Courts do many good things. Judges carefully consider individual claims and arguments,1 and contrast them against the law in light of evidence. Their decisions are argued for, are public, and can be contested in form and content in different hierarchical stages. Additionally, and among other things, these practices are said to contribute to the will-formation of the public sphere and improve the quality of the legislative process.2

My goal in this paper is to tell you a story, a story about race, about crime, about discretion, and about hope. I want to suggest that mass incarceration in the United States is not necessary or wise. It is the product of a criminal justice system that has ballooned beyond reason or recognition from its design.

The advent of fully autonomous vehicles (AVs) raises many questions. While some appear purely technical, others engage matters of public policy, sometimes with a prominent ethical component. Our expertise lies in law and applied ethics, and so our inquiry will focus heavily on legal or ethical issues arising from a widespread adoption of AVs and their response in emergency situations involving animals. By “animals” we do not mean all other animals than humans. We will concentrate on interest-bearing animals. These are animals who possess a welfare or wellbeing, animals whose lives can fare well or badly from their perspective.

H.L.A. Hart says that The Concept of Law is focused on municipal or domestic law because that is the “central case”1 for the usage of the word ‘law.’ At the beginning of the book he states that “at various points in this book the reader will find discussions of the borderline cases where legal theorists have felt doubts about the application of the expression ‘law’ or ‘legal system,’ but the suggested resolution of these doubts, which he will also find here, is only a secondary concern of the book.”2 Yet among those borderline cases there is one that is rather intriguing, since Hart closely discusses a particular instance of them: it is international law, to which he devotes an entire chapter—the final one—of The Concept of Law. My goal in this article is therefore to make clear why the ‘resolution’ of the borderline case of international law is not entirely ‘secondary’ to Hart’s overall project in The Concept of Law and, in so doing, to show that Chapter X is not as unhappy as many think it is.

Modern contract law accords considerable significance to the basic assumptions on which a contract is made. It thus takes to heart a failure of a belief whose truthfulness is taken for granted by both parties. Where the failure results from the parties’ mistake at the time of formation, “the contract is voidable by the adversely affected party,” if that mistake “has a material effect on the agreed exchange of performances” and unless that party “bears the risk of the mistake.”1 Where, in turn, the failure of such a basic assumption results from the parties’ erroneous beliefs about future states of the world, a party’s duty to render performance may be discharged if they are not responsible for the supervening impracticability or frustration and “unless the language or the circumstances indicate the contrary.”2

If land is divine and ought not be bought or sold,1 then bounded land, that which we term territory2 regardless of its form of being bounded, cannot be bought or sold without divine assent either. It may be defended, nurtured, utilised but not bought or sold. In defence of this is the human right to life and liberty. Were life and liberty to depend on access to land or territory then no hindrance would stand to merit. Theologically,3 the Divine created the land so the land belongs to the Divine.4 Similarly where humans labour (to work) and create (to make or build), such which is created is the property of the human, whether it is manufactured, built, sown. And from these personal properties flow the rights and privileges of personal property: alienation, transfer, purchase.5

Judicial verdicts matter. Apart from deciding the fate of litigants, common law verdicts hold precedential value. They create and alter legal cultures. Considering their importance, it is crucial to ask: what do judicial verdicts turn on? Each verdict is certainly influenced by the case facts, evidence and argumentation presented before the court. However, verdicts are also importantly shaped by how we think about language.1 Questions about language—about the relationship between words and meaning—are central to legal philosophy.

Over the last two decades, legal scholarship has been catching up with the more than century old calls by black Americans for reparations.1 Tax scholar Boris Bittker (in)famously launched the viability of black reparations into legal scholarship with his now classic monograph, The Case for Black Reparations.2 However, it would take more than twenty years for mainstream legal scholarship to take up the robust and wide-ranging set of questions raised by the possibility of reparations for American slavery.3 In the late 1990s private law scholars leapt into the debate, discussing unjust enrichment and torts-based models of black reparations.4 While these scholars made a variety of distinct arguments, collectively, their model rested on the contention that America had wrongfully expropriated the labor of generations of enslaved African Americans and the result had been systemic unjust enrichment, or a species of mass torts. Grounded in various conceptions of corrective justice, these models conceive black reparations as a set of claims that would be litigated through the courts. Over the ensuing two decades, the private law model has become somewhat of an outlier in reparations discussions, largely set aside in favor of broader, more explicitly political approaches.

The last two decades have witnessed a wide-ranging and global discussion of the theory and structure of human and constitutional rights. This debate initially focused on the principle of proportionality and subsequently on the related ideas of the ‘culture of justification’ and the ‘right to justification.’ There is now a far-reaching agreement that both proportionality and justification in human and constitutional rights law are concerned with the reasonableness, alternatively the justification in terms of public reason, of the act under consideration. Thus, reasonableness and/or public reason have assumed a, perhaps the, central place in the theory of human and constitutional rights.

Sophisticated realists, uncompromising positivists, and postmodernists created much of the law in the last century. Judges, lawyers, and philosophers now are continuing to clarify, improve, and use the law. The law is often clear. But it can be indeterminate because it is indefinite, indistinct, or vague. Two examples are provided.

In a recent article2 I examined the nature of private law offices, and here I extend that analysis to consider the trustee-beneficiary relationship where the trust is of a kind that Lionel Smith has called a “massively discretionary trust.”3 After considering some of the problematic legal features of such trusts, I shall probe the morally problematic features that these trusts present.

Developments in artificial intelligence and robotics promise increased interaction between humans and autonomous machines, presenting novel risks of accidental harm to individuals and property.1 This essay situates the problem of autonomous-machine-caused harm within the doctrinal and theoretical framework of tort law, conceived of as a practice of corrective justice. The possibility of autonomous-machine-caused harm generates fresh doctrinal and theoretical issues for assigning tort liability. Due to machine-learning capabilities, harmful effects of autonomous machines may be untraceable to tortious actions of designers, manufacturers or users.2 As a result, traditional tort doctrine—framed by conditions of foreseeability and proximate causation—would not ground liability.3 Without recourse to compensation, faultless victims bear the accident costs of autonomous machines. This doctrinal outcome reflects possible incompatibility between tort’s theoretical structure of corrective justice and accidents involving autonomous machines. As a practice of corrective justice, tort liability draws a normative link between particular defendants and plaintiffs, as doers and sufferers of the same tortious harm, grounding defendants’ agent-specific obligations to repair the harm. Where accidents are caused by autonomous machines, the argument goes, the essential link between defendants and plaintiffs is severed; since resulting harm is not legally attributable to the human agency of designers, manufacturers or users, victims have no remedy in tort.

According to a widely-shared view, human rights encompass a very limited range of ethical concerns: not all human interests, only urgent interests;1 not our preferences, only our needs;2 not all wrongs, only severe injustices;3 not a good life in the fullest sense, but only a minimally decent or autonomous life.4 In short, human rights are not about realizing the best, they are about shielding us from the worst. I will call this general theoretical stance Minimalism.

The law uses ‘discrimination’ to denote practices of exclusion and distinction that are wrongful from a legal point of view. Anti-discrimination doctrines around the world use the concept of ‘wrongful distinctions’ to enumerate the ways in which irrelevant distinctions between individuals or groups are made and to explain their illegality. But how should the term ‘irrelevant’ be understood in this context? Most legal systems around the world use the term ‘irrelevant’ only in denunciation of distinctions based on ‘common,’ ‘classic,’ or ‘suspicious’ grounds, such as race-based or sex-based distinctions.

A century ago the pragmatists called for reconstruction in philosophy. Philosophy at the time was occupied with conceptual analysis, abstractions, a priori analysis, and the pursuit of necessary, universal truths. Pragmatists argued that philosophy instead should center on the pressing problems of the day, which requires theorists to pay attention to social complexity, variation, change, power, consequences, and other concrete aspects of social life. The parallels between philosophy then and jurisprudence today are striking, as I show, calling for a pragmatism-informed theory of law within contemporary jurisprudence. In the wake of H.L.A. Hart’s mid-century turn to conceptual analysis, “during the course of the twentieth century, the boundaries of jurisprudential inquiry were progressively narrowed.”1 Jurisprudence today is dominated by legal philosophers engaged in conceptual analysis built on intuitions, seeking to identify essential features and timeless truths about law. In the pursuit of these objectives, they detach law from its social and historical moorings, they ignore variation and change, they drastically reduce law to a singular phenomenon—like a coercive planning system for difficult moral problems2—and they deny that coercive force is a universal feature of law, among other ways in which they depart from the reality of law; a few prominent jurisprudents even proffer arguments that invoke aliens or societies of angels.

According to the Supreme Court of Canada, Aboriginal title is a property right, albeit of a distinctive kind. Most significantly, the right is subject to an inherent limit: title lands cannot be used in a way that deprives present and future generations of the right to use the land. Aboriginal title is also encumbered by a restraint on alienation, and has its source in Aboriginal legal systems that predate and survive the assertion of Crown sovereignty. In this paper, we argue that these features of Aboriginal title are not burdensome judicial innovations on a property right, but are instead the essential contours of a sovereign right. That is, the Court’s own description of Aboriginal title does not comport with sound theoretical understandings of a property right. Aboriginal title is much more akin to a right of sovereignty—the right to make laws about the use of a territory. Aboriginal title is the right of law-making jurisdiction over the title lands. The existing literature, while edging towards the view that Aboriginal title is a sovereign right, has lacked the unifying theoretical basis needed to decisively dispatch the Court’s property paradigm. In particular, all extant accounts find the inherent limit inexplicable. The account in this article theorizes and explains the inherent limit, as well as all of the sui generis elements of Aboriginal title, and shows their interconnectedness. Our view additionally answers a number of questions that the Court’s property paradigm does not, including: (1) what laws primarily govern title lands; (2) who has standing to question whether any particular use of title land violates the inherent limit; (3) what is the status of private land interests that overlap with Aboriginal title lands; and (4) how should the doctrine of Aboriginal title be updated in light of jurisprudential developments emphasizing that Indigenous peoples never ceded their sovereignty?

According to German legal philosopher Gustav Radbruch, laws that are substantively unjust to an intolerable degree should not be regarded as legally valid, even if they were promulgated according to stipulated procedure. Radbruch’s Formula (as his position has been termed) contradicts the central tenet of legal positivism, according to which the existence of laws does not necessarily depend on their merit.1 While some legal positivists suppose that legal invalidity based on the content of particular laws is a central tenet of natural law theory,2 natural law theorists such as John Finnis opine that the lex injusta non est lex3 maxim has been no more than a subordinate theorem of classical natural law theory.4 In Finnis’s view, unjust laws give rise to legal obligation “in a legal sense.”5

Inquiring into the fundamental nature of law has been traditionally formulated as an attempt to answer the question, “What is Law?” Such an inquiry typically proceeds by identifying the necessary features of law. Joseph Raz, for example, writes: