From Measuring Judicial Independence: The Political Economy of Judging in Japan (with Mark Ramseyer). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Chapter 2. B. Measuring Success in Judicial Careers: It is worth discussing success generally before we continue with the regressions. Earlier in this chapter, we measured it as the time to a judge’s first sokatsu appointment, a rough indication of pay increases. Pay certainly matters, even to judges, but money is not the only thing in life. Moreover, all these judges, even the ones who did not go to Tokyo University and who flunked the LRTI exam many times, were extraordinarily talented and hardworking. They all did pass the LRTI exam in the end. Most of them could have made plenty of money in business, and we can deduce that pay is less of a motivation for them than for the average straight-A student. What, then, motivates judges? Everybody likes more money (you can always give it to charity if you cannot think of anything else to spend it on), but judges must have other motivations for which they are willing to sacrifice cash. This is as true in the United States as Japan, at least for U.S. federal judges, practically all of whom could be earning far more in private practice than as judges. We propose a "Five P's" theory of judicial motivation, a loose taxonomy that helps us focus on what we might measure. Job characteristics such as pay, location, and plushness of the office are common to all jobs, but jobs such as being a judge, a politician, or a central banker have special motivators that we call Policy, Principle, Power, Pride, and Place. POLICY refers to the judge's desire to see particular policies in place, usually because of his political or moral preferences. PRINCIPLE refers to the judge's desire to take particular actions for their own sakes, rather than for their results. This is distinct from Policy, and can conflict with it. A judge might, for example, dissent publicly (in the U.S.) or privately (to his fellow judges) in a particular case out of Principle, even when his dissent would have no effect on the outcome and would even reduce his future policy influence. POWER refers to a judge's desire to be able to make important decisions, whether he actually uses that ability or not. The difference between Power and Policy is resembles difference between Wealth and Consumption. Usually, for a judge to use his Power to push Policy in a direction it would not otherwise go is to use up his Power at least slightly. But Power, like Wealth, can be a good in itself to some people, even when others may wonder what pleasure they could bring unless spent. The judge who values Power will want to be in a position to make as many important decisions as possible. That, in turn, means he will value a high position in the judiciary, and will further value the general power of the judiciary itself. PRIDE refers to the value a judge puts on his reputation, whether that be a reputation for competence, honesty, or creativity. Any judge wants to be considered by the legal profession as someone who is wise, articulate, and legally sophisticated. PLACE refers to the status of being a judge. Judges are granted deference and perks based solely on their positions, most of which they lose instantly when they leave their positions. Even a judge who is considered a fool by his colleagues and whom they carefully insulate from any power over policy still is a judge, and still must be granted outward respect in his courtroom. Constitutional monarchies such as the Emperor of Japan are the ultimate Place- compensating jobs; they have little Power, and have such few duties besides keeping out of scandals that Pride has little chance to be satisfied, but they have unique and lifetime rewards of Place. The judiciary in Japan does not offer pay commensurate with the ability of its members, but it does offer ample opportunities to satisfy the other five P's. This, of course, is no accident-- the nonmonetary rewards are why the government can staff the judiciary with such talent without paying high salaries. Moreover, by paying less, the government selects for judges who value money less than the Five P's and hence are less tempted by either explicit bribery or promises of post-retirement benefits. Whether all five rewards can be enjoyed simultaneously is more dubious. Imagine the situation of a bright young Communist judge in 1965. He is in a good position to influence Policy, which he could do through the Kim Philby strategy of concealing his beliefs, rising eventually to an important position in the Secretariat, and then engineering the promotion of other Communists who would actually change the law. Doing so, however, might well require him to suppress Principle, since he would for years need to lie about his beliefs and decide cases in ways that seem to him unjust. Although the Philby strategy would increase his Power, once he started to interfere in judicial promotions his ability to advance further would decline; power maximization would require never moving out of step with the organization. The Philby strategy would also reduce his opportunity for Pride -- he would have prestige within the judiciary for his competence, but not the public profile of a judge who writes brilliantly crafted, if ineffectual, dissents (or articles in Japan, where lower-court opinions lack dissents). For our study, we need objective, quantitative measures of success. Salary is the standard success measure in economic studies, and in the regressions above we used the time to a judge’s first sokatsu appointment to proxy for it. Yet if judges care about the other five Ps as well, we need more. Fortunately, other objective measures do have a strong correlation with the Five P's. Four of the five are correlated with position in the judiciary. A judge who spends most of his career in a branch office has less power to relish or to use for policy purposes, less opportunity to show his talent, and less prestige attached to his posting. He is spared having to make tradeoffs between the career rewards, but only because he has none of them. Being President of a High Court or spending many years in the Secretariat or seconded to the Ministry of Justice, on the other hand, yields him power, which he may use for policymaking, status, and the display of his ability. Tradeoffs must be made -- the powerbroker in the judicial bureaucracy will not be able to show his abilities in the same way as the High Court President-- but clearly he has succeeded in either case. The exception among these job rewards is Principle. A judge can vote his conscience anywhere -- but it will not matter to anyone else if he rules only on traffic tickets. Moreover, if judges cared only about Principle, political intervention in the judiciary would be observed even in equilibrium, yet would have no deterrent effect. Any judge so inclined would rule against the Administration in blind defiance of career effects. Even then, however, our regressions would be valuable. Deterrence is one of the main goals of punishment, but another is incapacitation. With criminals, prison time takes the criminal off the street even if he steals again the moment he is set free. With judges, branch office time takes the judge away from administrative power and from the courts where the big issues are decided, even if it leaves his will to issue anti-government opinions unchanged. Below, we will ask if anti-government judges are sent to less influential positions. The judge himself may like a branch office position in the hinterland just as well as being Secretary-General of the Secretariat, but the administration would be much happier with him in the hinterland, and the implication for public policy are the same as if he regretted his exile. After the first attempt to influence public policy, he would forfeit future opportunities. Indeed, the administration might even hope for this kind of single-minded judicial motivation-- it would make smoking out unreliable judges much easier, at an earlier stage of their careers.