Page 116 - A Little Life: A Novel
P. 116

“In this class, you will of course learn the mechanics of contracts—how
                one is created, how one is broken, how binding one is and how to unbind
                yourself from one—but you will also be asked to consider law itself as a

                series of contracts. Some are more fair—and this one time, I’ll allow you to
                say such a thing—than others. But fairness is not the only, or even the most
                important, consideration in law: the law is not always fair. Contracts are not
                fair,  not  always.  But  sometimes  they  are  necessary,  these  unfairnesses,
                because  they  are  necessary  for  the  proper  functioning  of  society.  In  this
                class you will learn the difference between what is fair and what is just, and,
                as  important,  between  what  is  fair  and  what  is  necessary.  You  will  learn

                about the obligations we have to one another as members of society, and
                how far society should go in enforcing those obligations. You will learn to
                see your life—all of our lives—as a series of agreements, and it will make
                you rethink not only the law but this country itself, and your place in it.”
                   He had been thrilled by Harold’s speech, and in the coming weeks, by
                how differently Harold thought, by how he would stand at the front of the

                room like a conductor, stretching out a student’s argument into strange and
                unimaginable formations. Once, a fairly benign discussion about the right to
                privacy—both the most cherished and the foggiest of constitutional rights,
                according  to  Harold,  whose  definition  of  contracts  often  ignored
                conventional boundaries and bounded happily into other fields of law—had
                led to an argument between the two of them about abortion, which he felt
                was  indefensible  on  moral  grounds  but  necessary  on  social  ones.  “Aha!”

                Harold had said; he was one of the few professors who would entertain not
                just legal arguments but moral ones. “And, Mr. St. Francis, what happens
                when we forsake morals in law for social governance? What is the point at
                which a country, and its people, should start valuing social control over its
                sense of morality? Is there such a point? I’m not convinced there is.” But he
                had  hung  in,  and  the  class  had  stilled  around  them,  watching  the  two  of

                them debate back and forth.
                   Harold was the author of three books, but it was his last, The American
                Handshake: The Promises and Failures of the Declaration of Independence,
                that had made him famous. The book, which he had read even before he
                met Harold, was a legal interpretation of the Declaration of Independence:
                Which of its promises had been kept and which had not, and were it written
                today, would it be able to withstand trends in contemporary jurisprudence?

                (“Short answer: No,” read the Times review.) Now he was researching his
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