there’s
a
clerkship
for
everybody.”
That
framing
stuck
with
me
as
LAP
struggled
to
convinced
law
schools
to
subscribe
to
our
Clerkships
Database
(“Glassdoor
for
Judges”).
Some
even
tried
to
bar
students
from
subscribing.
Before
LAP
launched
the
Clerkships
Database
—
serving
thousands
of
students
annually
while
collecting
data
on
the
incidence
of
negative
versus
positive
clerkship
experiences
—
school
administrators
framed
LAP
as
“dissuading”
students
from
clerking.
Not
exactly.
I
encourage
students
to
be
mindful
of
who
they
clerk
for
and
to
be
empowered
consumers
of
clerkship
information,
in
ways
they
historically
were
not.
I
discourage
applicants
from
clerking
for
abusive
judges.
It’s
disturbing
that
schools
refuse
to
warn
students
about
abusive
judges,
and
all
but
two
refuse
to
subscribe
to
LAP’s
database
—
showing
how
little
they
care
about
students’
well-being,
and
forcing
students
to
pay
individually.
Fortunately,
students
no
longer
rely
solely
on
their
schools
for
information,
as
long
as
they
pay
$50
to
subscribe
to
LAP’s
database.
Once
LAP
launched
the
Clerkships
Database
in
April
2024,
applicants
finally
saw
for
themselves
just
how
hazardous
some
clerkships
are,
firsthand
from
clerks.
Our
data
suggest
around
30%
of
clerkship
experiences
are
negative,
based
on
over
2,000
surveys
about
more
than
1,200
judges
and
information
from
every
state,
federal
circuit,
and
U.S.
district
court.
Our
data
also
indicate
that
around
1
in
17
federal
judges
are
abusive,
which
aligns
with
the
federal
judiciary’s
own
data:
as
many
as
106
judges
(out
of
around
1,700)
committed
actionable
misconduct
by
mistreating
clerks
in
2023,
according
to
a
climate
survey
released
earlier
this
year.
I
shared
that
statistic
with
around
30
students
at
a
LAP
event:
statistically,
at
least
one
or
two
in
this
room
will
endure
abusive
clerkships.
Let
that
sink
in.
It’s
no
surprise
so
many
judges
abuse
their
power:
judicial
chambers
are
particularly
conducive
to
mistreatment.
There’s
an
enormous
power
disparity
between
young
law
clerks
and
life-tenured
judges.
Importantly,
federal
clerks
are
exempt
from
Title
VII
of
the
Civil
Rights
Act
of
1964
and
all
federal
anti-discrimination
laws:
if
they
are
harassed,
discriminated
against,
unjustly
fired,
or
retaliated
against
(or
all
of
the
above,
in
my
case),
they
cannot
sue
to
seek
redress.
Law
clerks
basically
have
no
rights,
and
judges
have
legal
immunity
for
harassing
them.
Title
VII
can
seem
abstract.
Here’s
the
reality:
laws
deter
bad
behavior.
Workers
don’t
harass
their
co-workers
(or,
less
often
than
they
otherwise
might),
if
for
no
other
reason
than
they
don’t
want
to
get
sued.
Title
VII
puts
the
onus
on
the
employer,
if
an
employee
complains
about
harassment,
to
investigate,
address
the
problem,
and
discipline
the
offender:
otherwise,
the
wronged
employee
can
sue
for
damages.
Exempting
an
entire
branch
of
government
means
federal
judges
do
not
face
this
deterrent
—
there’s
literally
nothing
legally
preventing
or
dissuading
them
from
mistreating
staff.
This
is
compounded
by
the
fact
that
there
are
no
effective
reporting
processes,
complaint
mechanisms,
or
other
avenues
to
seek
help.
Clerks
rarely
use
the
formal
or
internal
complaint
processes
—
the
Judicial
Conduct
&
Disability
(JC&D)
Act
and
the
Employee
Dispute
Resolution
(EDR)
Plan.
Juxtapose
the
judiciary’s
2023
climate
survey
with
complaint
statistics
from
that
period:
just
three
JC&D
complaints
in
2023,
and
just
seven
EDR
complaints
between
2021
and
2023,
were
filed
by
law
clerks,
due
primarily
to
clerks’
fears
of
retaliation
for
reporting
—
retaliation
they’re
not
legally
protected
against,
since
they’re
exempt
from
Title
VII.
This
means
judges
are
rarely
held
accountable
for
misconduct.
Students
should
do
everything
possible
to
avoid
abusive
clerkships,
because
the
outcomes
for
mistreated
clerks
are
bleak.
Consider
three
recent
examples
that
made
news
—
representing
a
miniscule
fraction
of
judicial
misconduct:
Second
Circuit
Judge
Sarah
Merriam
was
disciplined
and
publicly
reprimanded
in
December
2023
for
creating
an
“overly
harsh
work
environment.”
In
July
2024,
former
Alaska
judge
Joshua
Kindred
resigned
in
scandal,
after
a
Ninth
Circuit
Judicial
Council
found
that
he
sexually
harassed
and
retaliated
against
clerks.
Kindred
was
recently
disbarred.
And
former
Minnesota
federal
bankruptcy
judge
Kesha
Tanabe
resigned
in
scandal
in
early
2025
after
bullying
and
retaliating
against
clerks.
That
case
never
would
have
made
news
—
and
Tanabe
would
have
evaded
accountability,
after
the
Eighth
Circuit
tried
to
protect
her
by
pressuring
a
law
clerk
to
withdraw
their
JC&D
complaint
—
but
for
my
Above
the
Law
article.
These
examples
—
just
a
fraction
of
what
comes
over
my
transom
at
LAP
—
should
tell
you
how
seriously
the
federal
courts
take
accountability
and
safe
workplaces
(not
at
all);
how
effective
judicial
complaint
processes
and
discipline
are
at
preventing
and
addressing
misconduct
(not
at
all);
and
the
importance
of
selecting
a
clerkship
based
on
the
judge’s
management
style
and
workplace
conduct
(all-important).
Not
all
clerkships
are
hazardous.
But
as
someone
who
does
this
for
a
living,
far
more
are
treacherous
than
anyone
else
would
admit.
Even
most
mistreated
clerks
never
tell
anyone
they
were
mistreated:
they’ve
only
shared
in
LAP’s
Clerkships
Database.
Law
schools
and
legal
industry
leaders
paint
an
overly
rosy
and
one-sided
picture
of
clerking
—
often
while
knowing
realities
they
won’t
admit
—
misleading
students
to
believe
clerkships
confer
only
professional
benefits,
and
they’ll
develop
a
lifelong
mentor/mentee
or
“familial”
relationship
with
the
judges
they
clerk
for.
Clerks
refer
to
judges
fondly,
years
later,
as
“my
judge”
(sometimes
even
after
they
were
mistreated)
—
a
term
of
affection
that
lionizes
judges
unnecessarily
and
contributes
to
the
dangerous
perception
that
judges’
workplace
conduct
should
not
be
questioned,
no
matter
how
unethical.
But
this
may
be
the
exception,
not
the
rule.
In
reality,
most
clerkships
are
jobs
like
any
other:
you’ll
work
for
a
year
or
two
to
check
a
box
before
advancing
in
your
career.
Creating
unrealistic
expectations
sets
clerks
up
to
fail.
Clerks
take
desperate
measures
to
force
a
bond,
including
“nonjudicial
tasks”
like
fetching
judges’
dry
cleaning,
tutoring
their
children,
and
walking
their
dogs.
They
self-internalize
failure,
thinking
they
did
something
wrong,
if
those
relationships
don’t
materialize.
I
don’t
believe
there’s
a
clerkship
for
everybody.
Not
everyone
should
clerk.
If
the
choice
is
between
an
abusive
clerkship
and
no
clerkship
at
all
—
don’t
clerk.
Ask
why
you
want
to
clerk
and
what
your
goals
are.
At
the
same
time,
no
one
who
wants
to
clerk
should
count
themselves
out.
In
fact,
LAP’s
database
fosters
greater
equity
by
ensuring
any
applicant,
regardless
of
law
school,
can
pay
$50
to
access
the
same
baseline
information
about
clerkships
—
rather
than
the
pre-LAP
status
quo,
which
restricted
access
to
just
a
handful
of
students
from
top
law
schools.
What
are
the
right
questions
to
ask
yourself
before
clerking?
-
Why
do
I
want
to
clerk? -
What
are
my
goals
for
the
clerkship? -
Where
do
I
want
to
live
after
my
clerkship,
and
will
this
clerkship
help
me
get
a
job
in
this
jurisdiction? -
What
type
of
law
do
I
want
to
practice,
and
will
this
clerkship
help
me
hone
the
right
skills
and
get
a
job
in
my
chosen
field? -
What
kind
of
work
environment
am
I
looking
for? -
How
do
I
like
to
be
supervised
and
receive
feedback? -
When
do
I
want
to
clerk
—
straight
out
of
law
school,
or
can
I
wait
for
a
few
years?
If
I
wait,
how
will
I
fill
those
gap
year(s)
before
my
clerkship
begins? -
How
far
am
I
willing
to
move
to
clerk?
Where
am
I
willing
to
live
for
a
year
or
two?
There’s
nothing
wrong
with
clerking
for
the
credential,
rather
than
(or
in
addition
to)
seeking
writing
and
research
experience,
litigation
or
appellate
training,
and
insight
into
judges’
decision-making
—
as
long
as
you
don’t
accept
an
abusive
clerkship
for
the
prestige.
There
is
a
wrong
question
to
ask:
What
am
I
willing
to
put
up
with
to
clerk?
Given
the
scarcity
of
federal
jobs
right
now,
some
will
still
ask.
If
everyone
applying
for
clerkships
subscribed
to
LAP’s
Clerkships
Database,
far
fewer
would
endure
mistreatment,
because
they’d
truly
understanding
just
how
awful
some
clerkships
are.
Frankly,
knowing
the
trash
law
schools
provide,
I
worry
about
students
who
haven’t
subscribed.
Where
are
they
getting
information,
if
not
from
LAP,
and
how
do
they
verify
it?
Sadly,
some
will
say,
“I
can
handle
it,”
or
“It’s
worth
it
for
the
prestige.”
Still
others
think
it
won’t
happen
to
them.
But
I’ve
counseled
hundreds
of
mistreated
clerks:
they
all
said
if
they
knew
how
bad
it
would
be,
they
wouldn’t
have
accepted
the
clerkship.
Frankly,
my
experience
is
not
rare:
it’s
just
one
that’s
rarely
shared
publicly,
due
to
the
culture
of
silence
and
fear
surrounding
the
judiciary
—
one
of
deifying
judges
and
disbelieving
law
clerks.
To
put
it
bluntly:
if
you’re
applying
for
clerkships
and
you
choose
not
to
take
agency
over
your
career
by
fully
informing
yourself,
you’re
taking
an
enormous
career
risk,
given
the
outsized
influence
of
clerkships
—
a
career
you
sacrificed
three
years
and
hundreds
of
thousands
of
dollars
to
build.
Some
people
misleading
students
to
believe
there’s
a
clerkship
for
everybody
have
misaligned
incentives
and
questionable
motives:
they
want
as
many
students
as
possible
to
clerk,
for
example.
Others
just
lack
frame
of
reference:
clerks
don’t
regularly
share
negative
experiences
with
them,
or
their
clerkships
were
wonderful
so
they
don’t
understand
how
others’
couldn’t
be.
But
the
judiciary’s
and
LAP’s
data
both
suggest
that
for
every
17
students
applying
for
federal
clerkships,
one
will
be
mistreated.
That’s
a
lot
of
destroyed
lives
and
careers.
Maybe
it’s
time
lawyers
were
honest
about
the
realities
inherent
in
workplaces
exempt
from
workplace
laws.
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.