Property, Prelude to Algorithmacy Series #1
When Property Became Permission
Charles Reich, Government Largess, and the Structural Origins of Platform Dependence
The New New Property, Part 1 of 5
In 2023, a rideshare driver in New York City with a 4.93 rating and three years of uninterrupted service opened his app to find his account had been deactivated. No hearing preceded the decision. No specific allegation accompanied it. The notification offered a form to request a review. The review, conducted by the same company that made the initial decision, took eleven days. During those eleven days, the driver had no income, no access to the record of complaints against him, and no right to confront or cross-examine whoever had triggered the deactivation. He was one of roughly 4,800 drivers the Independent Drivers Guild represented in deactivation cases in New York alone that year. Ninety percent were reinstated, suggesting the vast majority of deactivations lacked adequate justification.
This is not a labor story. It is a property story—one whose dynamics were diagnosed sixty years ago.
The article
Charles Reich published “The New Property” in the Yale Law Journal in 1964. It runs fifty-four pages. It has been cited in over 1,000 law review articles and 6 Supreme Court opinions. It is the most-cited article ever published in the Yale Law Journal and the seventh most-cited law review article in American legal history (Shapiro & Pearse, 2012). Justice William Brennan relied on it to decide Goldberg v. Kelly (1970), the case that extended due process protections to welfare recipients. Brennan later called Goldberg the most important opinion he authored.
Reich opens his article with a striking phrase, now etched in administrative law: “The institution called property guards the troubled boundary between individual man and the state.” He paints the government as a “gigantic syphon,” pulling in revenue and pouring out wealth in many forms: money, benefits, services, contracts, franchises, and licenses (Reich, 1964, p. 733). These government-bestowed valuables, he contends, are steadily supplanting the old foundations of privately held wealth.
Reich catalogs seven categories of government-created wealth. Income and benefits: Social Security, unemployment compensation, veterans’ benefits, totaling approximately $58 billion in social welfare expenditures in 1961. Government jobs: over nine million direct employees, with an estimated 15 to 20 percent of the labor force dependent on government for primary income when defense workers are included. Occupational licenses: medicine, law, longshoreman work, and taxi driving. Franchises: taxi medallions worth $21,000 to $23,000 in 1961 New York, television channels worth millions, airline routes, and trucking permits. Government contracts: approximately $50 billion annually in defense spending alone. Subsidies to business: $8.5 billion in federal funds in 1964. Use of public resources: grazing rights, mining claims, radio spectrum, and hydroelectric power. An eighth implicit category encompasses public services, including education, which Reich calls “one of the greatest sources of value to the individual” (Reich, 1964, p. 737).
The numbers were staggering even in 1961. Government largess totaled roughly $165 billion, while personal income totaled $416 billion. Nearly forty percent of American economic life flowed through government channels. Reich’s point was not that government spending was too high. His point was that the legal framework governing this wealth treated it as discretionary generosity rather than as the economic foundation on which millions of lives depended.
The doctrine Reich dismantled
The legal architecture that enabled arbitrary revocation of government benefits rested on a single distinction: the difference between a right and a privilege. Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. articulated the principle in McAuliffe v. Mayor of New Bedford (1892). A policeman fired for violating a rule restricting political activities challenged his dismissal. Holmes, then on the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, responded with what became the doctrine’s defining sentence: “The petitioner may have a constitutional right to talk politics, but he has no constitutional right to be a policeman.”
The logic was clean and lethal. Government benefits are privileges bestowed at sovereign discretion, not constitutional rights. Because they are privileges, the government can condition them on virtually any terms, including the surrender of constitutional protections. Want a tax exemption? Swear you do not advocate overthrowing the government. Want a radio license? Disclose whether you have ever been a Communist. Want to keep your medical license? Do not antagonize congressional committees. Want unemployment insurance? Sign a loyalty oath. The privilege, being discretionary, can carry whatever freight the granting authority wishes to load onto it.
By the early 1960s, William Van Alstyne documented that Shepardizing McAuliffe yielded more than seventy cases, 77 percent of which resolved against the constitutional claim (Van Alstyne, 1968). Courts had applied the doctrine to uphold the summary dismissal of civil servants suspected of disloyalty, restrictions on political activity by federal employees, the exclusion of students who refused ROTC training, and the termination of teachers who refused loyalty oaths. The Supreme Court sustained these outcomes across a long series of Cold War cases: American Communications Association v. Douds (1950), Garner v. Board of Public Works (1951), Adler v. Board of Education (1952), Bailey v. Richardson (D.C. Cir. 1950, affirmed by an equally divided Court).
Several flanking doctrines had begun to erode the distinction. The doctrine of unconstitutional conditions held that government could not condition a benefit on the surrender of a constitutional right, even if it could deny the benefit altogether (Speiser v. Randall, 1958; Sherbert v. Verner, 1963). But as Van Alstyne argued in his influential 1968 Harvard Law Review article, these approaches merely evaded Holmes’s basic idea without confronting it with a convincing intellectual response. They said the government could not do certain specific things with its largess. They did not say what largess was, or why the distinction between right and privilege should collapse entirely.
Reich found and filled that gap—not by picking apart which individual terms might be unlawful, but by challenging readers to rethink the very definition of property itself.
The cases that made it personal
Reich’s argument did not come from abstract reasoning. Instead, it was shaped by exposure to real people. Their lives, he saw, were damaged by the rights-privilege distinction.
Dr. Edward K. Barsky had practiced medicine since 1919. He led American medical volunteers during the Spanish Civil War and served as chairman of the Joint Anti-Fascist Refugee Committee. When HUAC subpoenaed the committee’s records in 1946, Barsky refused to produce them. He served six months for contempt of Congress. After his release, New York’s Board of Regents moved to suspend his medical license. Extensive testimony established he was both a skillful surgeon and a good citizen. No witness testified to any conduct reflecting on his professional character. The Regents’ own Discipline Committee found his offense “involved no moral turpitude whatever.” The Regents suspended his license for six months anyway. The Supreme Court upheld the suspension 6-3 in Barsky v. Board of Regents (1954), with Justice Burton writing that medical practice was a privilege granted by the state under its substantially plenary power to fix the terms of admission.
Reich watched the Barsky case unfold firsthand. During the 1953-54 term—when Brown v. Board electrified the Court—he clerked for Justice Hugo Black. Black’s dissent in Barsky seethed: New York had allowed Barsky to be tried by an agency wielding combined, unchecked powers. Justice Douglas warned: “ When a doctor is kept from saving lives because he opposed Franco, ‘it is time to call a halt and look critically at the neurosis that has possessed us.”
Van Alstyne identified why Barsky was so dangerous. It extended the privilege doctrine beyond public employment to a privately practicing physician. Barsky was not dropped from the government payroll. He was forbidden under pain of criminal prosecution to practice medicine privately. The Court had moved, in Van Alstyne’s phrase, “by negligent degrees” to a new and more expansive formulation: the petitioner may have a right to talk politics, but he has no right to be a doctor (Van Alstyne, 1968).
Flemming v. Nestor (1960) became, as Reich called it, the most important judicial decision on government largess. Ephram Nestor, a Bulgarian immigrant, came to the United States in 1913 and paid Social Security taxes from the system’s inception in 1936 until retiring in 1955. Nineteen years of contributions. He began receiving benefits. In 1956, he was deported under the Immigration and Nationality Act for having been a Communist Party member from 1933 to 1939. A 1954 amendment to the Social Security Act terminated his benefits. The Supreme Court ruled 5-4 that Nestor had no accrued property right in benefits he had funded for two decades. The dissent described him as an aging man deprived of the means to live after being separated from his family and exiled to life among strangers in a land he had left forty-seven years earlier.
Reich populated the rest of his argument with cases that, taken individually, might seem anecdotal but in aggregate revealed a system. Washington, D.C. denied a taxi permit to a married man in his forties because, in his twenties, he was discovered about to have sexual intercourse in his car. Louisiana attempted to deny Aid to Dependent Children benefits to mothers who had illegitimate children. Welfare recipients endured unannounced home inspections, often at one or three in the morning, with agents searching for evidence of male occupancy under “man in the house” rules. Reich had documented these midnight welfare searches in a separate 1963 article. An attorney was disbarred for invoking the Fifth Amendment during an inquiry (Cohen v. Hurley, 1961). George Anastaplo, who had quoted the Declaration of Independence on the right of revolution during his bar examination, was denied bar admission for refusing to answer questions about Communist Party membership (In re Anastaplo, 1961). The FCC threatened Pacifica Foundation’s radio licenses for “controversial” broadcasts and demanded that broadcast license applicants disclose any Communist Party associations.
The pattern was consistent. Government largess carried conditions. Those conditions required the surrender of constitutional protections. Failure to comply triggered revocation. And the rights-privilege distinction ensured that courts would not intervene because the benefit was a privilege, not a right.
Reich’s structural insight
Reich’s most important contribution was not the catalog of abuses. It was the identification of a structural transformation in what wealth was, and what that transformation meant for the relationship between the individual and organized power.
The critical passage appears early in the article. “Today more and more of our wealth takes the form of rights or status rather than of tangible goods,” Reich writes. “A profession or a job is frequently far more valuable than a house or bank account, for a new house can be bought, and a new bank account created, once a profession or job is secure” (Reich, 1964, pp. 738-739). He extends this to the automobile dealer whose chief wealth is his franchise from the manufacturer, because the building, the inventory, and the goodwill may all be less valuable than the franchise that guarantees income.
The analytical move is a distinction between two relationships to value. In the first, the holder possesses value directly. The farmer owns land. The craftsman owns tools. The relationship between holder and value is unmediated. In the second, the holder possesses value through a system that mediates access. The licensed professional holds value through an administrative apparatus that can grant, condition, modify, or revoke access. The welfare recipient holds value through a bureaucratic system that determines eligibility, monitors compliance, and exercises discretion over continuation. The franchise holder derives value from a legal instrument issued by a granting authority, under terms the authority defines.
Reich understood that this shift changed the nature of economic security itself. When wealth is system-mediated, the system that mediates it acquires power over the holder. Government, he wrote, “automatically gains such power as is necessary and proper to supervise its largess. It obtains new rights to investigate, to regulate, and to punish” (Reich, 1964, p. 746). The power is structural, not intentional. No one designed a system to oppress welfare recipients or silence broadcast licensees. The dynamics of system-mediated access create dependence, which in turn produces vulnerability, regardless of the administrators’ intentions.
Reich then posed the question that organized the final movement of his argument: if civil liberties require a property basis, and if the forms of wealth on which modern Americans actually depend have shifted from tangible goods to system-mediated status, then those new forms of wealth must receive property-like protection. Property, he argues, is not valuable because of some metaphysical quality inherent in ownership. Property is valuable because it “performs the function of maintaining independence, dignity and pluralism in society by creating zones within which the majority has to yield to the owner” (Reich, 1964, p. 771). Property draws a circle around each individual’s activities. Within that circle, the individual is master. Without it, the individual is exposed to the full force of organized power, whether governmental or social.
The functionalist argument was the key analytical move. If a property’s value lies in its function, protecting autonomy, and if government largess now serves the same function that tangible property once served, providing the material basis for independence, then government largess deserves the same constitutional protection. The categories of traditional property law are not sacred. They are instrumental. When the instruments fail to protect the values they exist to protect, the categories must expand.
He closed the structural argument with an analogy that his legal audience would have felt viscerally. This was “the new feudalism”: a condition in which “wealth that flows from government is held by its recipients conditionally, subject to confiscation in the interest of the paramount state” (Reich, 1964, p. 768). Just as medieval serfs held land conditionally from lords who could impose obligations and revoke tenure, modern Americans held economic well-being conditionally from an administrative state that could impose behavioral requirements and revoke access to it. The analogy was not rhetorical decoration. It was a structural analysis. Feudal tenure and government largess share a common architecture: the holder depends on a system controlled by someone else, and that dependence creates a power relationship the holder cannot exit without losing the value at stake. The serf could not leave the manor without forfeiting the land. The welfare recipient could not challenge the midnight search without risking termination. The licensed professional could not resist the loyalty oath without risking revocation. Dependence on system-mediated access makes exit prohibitively expensive, and the administrator who controls access knows it.
The man behind the argument
Charles Alan Reich was born May 20, 1928, in New York City to a medical family. He attended progressive private schools, then Oberlin College (B.A., 1949), and Yale Law School (LL.B., 1952), where he served as editor-in-chief of the Yale Law Journal. After his clerkship with Justice Black, he spent six years in corporate law practice at Cravath, Swaine & Moore and Arnold, Fortas & Porter, where he worked alongside Abe Fortas, later a Supreme Court Justice. He joined the Yale Law faculty in 1960.
Yale Law in the early 1960s was the institutional home of legal realism’s legacy, led by Dean Eugene V. Rostow. Faculty colleagues included Guido Calabresi, Alexander Bickel, Charles Black, Boris Bittker, and Robert Bork. The school’s intellectual orientation, anti-formalist and skeptical of artificial legal categories, created the environment in which Reich could reconceptualize government benefits as property. He built on the tradition of Wesley Newcomb Hohfeld, a Yale Law professor who demonstrated in 1913 and 1917 that property was not a relation between a person and a thing but a complex of interpersonal legal relations, the “bundle of rights” concept. Legal realists, including Felix Cohen, Robert Hale, and Morris Cohen, had deconstructed the fixed, tangible conception of property. Reich used this deconstructive tradition constructively: if property is a social construction, then government entitlements that serve the same function as traditional property, maintaining independence, dignity, and security, deserve the same constitutional protection.
His key mentor on the welfare-rights question was not a law professor but a policy figure: Elizabeth Wickenden, a social welfare expert who encouraged him to investigate constitutional protections for welfare recipients. It was Wickenden who prompted the 1963 “Midnight Welfare Searches” article that preceded “The New Property.” His mentor at Yale was Thomas I. Emerson, the school’s leading First Amendment scholar, who had defended accused Communists during the McCarthy era and earned the nickname “Tommie the Commie” from the FBI.
Reich published three foundational articles in rapid succession: “Midnight Welfare Searches and the Social Security Act” (1963), “The New Property” (1964), and “Individual Rights and Social Welfare: The Emerging Legal Issues” (1965, also cited in Goldberg v. Kelly). The trilogy constituted a comprehensive assault on the rights-privilege distinction from the empirical ground up: first documenting the abuses, then reconceptualizing the legal framework, then specifying the emerging rights.
In the summer of 1967, Reich spent time in Berkeley during the Summer of Love. His planned book on civil liberties became The Greening of America (1970), excerpted as the longest essay in The New Yorker’s history, which sold over 2 million copies and reached the New York Times Best Seller list. The reception was ferocious. George Kennan accused Reich of the kind of exaggeration that “has regularly formed the initial ideological basis for fanatical political movements.” The book destroyed his academic reputation. “It did me in as far as academe was concerned,” Reich later admitted. Guido Calabresi, eulogizing Reich after his death in June 2019, insisted the two works shared a central concern with the individual’s vulnerability to organized power: “Understanding how certain welfare rights are the modern equivalent of land property in ancient days is one example… But the insight into young people’s deep anguish and need for fundamental change, which underlay The Greening of America, is the most dramatic.”
One biographical detail carries intellectual significance. In The Sorcerer of Bolinas Reef (1976), Reich wrote candidly about his lifelong anxiety, his first sexual experience at age 43 with a man, and his coming to terms with being gay. A closeted gay man in mid-century America had personal reasons to understand how institutional power threatened individual autonomy, how systems of surveillance and conformity enforcement operated, and what it felt like to depend on institutional tolerance that could be withdrawn at any time. His students at Yale included Bill Clinton, Hillary Rodham, and Samuel Alito.
The solution Reich proposed and its limits
Reich’s remedy was twofold. He proposed substantive limitations on government power over largess: benefits should not be conditioned on surrender of constitutional rights, revocation should require specific cause, and officials should not use discretion to punish disfavored behavior or speech. He also proposed procedural safeguards: notice before revocation, a hearing with the opportunity to respond, and an impartial decision-maker.
The Supreme Court adopted the procedural half of this program in Goldberg v. Kelly (1970). Justice Brennan’s majority opinion declared that welfare entitlements could be regarded as more like property than a gratuity, and that termination without a prior evidentiary hearing violated due process. The decision launched what legal scholars call the due process revolution. Courts extended procedural protections to driver’s licenses (Bell v. Burson, 1971), parole revocation (Morrissey v. Brewer, 1972), public employment (Board of Regents v. Roth; Perry v. Sindermann, both 1972), prison discipline (Wolff v. McDonnell, 1974), and school suspensions (Goss v. Lopez, 1975).
Then came retrenchment. Mathews v. Eldridge (1976) replaced Goldberg’s categorical approach with a three-factor balancing test that weighed the private interest, the risk of erroneous deprivation, and the government’s interest, including administrative burden. The Burger and Rehnquist Courts steadily narrowed the doctrine. The substantive half of Reich’s program, which should vest as rights conferring genuine security, never materialized. David Super’s retrospective assessment is blunt: “The New Property” paved the way for a revolution in procedural due process but “did not accomplish Reich’s primary stated goal: providing those dependent on government assistance the same security that property rights long have offered owners of real property” (Super, 2013, p. 1774). Reich himself expressed skepticism about whether procedure alone could provide meaningful security. He wanted substantive protection. The Court gave him process instead.
The blind spot that matters now
The most important limitation of Reich’s framework was not the retreat of procedural due process. It was a structural feature of the original argument that subsequent scholars have identified with increasing urgency.
Reich focused exclusively on government power. His entire framework assumed the state as the relevant source of threat to individual autonomy. Eduardo Peñalver, assessing the article at its fiftieth anniversary, argues that both Reich and the property-rights tradition that partly drew on his language are “strikingly absent” on the potential for private forces to undermine the same values property exists to protect. Peñalver calls for a dynamic concept of property that responds to whatever source of power poses a threat to individual freedom, whether public or private (Peñalver, 2014). Super concurs: vulnerability to power does not stop with the state, because individuals are also vulnerable to employers, creditors, and large corporations (Super, 2013).
This blind spot creates the opening for the rest of this series. Platform capitalism has replicated the structural position Reich diagnosed, transferred it from public to private hands, and operates it at a scale Reich could not have imagined. Amazon’s third-party marketplace exceeds $150 billion annually, with three-quarters of sellers employing five or fewer people. Uber coordinates roughly five million drivers worldwide. YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok mediate the livelihoods of millions of creators whose economic survival depends on the algorithmic visibility they cannot directly observe or control. Apple’s App Store is the exclusive distribution channel for iOS applications, making Apple the sole gatekeeper for over 136,000 developers. The total economic activity mediated by private platforms now rivals, or even exceeds, the share of economic life that flowed through government channels in 1961.
The structural parallel is precise across four dimensions. In both cases, economic value is held not through direct possession but through system-mediated status that can be conditioned, modified, or revoked by the system’s administrator. In both cases, the administrator exercises intermingled functions: making rules, enforcing them, and adjudicating disputes about them. Rory Van Loo observes that Amazon alone handles more disputes annually than all U.S. federal courts combined, functioning as a “private courthouse” with no obligation to follow procedural rules (Van Loo, 2021). In both cases, the holder depends on the system and cannot exit without losing the value at stake. A rideshare driver who leaves one platform cannot transfer a 4.93 rating to another. An Amazon seller who loses an account loses not only current inventory listings but years of accumulated reviews, search rankings, and customer relationships. In both cases, conditions attached to access expand the administrator’s power: platform Terms of Service impose behavioral requirements (acceptance rate thresholds, content guidelines, response time metrics) that function exactly as the conditions Reich documented on government largess, compounding the administrator’s leverage over the dependent holder.
The critical difference is legal. Goldberg v. Kelly established that government benefits constitute property interests protected by the Fourteenth Amendment, triggering due process requirements before termination. No equivalent doctrine applies to private platforms. In Prager University v. Google (9th Cir. 2020), the Ninth Circuit held that YouTube is a private entity, not a state actor. In Musi v. Apple (N.D. Cal. 2026), a federal court ruled that Apple can remove applications from its store with or without cause under its developer agreement. Constitutional due process constrains only government action. The driver deactivated without explanation, the seller suspended by automated metrics, the creator demonetized by algorithmic classification: none of them can invoke Goldberg. The structural problem Reich identified in 1964, that system-mediated wealth creates dependence and dependence creates vulnerability to arbitrary power, has migrated from the public sector to the private sector and shed its procedural protections in transit.
Raymond Brescia made the most direct extension in 2021. He argues that Reich’s concerns about government largess threatening human dignity and autonomy now apply primarily to the private sector, where personal information and digital existence are subject to “private largess” on platforms. Brescia emphasizes that Reich did not make an essentialist argument for why certain interests deserved protection. His argument was functionalist: these interests matter because they serve the same function as traditional property, maintaining the independence, dignity, and pluralism that a free society requires (Brescia, 2021). That functionalist logic follows the structure of dependence wherever it goes.
What Reich named and what he did not
Reich identified the structural transformation. He identified the power asymmetry. He identified the need for legal protection. He proposed a framework that, for a few years, produced real institutional change.
He did not identify the competency transformation that accompanies every shift in the property’s structure. When wealth migrated from tangible goods to system-mediated status, the skills required to maintain economic security changed. It was no longer enough to possess the thing. One had to navigate the system that determined access. The licensed professional needed not only professional competence but also the ability to satisfy administrative requirements, manage credentialing processes, avoid political entanglements that could trigger revocation, and position oneself within bureaucratic evaluation systems. The welfare recipient needed to understand eligibility rules, comply with reporting obligations, submit to surveillance without triggering suspicion, and navigate appeals processes when benefits were wrongly denied. These are not trivial additions to the competency profile. They represent a qualitative shift in what economic participation requires.
Reich saw this shift operating. His catalog of conditions, from loyalty oaths to midnight searches to morality requirements for taxi permits, implicitly documented the competency demands the administrative state imposed on its dependents. Navigating government largess required a specific kind of knowledge: procedural knowledge of how applications, renewals, and appeals worked; strategic knowledge of which behaviors attracted scrutiny and which did not; social knowledge of which officials exercised discretion and how; and temporal knowledge of deadlines, waiting periods, and review cycles. Those who possessed this knowledge, often through class advantage, professional networks, or prior institutional experience, navigated the system effectively. Those who lacked it, disproportionately the poor, the uneducated, and the politically marginal, fell through the gaps. The distributional consequences were severe. But Reich did not name this knowledge as a distinct competency, because naming it was not his project. His project was the legal protection of the wealth itself. The competency question remained implicit.
It should no longer remain implicit. The same structural transition, from direct possession to system-mediated access, has occurred again. Platform workers, sellers, and creators derive economic value through algorithmic systems that score, rank, and distribute access based on proprietary criteria. Navigating those systems requires a competency that existing frameworks do not name and existing institutions do not teach. Experienced rideshare drivers earn significantly more than newcomers, not because they drive better, but because they have learned to read the algorithmic system: when to log on, where to position, which rides to accept, and how to maintain the rating that keeps them visible. Amazon sellers who survive the suspension gauntlet develop informal knowledge about keyword optimization, review velocity, and the behavioral triggers that activate automated enforcement. YouTube creators learn to title, thumbnail, and structure videos to satisfy recommendation algorithms whose criteria shift without notice.
The knowledge these workers develop is real, consequential, and unevenly distributed. It compounds over time: the driver who understands surge-pricing patterns earns more, which funds more driving hours, which generate more data about the system, which produce better models of algorithmic behavior, which yield still higher earnings. The seller who understands Amazon’s A9 search algorithm attracts more traffic, which generates more sales, which improves search ranking, which attracts still more traffic. The competency advantages are self-reinforcing, producing the power-law distributions that characterize platform economies: a small number of highly competent navigators capture a disproportionate share of available value.
This is the competency problem that Reich’s framework implies but does not address. Every historical shift in the structure of property has generated a corresponding shift in the competency required to hold it. When economic coordination moved from oral to written systems, literacy became the condition for participation in commercial, legal, and political life. When it moved from tangible property to administrative status, bureaucratic literacy became the condition for navigating the systems that determined access. When it moved from administrative status to algorithmic mediation, something new became necessary. The series that follows will trace that connection through the legal, institutional, and organizational transformations that separate Reich’s 1964 diagnosis from the algorithmic condition of the present.
References
Brescia, R. H. (2021). Private largess in the digital age: Privacy in Reich’s new property. Touro Law Review, 36(3), Article 11.
Peñalver, E. M. (2014). Property, power, and freedom: Reich’s “New Property” at fifty. Loyola University Chicago Law Journal Symposium.
Reich, C. A. (1963). Midnight welfare searches and the Social Security Act. Yale Law Journal, 72(7), 1347-1360.
Reich, C. A. (1964). The new property. Yale Law Journal, 73(5), 733-787.
Reich, C. A. (1965). Individual rights and social welfare: The emerging legal issues. Yale Law Journal, 74(7), 1245-1257.
Reich, C. A. (1970). The greening of America. Random House.
Shapiro, F. R., & Pearse, M. (2012). The most-cited law review articles of all time. Michigan Law Review, 110(8), 1483-1520.
Super, D. A. (2013). A new property. Columbia Law Review, 113(7), 1773-1896.
Van Alstyne, W. W. (1968). The demise of the right-privilege distinction in constitutional law. Harvard Law Review, 81(7), 1439-1464.
Van Loo, R. (2021). Federal rules of platform procedure. University of Chicago Law Review, 88(4), 829-896.
Next in the series: Goldberg, the Due Process Revolution, and Its Retreat