Let me start with something that happened to me, because it taught me the lesson at the center of my book better than any case in a textbook could.
A forged check drained my bank account. This is not a close call or a matter of interpretation — the bank itself acknowledged, in writing, that the check was fraudulent. And then it reversed course and fought me. When the dispute went to arbitration, as my account agreement required, I learned that the arbitrator assigned to decide my case was employed by a firm that was simultaneously representing the opposing bank in other active litigation. In a courtroom, that is grounds for immediate disqualification — a judge with that conflict would be off the case before lunch. In arbitration, it's Tuesday.
I tell that story not because my own loss matters more than anyone else's, but because it made me understand what forced arbitration really is. The problem is not only that you tend to lose. The problem is that nobody ever finds out.
Secrecy is the point
A courtroom is public. When you sue a company in open court, a record is created. A judge writes an opinion. Reporters can read the file. Other victims learn they are not alone. Regulators notice the pattern. A precedent is set that binds the next case. Sunlight does its work.
Arbitration is the opposite by design. It is private and confidential. There is no public docket, no published opinion, no press access, no precedent. When a company forces your claim into arbitration, it isn't just moving the venue — it's switching off the lights. Whatever the company did to you happens in a sealed room, and when it's over, the record is sealed too. So the same overdraft scheme, the same billing trick, the same forged-signature practice can run on the next customer, and the next, and the next — because no one on the outside ever sees the pattern.
That is why I say forced arbitration is where corporate wrongdoing goes to hide. It is not a metaphor. It is the mechanism.
Wells Fargo is the proof
You don't have to take my word for it. Between 2002 and 2016, Wells Fargo employees opened roughly 3.5 million unauthorized accounts in customers' names — about 1.5 million bank accounts and 565,000 credit cards that people never asked for — forging signatures and racking up fees, all driven by a sales culture the CEO summed up as "Eight is Great." Customers were charged for accounts they never opened; some had their credit scores dinged by hard inquiries and fake delinquencies.
Here's the part that matters for this story: when those customers tried to fight back, the arbitration clauses in their real accounts were used to force them into individual, secret arbitration — over accounts they never opened. For years, that shield worked. The scandal that eventually cost Wells Fargo billions and made national headlines was hiding in plain sight the entire time, buried in exactly the private proceedings the bank's own contracts required. The fraud didn't surface because arbitration worked. It surfaced despite arbitration, when regulators and whistleblowers finally broke through. How many smaller schemes never surface at all? By definition, we can't count them — that's the whole point of a system built to keep them invisible.
The trick that lets a stranger use your credit card clause against you
It gets worse, and this is the part that stuns even other lawyers. Under a doctrine called equitable estoppel, a company you have no contract with can reach over and invoke the arbitration clause buried in some other agreement you signed. I have watched a debt collector — a company my client never dealt with, never signed anything with — force her claim into arbitration by pointing at the arbitration clause in her credit card agreement, arguing that its sweeping "any consumer financial dispute" language covered them too. The Supreme Court blessed the general framework for non-signatories to do this (Arthur Andersen LLP v. Carlisle (2009); GE Energy v. Outokumpu (2020)). In 2024, Disney even tried to use a family's Disney+ streaming subscription to block a wrongful-death lawsuit. We fought these motions. We often lost.
Think about what that means. The arbitration clause you never read, in the credit card you barely remember signing up for, can be turned into a weapon by a company you've never heard of, in a dispute you never imagined it would touch. That is not a justice system. It's a maze with every exit quietly welded shut.
Who this protects, and who it silences
The harm isn't abstract. Forced arbitration is how sexual-harassment claims got buried in confidential proceedings for years — until Congress finally banned it for those specific claims in 2022, proving the whole system was a policy choice all along. It's how defrauded students, stiffed workers, and overcharged customers are peeled off one by one, in the dark, on claims often too small to pursue alone and impossible to pursue together. The company isn't afraid of your individual claim. It's afraid of the pattern — and arbitration exists to make sure the pattern is never seen.
What we can do
Demand transparency where the law allows it. Even under the Supreme Court's rulings, states can require companies to report arbitration outcomes and can shine light on repeat players and conflicts. Minnesota should require disclosure of who wins, how often, and whether the "neutral" has a relationship with the company. Sunlight is the one thing this system cannot survive.
Attack the conflicts. My arbitrator worked for the other side. That should be flatly disqualifying, and a state can set conduct and disclosure standards for arbitrations seated here. A "neutral" who isn't neutral is a fraud wearing a robe.
Back the federal fix, and the sexual-harassment precedent. Congress already proved it can carve claims out of forced arbitration when it banned it for sexual assault and harassment in 2022. That's the template. Widen it.
The bank admitted the check was forged and still won, in a room no one else could see, in front of a decision-maker who worked for the other side. That is not a bug in forced arbitration. It is the product. And the only thing it truly cannot withstand is being seen.
First the facts. Then the fix.
Sources
Drawn from David J.S. Madgett's book The Rigged Court (2026), including his account of his own banking-fraud arbitration (forged check acknowledged in writing by the bank; arbitrator employed by a firm concurrently representing the opposing bank) and his consumer-practice case examples. Wells Fargo unauthorized-accounts scandal (approximately 3.5 million accounts, including ~1.5 million bank accounts and ~565,000 credit cards, 2002–2016; "Eight is Great" cross-sell culture): CFPB and OCC enforcement actions (2016) and subsequent settlements, as documented in the book. Non-signatory/equitable-estoppel doctrine: Arthur Andersen LLP v. Carlisle, 556 U.S. 624 (2009); GE Energy Power Conversion France v. Outokumpu Stainless USA, 590 U.S. 432 (2020); and the 2024 Disney+ wrongful-death arbitration attempt (widely reported; Disney later withdrew the argument). Confidentiality of arbitration and absence of public record/precedent are structural features of the process. The Ending Forced Arbitration of Sexual Assault and Sexual Harassment Act of 2021 (Pub. L. 117-90, effective March 2022; 9 U.S.C. §§ 401–402) carved those claims out of forced arbitration.
Personal-case details are as recounted in the author's own book and represent his account. Enforcement-action figures are as compiled there and in public CFPB/OCC records. This is commentary, not legal advice. Corrections: campaign@madgettformn.com.