Court Data: Now You See It, Now You Don’t
Some time
ago, over lunch, I spoke with a justice who leads a team at a supreme court.
Our conversation began with UNODC’s work to support women judges, but soon
turned to a deceptively simple question: how should courts use performance
data?
This
question brought back a vivid memory from my own time as a judge. As an
experiment, our team received a printout showing how many judgments each judge
had produced over a given period. One colleague appeared to be performing
exceptionally poorly. Yet the figures did not lead to a constructive
conversation. My team leader felt he could hardly send this distinguished
former lawyer to a judgment-writing course without embarrassing him. The
printouts disappeared—and we never saw them again.
From embarrassment to improvement
The
problem was not the data itself. It was the culture surrounding it. The figures
were treated as a ranking—as evidence of winners and losers—rather than as a
starting point for learning. So, I asked my colleague how she used the
information generated by her court’s case-management system. Did it help her
identify difficulties? Did she discuss it regularly with team members? Could
judges see their own results, or those of the team as a whole?
She told
me that she used the data primarily to spot problems. That is valuable—but it
is only the beginning. I believe the entire team should have access to the
team’s performance data, provided the figures are interpreted carefully and
used fairly. Transparency allows judges to understand the average, see
patterns, identify colleagues who may be able to offer advice, and recognize
where they themselves can help. Used well, shared data can strengthen a culture
of cooperation rather than competition.
What court data can reveal
Three of
the most common, useful measures concern timeliness: clearance rate, time to
disposition, and the age of the active pending caseload. Together, they show
whether a court is keeping pace with incoming work, resolving cases within
expected time frames, and allowing unresolved matters to grow old.
These
measures are useful precisely because they can expose problems that are not
obvious from individual output alone. While helping to design a digital
procedure for appellate courts, for example, I discovered that the courts’
biggest constraint was a shortage of hearing rooms. If a case must wait nine
months for a room, improvements elsewhere in case management will have only a
limited effect.
Court data
can reveal much more. Changes in the volume or type of filings may show whether
diversion programs, alternative dispute resolution, or procedural reforms are
working. Backlogs—cases that should already have been resolved—may point to
bottlenecks, staffing shortages, or mismatched funding. Those pressures can
also fall disproportionately on particular groups of court users. Data should
therefore prompt questions, not merely produce rankings.
When measurement becomes a target
Performance
measures also create risks. When funding or prestige is tied too closely to a
metric, people may be tempted to manipulate the metric rather than improve the
underlying work. In one recent case, a former colleague faced criminal charges
for allegedly falsifying the signatures of two other judges on decisions he had
made alone. The court received more funding for cases decided by a three-judge
chamber than for cases decided by a single judge. His defense was that he had
acted in the court’s interest.
That
example captures the paradox of performance data. Hide the figures, and courts
lose opportunities to learn. Turn them into crude targets, and the figures can
distort behavior. The better approach is transparent, contextual, and
developmental: share the data, discuss what lies behind them, and use them to
improve systems as well as individual practice. Court data should be a mirror,
not a scoreboard—and never a reward for making the numbers look good.
