SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
No. 18–916
_________________
THRYV, INC., fka DEX MEDIA, INC., PETITIONER
v. CLICK-TO-CALL TECHNOLOGIES, LP, et al.
on writ of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the federal circuit
[April 20, 2020]
Justice Gorsuch, with whom Justice Sotomayor
joins as to Parts I, II, III, and IV, dissenting.
Today the Court takes a flawed premise—that the
Constitution permits a politically guided agency to revoke an
inventor’s property right in an issued patent—and bends it further,
allowing the agency’s decision to stand immune from judicial
review. Worse, the Court closes the courthouse not in a case where
the patent owner is merely unhappy with the merits of the agency’s
decision but where the owner claims the agency’s proceedings were
unlawful from the start. Most remarkably, the Court denies judicial
review even though the government now concedes that the patent
owner is
right and this entire exercise in
property-taking-by-bureaucracy was forbidden by law.
It might be one thing if Congress clearly
ordained this strange result. But it did not. The relevant statute,
the presumption of judicial review, and our precedent all point
toward allowing, not forbidding, inventors their day in court. Yet,
the Court brushes past these warning signs and, in the process,
carries us another step down the road of ceding core judicial
powers to agency officials and leaving the disposition of private
rights and liberties to bureaucratic mercy.
I
Our story stretches back to the 1990s, when
Stephen DuVal invented a system for anonymizing telephone calls.
Believing in the promise of his idea, Mr. DuVal hired an attorney
to secure a patent and sought avenues to bring his invention to
market. Initially, both efforts met with success. In 1998, Mr.
DuVal was awarded a U. S. Patent, which he licensed to a
company called InfoRocket.com, Inc.
But problems soon emerged. In 2001, InfoRocket
accused Ingenio, Inc., a predecessor of today’s petitioner Thryv,
Inc., of infringing Mr. DuVal’s patent. The case carried on in
federal district court for more than a year before InfoRocket and
Ingenio decided to merge. The companies then jointly persuaded the
court to dismiss InfoRocket’s lawsuit without prejudice.
Still, the quiet did not last long. Following
the merger, the surviving entity—for simplicity, call it
Thryv—sought to turn the tables on Mr. DuVal by asking the Patent
Office to reconsider the validity of his patent in an ex parte
reexamination. That agency-led process dragged on for four more
years, and ended with a mixed verdict: The Patent Office canceled a
few claims, but amended others and permitted Mr. DuVal to add some
new ones too.
Even the ex parte reexamination wasn’t
enough to put the parties’ disputes to rest. During the
reexamination, Thryv terminated its license with Mr. DuVal and
stopped paying him royalties. But it seems that Thryv continued
using the patented technology all the same. So Mr. Duval
transferred his patent to respondent Click-to-Call Technologies LP
(CTC), which swiftly took the patent back to court. CTC noted that
Thryv couldn’t exactly plead ignorance about this patent, given
that the company or its predecessors had previously licensed the
patent, been sued for infringing it, and asked the Patent Office to
reexamine it. When it came to Mr. DuVal’s patent, CTC alleged,
Thryv had done just about everything one can do to a patent except
invent it.
Thryv responded by opening another new
litigation front of its own. One year after CTC filed its federal
lawsuit, Thryv lodged another administrative petition with the Pat-
ent Office, this time seeking inter partes review. Echoing some of
the same arguments that led to its push for an ex parte
administrative reexamination nine years earlier, and adding other
arguments too, Thryv (again) asked the agency to cancel Mr. DuVal’s
patent on the grounds that it lacked novelty and was obvious. At
the same time, Thryv sought to stay proceedings in CTC’s
infringement suit. Thryv argued that the district court should
defer to the newly initiated inter partes review. Like many
district courts facing the prospect of parallel administrative
proceedings, this one obliged.
Why at this late hour did Thryv prefer to
litigate before the agency rather than a federal district court?
The agency’s ex parte reexamination years earlier hadn’t
helped Thryv much. But since then, Congress had adopted the
Leahy-Smith America Invents Act (AIA), 35 U. S. C. §100
et seq. That law created the inter partes review
process, which provides a number of benefits to accused infringers
such as Thryv. Like federal court litigation, inter partes review
holds the advantage of allowing a private party attacking a
patent’s validity to participate in adversarial proceedings, rather
than rely on the agency to direct its own investigation as it does
in ex parte reexamination. Compare 35 U. S. C. §316
with §§302, 304, 305. Inter partes review also allows a party
challenging a patent all manner of discovery, including depositions
and the presentation of expert testimony. §316; 37 CFR
§§42.51–42.65 (2019). At the same time, the burden of proof is
lower—requiring challengers like Thryv to prove unpatentability
only by a preponderance of the evidence, §316(e), rather than under
the clear and convincing standard that usually applies in court.
Microsoft Corp. v.
i4i L. P.,
564 U.S.
91 (2011). Perhaps most appealing, proceedings take place
before the Patent Trial and Appeal Board, rather than in an Article
III court, so there is no jury trial before a tenure-protected
judge, only a hearing before a panel of agency employees.
Some say the new regime represents a
particularly efficient new way to “kill” patents. Certainly, the
numbers tell an inviting story for petitioners like Thryv. In
approximately 80% of cases reaching a final decision, the Board
cancels some or all of the challenged claims. Patent Trial and
Appeal Board, Trial Statistics 10 (Feb. 2020),
https://www.uspto.gov/sites/default/files/documents/
Trial_Statistics_2020_02_29.pdf. The Board has been busy, too,
instituting more than 800 of these new proceedings every year. See
id., at 6.
Still, Thryv faced a hurdle. Inter partes review
“may not be instituted” based on an administrative petition filed
more than a year after “the petitioner, real party in interest, or
privy of the petitioner is served with a complaint alleging
infringement of the patent” in federal court. 35 U. S. C.
§315(b). So, while Congress sought to move many cases out of court
and into its new administrative process, it thought patent owners
who have already endured long challenges in court shouldn’t have to
face another layer of administrative review. After all,
some
repose is due inventors. Patents typically last 20 years; what
happens to the incentive to invent if litigation over them lasts
even longer (as it has for Mr. DuVal)? By anyone’s estimation, too,
§315(b)’s time bar was sure to pose a special problem for Thryv.
Yes, Thryv had petitioned for inter partes review one year after
being served with CTC’s complaint. But nearly
12 years had
passed since Thryv’s predecessor and privy first found itself on
the business end of a lawsuit alleging that it had infringed Mr.
DuVal’s patent.
Despite this apparently fatal defect, the Board
plowed ahead anyway. No one could dispute that Thryv’s predecessor
and privy had been “served with a complaint alleging infringement
of the patent” more than a decade earlier. But that complaint
didn’t count, the Board declared, because it was dismissed without
prejudice. The Board cited nothing in §315(b) suggesting this
distinction makes a difference under the statute’s plain terms.
Instead, the Board tiptoed past the problem and proceeded to
invalidate almost all of the patent claims before it, even those
the Patent Office itself had affirmed in its own ex parte
proceeding years before. No doubt this was exactly what Thryv hoped
for in its second bite at the administrative apple.
Thryv’s victory may have taken years to achieve,
but it didn’t seem calculated to last long. Predictably, CTC
appealed the Board’s interpretation of §315(b) to the Federal
Circuit. And just as unsurprisingly, the court held that dismissed
complaints
do count as complaints, so Thryv’s inter partes
administrative challenge was time barred from the start. Mr.
DuVal’s patent had already survived one ex parte reexamination
Thryv instigated. The patent had been the subject of long and
repeated litigation in federal courts. The agency had no business
opening yet another new inquiry into this very old patent.
But Thryv had one maneuver left. It sought
review in this Court, insisting that Article III courts lack
authority even to say what the law demands. According to Thryv, a
different provision, §314(d), renders the agency’s interpretations
and applications of §315(b) immune from judicial review. So the
Board can err; it can even act in defiance of plain congressional
limits on its authority. But, in Thryv’s view, a court can do
nothing about it. Enforcement of §315(b)’s time bar falls only to
the very Patent Office officials whose authority it seeks to
restrain. Inventors like Mr. DuVal just have to hope that the
bureaucracy revoking their property rights will take the extra
trouble of doing so in accordance with law.
That’s the strange place we now find ourselves.
Thryv managed to persuade the Court to grant its petition for
certiorari to consider its extraordinary argument. And today the
Court vindicates its last and most remarkable maneuver.
II
A
How could §314(d) insulate from judicial
review the agency’s—admittedly mistaken—interpretation of an
entirely different provision, §315(b)? The answer is that it
doesn’t.
To see why, look no further than §314(d). The
statute tells us that “[t]he determination by the Director whether
to institute an inter partes review under this section shall be
final and nonappealable.” So the
only thing §314(d)
insulates from judicial review is “[t]he determination” made “by
the Director” “under this section”—that is, a determination
discussed
within §314. Nothing in the statute insulates
agency interpretations of other provisions
outside §314,
including those involving §315(b).
This arrangement makes sense. Given that §314(d)
speaks of “[t]he” determination by the Director “under this
section,” it comes as no surprise that the section mentions just
one such “determination.” It is found in §314(a), where the
Director “determines” whether the parties’ initial pleadings
suggest “a reasonable likelihood” the petitioner will prevail in
defeating at least some aspect of the challenged patent. And it is
easy to see why Congress might make a preliminary merits assessment
like that exempt from further view: If the Director institutes a
meritless petition, the Board can summarily affirm the patent’s
validity. See §318(a); 37 CFR §§42.71–42.73. In any event, the
Board is obligated to render a final—and judicially
reviewable—decision within a year. 35 U. S. C. §§141(c),
316(a)(11), 318(a), 319. So judicial review of the Director’s
initial appraisal of the merits isn’t really
eliminated as
much as it is
channeled toward the Board’s final decision on
those merits. That process finds a ready analogue elsewhere in our
law. Much as here, an indicted criminal defendant unhappy with a
grand jury’s finding of probable cause isn’t permitted to challenge
that preliminary assessment, but may instead move the court for
acquittal after the government has presented all its evidence. See
Costello v.
United States,
350
U.S. 359, 363 (1956); Fed. Rule Crim. Proc. 29(a).
Matters
outside §314 are different. Take
the provision before us, §315(b). It promises that an inter partes
review “may not be instituted” more than a year after the
initiation of litigation. This stands as an affirmative limit on
the agency’s authority. Much like a statute of limitations, this
provision supplies an argument a party can continue to press
throughout the life of the administrative proceeding and on appeal.
Nothing in §315(b) speaks of a “deter- mination by the Director,”
let alone suggests that the agency’s initial ruling on a petition’s
timeliness is “final and nonappealable.”
To pretend otherwise would invite a linguistic
nonsense. We would have to read §314’s language speaking of “[t]he”
“determination” “under this section” to include not one
determination but two—and to include not only the determination
actually made under “this section” but also a second assessment
made about the effect of an entirely different section.
To pretend otherwise would invite a practical
nonsense as well. Because the Director’s initial “reasonable
likelihood” determination under §314(a) relates to the merits, it
will be effectively reviewed both by the Board and courts as the
case progresses. But when does the Director’s application of
§315(b)’s time bar get another look? Under Thryv’s interpretation,
a provision that reads like an affirmative limit on the agency’s
authority reduces to a mere suggestion. No matter how wrong or even
purposefully evasive, the Director’s assessment of a petition’s
timeliness is always immune from review. And even that’s not the
end of it. In other cases, the Board has claimed
it has the
right to review these initial timeliness decisions, and Thryv seems
content with those rulings. See,
e.g., Medtronic, Inc. v.
Robert Bosch Healthcare Systems, Inc., 839 F.3d 1382 (CA
Fed. 2016). So it turns out the company doesn’t really want to make
an initial administrative timeliness decisions
final; it
just wants to make them
unreviewable in court, defying once
more §314’s plain language and any rational explanation, except
maybe as an expedient to win the day’s case.
B
Confronting so many problems in the statute’s
text, Thryv seeks a way around them by offering a competing account
of the law’s operation. While §314 empowers the Director to make an
institution decision, Thryv asserts that various provisions
scattered throughout the chapter—such as §§314(a), 315(a)(1), and
315(b)—help guide the decision. And on Thryv’s interpretation,
all questions related to the Director’s institution decision
should be insulated from review, no matter where those rules are
found. What about the fact §314 speaks of insulating only “[t]he”
“determination” “under this section”? Thryv says this language
serves merely to indicate
which institution authority is
unreviewable—namely, the Director’s authority to institute an inter
partes proceeding pursuant to §314, rather than pursuant to some
other provision.
This interpretation, however, makes a nullity of
the very language it purports to explain. Section 314 is the
only section that authorizes the Director to institute inter
partes review, making it pointless for Congress to tell us that
we’re talking about the Director’s §314 inter partes review
institution authority as opposed to
some other inter
partes review institution authority. In fact, you can strike “under
this section” from §314(d) and Thryv’s interpretation remains
unchanged. That’s a pretty good clue something has gone wrong.
Faced with this problem of surplusage, Thryv
alludes to the possibility that Congress included redundant
language to be “double sure.” But double sure of what? Thryv does
not identify any confusion that the phrase “under this section”
might help avoid. Given the lack of
any other provision,
anywhere in the U. S. Code, authorizing
anyone
to institute inter partes review, even the most obtuse reader would
never have any use for the clarification supposedly provided by
“under this section” on Thryv’s account.
Maybe so, Thryv replies, but we shouldn’t worry
about the surplusage here because the AIA contains surplusage
elsewhere. The other putative examples of surplusage Thryv
identifies, however, have no bearing on the provision now before
us. And even a passing glance reveals no surplusage in them either.
Consider §315(c). It says that “the Director, in his or her
discretion, may join as a party to that inter partes review any
person who properly files a petition
under section 311 that
the Director, after receiving a preliminary response
under
section 313 . . . , determines warrants the
institution of an inter partes review
under section 314.”
(Emphasis added.) Thryv argues that all these cross-references are
unnecessary. But look closely: Each of §315(c)’s cross-references
does important work to establish the rules for joinder. Strike the
first and the requirements of a joinder petition become undefined.
Strike the second and it’s a mystery what kind of response the
patent owner is entitled to file. Strike the third and the
Director’s determination whether to grant joinder becomes
standardless. All of this language has a point to it—just as “under
this section” does under a faithful interpretation of §314(d).
That leaves Thryv only one more tenuous textual
lifeline left to toss. If Congress had wanted to insulate from
review only “[t]he” “determination” that a petition has a “reason-
able likelihood” of success, the company suggests, Congress could
have spoken of insulating “the determination under subsection (a)”
rather than “the determination under this section.” And Thryv
reminds us that Congress used that latter formulation in nearby and
predecessor statutes. See,
e.g., §303(c) (“[a] determination
by the Director pursuant to subsection (a) of this section
. . . will be final and nonappealable”); §312(c) (2006
ed.; repealed 2011) (“[a] determination by the Director under
subsection (a) shall be final and non-appealable”).
But so what? One could replace the phrase “my
next-door neighbor to the west” with “my neighbor at 123 Main
Street” (assuming that is her address) and the meaning would be the
same. Likewise, it hardly matters whether Congress spoke of the
“determination” “under this section” or “under subsection (a).”
Either way, our attention is directed within, not beyond, §314. And
what’s Thryv’s alternative? It would have us read language speaking
of the Director’s determination “under this section” to encompass
any decision related to the initiation of inter partes review found
anywhere in the AIA—an entire chapter of the U. S. Code.
That’s sort of like reading “my next-door neighbor to the west” to
include “anyone in town.” Nor do things get better for Thryv with a
careful assessment of nearby and predecessor statutes. They reveal
that Congress knew exactly how to give broader directions like the
one Thryv imagines when it wished to do so. See,
e.g.,
§314(b) (directing our attention to the Director’s decision whether
to institute inter partes review “under this chapter” rather than
“under this section”).
Without any plausible textual or contextual hook
for its position, Thryv finishes by advancing a parade of policy
horribles. It notes that the AIA imposes lots of
other
constraints on inter partes review besides the §315(b) timing
provision now before us. For example, the law bars petitioners who
have filed declaratory judgment actions from challenging the same
patent in inter partes review proceedings, §315(a)(1), and it
estops petitioners from seeking other forms of review once an inter
partes proceeding finishes, §315(e). If courts are going to review
the agency’s application of §315(b), Thryv wonders, are they going
to have to review the agency’s application of these other
provisions too?
But we could just as easily march this parade in
the opposite direction. Even assuming (without deciding) that Thryv
is right and the reviewability of all these provisions stands or
falls together, that seems at least as good an argument for as
against judicial review. If so much more is at stake, if many more
kinds of agency errors could be insulated from correction, isn’t
that a greater reason to pay assiduous attention to the statute’s
terms? Surely, Thryv’s professed concern for judicial economy
supplies no license to ignore our duty to decide the cases properly
put to us in accord with the statute’s terms.
III
This last point leads to another reason why we
should reject Thryv’s reading of the statute. Even if the company
could muster some doubt about the reach of §314(d), it wouldn’t be
enough to overcome the “well-settled presumption favoring
interpretations of statutes that allow judicial review of
administrative action.”
McNary v.
Haitian Refugee Center,
Inc.,
498 U.S.
479, 496 (1991). As this Court has long explained, “we will
. . . find an intent to preclude such review only if
presented with clear and convincing evidence.”
Reno v.
Catholic Social Services, Inc.,
509 U.S.
43, 64 (1993) (internal quotation marks omitted).
The presumption of judicial review is deeply
rooted in our history and separation of powers. To guard against
arbitrary government, our founders knew, elections are not enough:
“An elective despotism was not the government we fought for.” The
Federalist No. 48, p. 311 (C. Rossiter ed. 1961) (emphasis
deleted). In a government “founded on free principles,” no one
person, group, or branch may hold all the keys of power over a
private person’s liberty or property.
Ibid. Instead, power
must be set against power, “divided and balanced among several
bodies . . . checked and restrained by the others.”
Ibid. As Chief Justice Marshall put it: “It would excite
some surprise if, in a government of laws and of principle
. . . a department whose appropriate duty it is to decide
questions of right, not only between individuals, but between the
government and individuals,” a statute might leave that individual
“with no remedy, no appeal to the laws of his country, if he should
believe the claim to be unjust.”
United States v.
Nourse, 9 Pet. 8, 28–29 (1835).
It should come as an equal surprise to think
Congress might have imposed an express limit on an executive
bureaucracy’s authority to decide the rights of individuals, and
then entrusted that agency with the sole power to enforce the
limits of its own authority. Yet on Thryv’s account, §315(b)’s
command that “inter partes review
may not be instituted”
would be left entrusted to the good faith of the very executive
officials it is meant to constrain. (Emphasis added.) We do not
normally rush to a conclusion that Congress has issued such
“ ‘blank checks drawn to the credit of some administrative
officer.’ ”
Bowen v.
Michigan Academy of Family
Physicians,
476 U.S.
667, 671 (1986) (quoting S. Rep. No. 752, 79th Cong., 1st
Sess., 26 (1945)).
That usually may be the case, Thryv counters,
but this statute’s unusually modest purpose makes it plausible to
think Congress meant to shield its application from judicial
review. After all, the company submits, §315(b) is not really a
firm limit on the agency’s authority, only a claim processing rule.
For proof, the company reminds us that §315(b) bars challengers who
have already spent a year litigating in court from petitioning the
agency, but leaves open the possibility that the agency might still
institute inter partes review if a different, eligible petitioner
happens to come along. And this theoretical possibility, Thryv
tells us, suggests that the agency was meant to be allowed to act
as it wants.
But Thryv’s reply here is like saying Article
III’s “case or controversy” requirement isn’t really a limit on the
power of federal courts, because it’s always possible that
some litigant with a live dispute will come forward and
require the court to settle a particular legal question. The
implacable fact is that nothing in the AIA gives the Director or
the Board freewheeling authority to conduct inter partes review.
The statute demands the participation of a real party in interest,
a petitioner who is not barred by prior litigation and who is
willing to face estoppel should he lose. §§311(a), 315. And if, as
seems likely in our case and many others, no one is willing and
able to meet those conditions, the law does not permit inter partes
review. So rather than a claim processing rule, §315 is both a
constraint on the agency’s power and a valuable guarantee that a
patent owner must battle the same foe only once.
Realizing that its textual arguments are too
strained to demonstrate clearly and convincingly that Congress
meant to displace judicial review, Thryv asks us to draw
“inferences” from the AIA “as a whole.” Brief for Petitioner 16
(internal quotation marks omitted). In particular, the company
tells us that Congress’s “overriding purpose” in creating inter
partes review was to “weed out poor quality pat- ents,” and that
judicial enforcement of §315(b) would slow this progress.
Id., at 24 (quotation altered). But to support its thematic
account of the law’s goals, Thryv rests on one thin reed after
another—a House Report here, a floor statement there, and a few
quotations from
Cuozzo Speed Technologies, LLC v.
Lee, 579 U. S. ___ (2016), that summarize these same
sources. All the rest is generously filled in by the company’s own
account about how inter partes review
ought to work.
That’s far from enough. The historic presumption
of judicial review has never before folded before a couple stray
pieces of legislative history and naked policy appeals. Besides,
Thryv’s submissions cannot withstand the mildest inspection even on
their own terms. No one doubts that Congress authorized inter
partes review to encourage further scrutiny of already issued
patents. But lost in Thryv’s telling about the purposes of the AIA
is plenty of evidence that Congress
also included provisions
to preserve the value of patents and protect the rights of patent
owners. For example, Congress sharply limited the legal grounds
that might be pursued in inter partes review, §311(b); afforded
patent owners an opportunity to respond to petitions prior to
institution, §313; and, most relevant today, protected patent
owners from the need to fight a two-front war before both the Board
and federal district court, §315. Legislating involves compromise
and it would be naive to think that, as the price for their zealous
new procedures for canceling pat- ents, those who proposed the AIA
didn’t have to accept
some protections like these for patent
holders. Yet, Thryv glides past all these provisions without
comment. Worse, taking the company’s argument to its logical
conclusion could render these protections into “ ‘merely
advisory’ ” features of the law.
Bowen, 476 U. S.,
at 671. If adopted, Thryv’s vision of an administrative regime
singularly focused on the efficient canceling of patents could
become self-fulfilling.
A case decided just weeks ago supplies a telling
point of comparison. In
Guerrero-Lasprilla v.
Barr,
589 U. S. ___ (2020), Congress sought to expedite the removal
of aliens convicted of certain aggravated felonies by foreclosing
judicial review of their cases unless they raised “questions of
law.” See 8 U. S. C. §§1252(a)(2)(C), (D). But the
statute there was ambiguous about mixed questions of law and fact:
Were these (reviewable) questions of law, or (unreviewable)
determinations of fact? Because the statute could be interpreted
either way, this Court held, the presumption of reviewability
preserved the aliens’ ability to argue mixed questions on appeal.
Today, the textual arguments for shielding the agency’s decision
from review are even weaker, and the same presumption that
preserved judicial review for felons seeking discretionary relief
from removal should do no less work for patent holders seeking to
defend their inventions.
IV
Even if the statute’s plain language and the
presumption in favor of review dictate a ruling against it, Thryv
finishes by suggesting we must ignore all that and rule for it
anyway because precedent commands it. Maybe our precedent is wrong,
the company says, but it binds us all the same.
In particular, Thryv points us to
Cuozzo.
There, the Court suggested that §314(d) could preclude review in
cases: (1) where a litigant challenges the Director’s reasonable
likelihood of success determination under §314(a), or (2) where a
litigant “grounds its claim in a statute closely related to that
decision to institute inter partes review.” 579 U. S.
,
at
___ (slip op., at 12). That first path is faithful to the
plain language of §314(d). The second appears nowhere in the
statute but is, instead, a product of the judicial imagination.
Still, Thryv says, we must follow that path wherever it leads and,
because §315(b) decisions are “closely related” to §314(a)
decisions, we shouldn’t review them.
But
Cuozzo hardly held so much. In fact,
Cuozzo had no need to explore the second path it imagined,
for it quickly concluded that the argument before it was “little
more than a challenge to the Patent Office’s conclusion under
§314(a),” a decision shielded from judicial review under any
interpretation of §314(d).
Id., at ___ (slip op., at 12). So
all the discussion about the reviewability of decisions outside
§314(a) turned out to be nothing more than dicta entirely
unnecessary to the decision. Nor did anything in
Cuozzo
directly address §315(b) decisions, let alone declare them to be
“close enough” to §314(a) decisions to preclude judicial
review.
That’s just the beginning of Thryv’s precedent
problems, too. In
SAS Institute Inc. v.
Iancu, 584
U. S. ___ (2018), an inter partes review petitioner challenged
the Director’s practice of instituting review of some, but not all,
of the claims challenged in a single petition. The government
argued there—much as Thryv argues today—that §314(d) shielded this
unlawful practice from judicial review. In advancing this argument,
the government seized on the same language in
Cuozzo that
Thryv now embraces, claiming that its opponent’s “grounds for
attacking the decision . . . are closely tied” to the
§314(a) institution decision. Brief for Federal Respondent in
SAS Institute Inc. v.
Iancu, O. T. 2017,
No. 16–969, p. 13. Because no one could say that the
petitioner’s argument in
SAS Institute was “little more than
a challenge to the Patent Office’s conclusion under §314(a),” 584
U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 13), we were forced to confront
whether
Cuozzo and the relevant statutes actually barred not
just institution decisions under §314(a) but things “closely
related” to them.
We held they did not. We began, as we did in
Cuozzo, by noting the “strong presumption in favor of
judicial review.”
SAS Institute, 584 U. S., at ___
(slip op., at 13) (internal quotation marks omitted). We then put
an end to any doubt about what the dicta in that case might mean:
“Given the strength of this presumption and the statute’s text,
Cuozzo concluded that §314(d) precludes judicial review
only of the Director’s ‘initial determination’ under
§314(a).”
Ibid. (quoting
Cuozzo, 579 U. S., at
___ (slip op., at 9); emphasis added). We did not need to overrule
Cuozzo, because the language the government seized upon from
that opinion was dicta from the start. Still, we made it clear that
dicta’s day had come: To read
Cuozzo as “foreclosing
judicial review of any legal question bearing on the institution
decision,” we explained, would “overrea[d] both the statute and our
precedent.”
SAS Institute, 584 U. S., at ___–___ (slip
op., at 12–13). The petitioner’s challenge to the Director’s
partial institution practice could go forward exactly because it
was something other than a disagreement about the Director’s
initial determination under §314(a).
Id., at ___–___ (slip
op., at 13–14).
It’s not surprising that litigants would invite
us to overread dicta or overlook an unfavorable precedent. What is
surprising is that the Court would accept the invitation. In
‘‘cases involving property,” after all, “considerations favoring
stare decisis are at their acme.”
Kimble v.
Marvel
Entertainment, LLC, 576 U.S. 446, 457 (2015) (internal
quotation marks omitted). And we are often reminded that “
stare
decisis carries enhanced force when a decision . . .
interprets a statute.”
Id., at 456. But rather than
searching for the kind of “superspecial justification,”
id.,
at 458, this Court supposedly requires to overrule a precedent like
SAS Institute, today’s majority quibbles with a few
sentences and quietly walks away. If, as some have worried, “[e]ach
time the Court overrules a case, the Court . . . cause[s]
the public to become increasingly uncertain about which cases the
Court will overrule,”
Franchise Tax Bd. of Cal. v.
Hyatt, 587 U. S. ___, ___ (2019) (slip op., at 13),
(Breyer, J., dissenting), one can only imagine what a judicial
shrug of the shoulders like this might yield.
Litigants and lower courts will also have to be
forgiven for the confusion to come about the meaning of §314(d)’s
review bar. Whether it is limited to the §314(a) determination (as
SAS Institute held and parts of
Cuozzo
suggested) or also reaches to challenges grounded in “closely
related” statutes (as other parts of
Cuozzo suggested and
the Court insists today)—who can say? And even supposing that
“closely related to institution” really is the test we’ll apply
next time, does anyone know what this judicially concocted
formulation even means? Despite three opinions interpreting the
same provision in under five years, only one thing is clear:
Neither the statute nor our precedent can be counted upon to give
the answer. Litigants and lower courts alike will just have to wait
and see.
V
It’s a rough day when a decision manages to
defy the plain language of a statute, our interpretative
presumptions,
and our precedent. But today that’s not the
worst of it. The Court’s expansive reading of §314(d) takes us
further down the road of handing over judicial powers involving the
disposition of individual rights to executive agency officials.
We started the wrong turn in
Oil States
Energy Services, LLC v.
Greene’s Energy Group, LLC, 584
U. S. ___ (2018). There, a majority of this Court acquiesced
to the AIA’s provisions allowing agency officials to withdraw
already-issued patents subject to very limited judicial review. As
the majority saw it, patents are merely another public franchise
that can be withdrawn more or less by executive grace. So what if
patents were, for centuries, regarded as a form of personal
property that, like any other, could be taken only by a judgment of
a court of law. So what if our separation of powers and history
frown on unfettered executive power over individuals, their
liberty, and their property. What the government gives, the
government may take away—with or without the involvement of the
independent Judiciary. Today, a majority compounds that error by
abandoning a good part of what little judicial review even the AIA
left behind.
Just try to imagine this Court treating other
individual liberties or forms of private property this way. Major
portions of this country were settled by homesteaders who moved
west on the promise of land patents from the federal government.
Much like an inventor seeking a patent for his invention, settlers
seeking these governmental grants had to satisfy a number of
conditions. But once a patent issued, the granted lands became the
recipient’s private property, a vested right that could be
withdrawn only in a court of law. No one thinks we would allow a
bureaucracy in Washington to “cancel” a citizen’s right to his
farm, and do so despite the government’s admission that it acted in
violation of the very statute that gave it this supposed authority.
For most of this Nation’s history it was thought an invention
patent holder “holds a property in his invention by as good a title
as the farmer holds his farm and flock.”
Hovey v.
Henry, 12 F. Cas. 603, 604 (No. 6,742) (CC Mass. 1846)
(Woodbury, J., for the court). Yet now inventors hold nothing for
long without executive grace. An issued patent becomes nothing more
than a transfer slip from one agency window to another.
Some seek to dismiss this concern by noting that
the bureaucracy the AIA empowers to revoke patents is the same one
that grants them. But what comfort is that when the Constitution
promises an independent judge in any case involving the deprivation
of life, liberty, or property? Would it make things any better if
we assigned the Department of the Interior the task of canceling
land patents because that agency initially allocated many of them?
The relevant constitutional fact is not which agency granted a
property right, but that a property right was granted.
The abdication of our judicial duty comes with a
price. The Director of the Patent and Trademark Office is a
political appointee. The AIA vests him with unreviewable authority
to institute (or not) inter partes review. Nothing would prevent
him, it seems, from insulating his favorite firms and industries
from this process entirely. Those who are not so fortunate proceed
to an administrative “trial” before a panel of agency employees
that the Director also has the means to control. The AIA gives the
Director the power to select which employees, and how many of them,
will hear any particular inter partes challenge. It also gives him
the power to decide how much they are paid. And if a panel reaches
a result he doesn’t like, the Director claims he may order
rehearing before a new panel, of any size, and including even
himself.
No one can doubt that this regime favors those
with political clout, the powerful and the popular. But what about
those who lack the resources or means to influence and maybe even
capture a politically guided agency? Consider Mr. DuVal, who 25
years ago, came up with something the Patent Office agreed was
novel and useful. His patent survived not only that initial review
but a subsequent administrative ex parte review, a lawsuit,
and the initiation of another. Yet, now, after the patent has
expired, it is challenged in still another administrative
proceeding and retroactively expunged by an agency that has, by its
own admission, acted unlawfully.
That is what happens when
power is not balanced against power and executive action goes
unchecked by judicial review. Rather than securing incentives to
invent, the regime creates incentives to curry favor with officials
in Washington.
Nor is it hard to imagine what might lie around
the corner. Despite repeated lawsuits, no court ever ruled
definitively on Mr. DuVal’s patents. But suppose one had—and
suppose he had prevailed. According to the agency, even that
judgment might not matter much. In other cases, the Board has
claimed the power through inter partes review to overrule final
judicial judgments affirming patent rights. In the Director’s
estimation, it appears, even this Court’s decisions must bow to the
Board’s will. See
XY, LLC v.
Trans Ova Genetics, L.
C., 890 F.3d 1282, 1285–1286, 1294–1295 (CA Fed. 2018);
Fresenius USA, Inc. v.
Baxter Int’l,
Inc., 721
F. 3d 1330, 1340–1344 (CA Fed. 2013). It’s no wonder, then,
that district courts sometimes throw up their hands and let the
Board take over whenever inter partes review and patent litigation
begin to overlap. Why bother with a trial if “the finality of any
judgment rendered by [a] Court will be dubious”? Order Granting
Stay in
Click-to-call Technologies LP v.
Ingenio,
Inc., No. 12–cv–00465 (WD Tex.), Doc. No. 147, p. 4.
It’s understandable, too, why the agency might
think so much is up for grabs. Not only did this Court give away
much of its Article III authority in
Oil States on a
mistaken assessment that patents were historically treated as
public franchises rather than private rights. Some would have had
the Court go even further. Rather than looking to history to
determine how patents were treated, as both the majority and
dissent sought to do, these Members of the Court suggested that
agencies should be allowed to withdraw even private rights if “a
number of factors”—taken together, of course—suggest it’s a good
idea.
Commodity Futures Trading Comm’n v.
Schor,
478 U.S.
833, 851 (1986); see also
Oil States, 584 U. S., at
___ (Breyer, J., concurring) (slip op., at 1). These “factors” turn
out to include such definitive and easily balanced considerations
as the “nature of the claim,” the “nature of the non-Article III
tribunal,” and the “nature and importance of the legislative
purpose served by the grant of adjudicatory authority to a tribunal
with judges who lack Article III’s tenure and compensation
protections.”
Stern v.
Marshall,
564 U.S.
462, 513 (2011) (Breyer, J., dissenting). In other words,
Article III promises that a person’s private rights may be taken
only in proceedings before an independent judge,
unless the
government’s goals would be better served by a judge who isn’t so
independent.
Thryv seeks to assure us that affected parties
can still file writs of mandamus in courts if the Patent Office
gets
really out of hand. But the Court today will not say
whether mandamus is available where the §314(d) bar applies, and
the Federal Circuit has cast doubt on that possibility.
In re Power Integrations, Inc., 899 F.3d 1316, 1319
(2018) (“We have held that the statutory prohibition on appeals
from decisions not to institute inter partes review cannot be
sidestepped simply by styling the request for review as a petition
for mandamus”);
In re Procter & Gamble Co., 749 F.3d
1376 (2014);
In re Dominion Dealer Solutions, LLC., 749 F.3d
1379 (2014). Even assuming mandamus
is available, it is a
“drastic [remedy], to be invoked only in extraordinary situations.”
Kerr v.
United States Dist. Court for Northern Dist. of
Cal.,
426 U.S.
394, 402 (1976). To be eligible for this discretionary relief,
a petitioner must first show a “clear and indisputable” right.
Id., at 403 (internal quotation marks omitted). But how
often could a litigant show such a “clear and indisputable” right
in an area where courts shirk their duty to say what the law is in
the first place? And how would a court find the will to call a
situation “extraordinary” once the agency has been free for so long
to ignore the limits on its power? If the case before us doesn’t
qualify as “extraordinary,” and if the Board’s admitted flouting of
§315(b) isn’t “clear and indisputable,” then what extralegal act
wouldn’t be just another day at the office?
*
Two years ago, this Court sanctioned a
departure from the constitutional plan, one in which the Executive
Branch assumed responsibilities long reserved to the Judiciary. In
so doing, we denied inventors the right to have their claims tried
before independent judges and juries. Today we compound that error,
not only requiring patent owners to try their disputes before
employees of a political branch, but limiting their ability to
obtain judicial review when those same employees fail or refuse to
comply with the law. Nothing in the statue commands this result,
and nothing in the Constitution permits it. Respectfully, I
dissent.