The Unbearable Lightness of Rankings
In September 2010, Maclean’s magazine published its fourth annual survey of Canadian law schools. As some of you will know, Maclean’s ranks Canada’s common law and civil law schools according to criteria of its own choosing, which includes selective approaches to“elite firm hiring,” “faculty citations” and “national reach,” among others. Canadian Lawyer, in its last survey in 2008, ranked law schools according to the results of wide-ranging student surveys. For the past number of years, Osgoode has enjoyed relative success in these rankings, regularly finishing as the first, second or third highest-rated common law school in Canada. While I would never pass up an opportunity to bask in the glow of positive news for Osgoode, I bring real ambivalence to rankings, and I want to explain why.
I believe we should be committed to excellence in everything we do, and as part of that commitment, we need to rely on quantitative and qualitative evaluation, benchmarks and both internal and external assessments of our performance. I am deeply skeptical, though, as to what those who conduct surveys tend to value in legal education. The Maclean’s list of criteria does not include, for example, the quality of graduate programs, the number or depth of clinical/experiential learning opportunities, the success or breadth of a school’s mooting and advocacy programs, the diversity of the entering class, or the commitment to innovative pedagogy among faculty, just to scratch the surface of what is left out.
To be sure, there are a wide variety of measures that could define what makes a law school excellent. A law school could be judged on its competitiveness (so that students vote with their feet and the hardest school to get in “wins”) or by the relative impact of our alumni (so that whichever school’s graduates predominate in the leadership of legal, political, social, and economic life “wins”). Any attempt to rank law schools, of course, will be subjective; and my instincts on what distinguishes the best from the rest, at the end of the day, will be no more or less legitimate than someone else’s. The real value of comparative assessment, in my view, is not that it provides a truth about which school is better, but rather that it gauges our aspiration to perform to the highest degree possible in the areas we care most about.
For example, students come to Osgoode not just to receive a stellar legal education but also as a jumping-off point for a diverse array of ambitious career goals. The percentage of Osgoode graduates who secure the best positions in the field of their choice after graduation (whether a dream job with a firm, clinic or government office, a clerkship, an internship overseas, or a spot in a well-funded graduate program), relative to other schools, would be a comparative measure that makes sense to me, because it is an aspiration we care about. It is an outcome which depends not just on the reputation of the school, or the resources a school invests in career development, but also the effectiveness of the school’s mentorship program and alumni network, the quality of the curriculum in preparing students for whatever might come next and the impact of law school debt on career choice. Of course, this is just a single measure and does not speak to many of the other missions of Osgoode, from city-building through community leadership, to reimagining ideas of law through research, scholarship and the alchemy of the classroom. The list could (and should) be a long one, and measurement is not (and should not) be uncomplicated.
While we may never find the perfect mix of categories and criteria to arrive at an optimal ranking, our commitment to pursuing the values we share as a law school community, and our willingness to dedicate ourselves to improve any area in which we do not excel, define Osgoode more than any first, second or third placing ever will.