This paper offers a definition of legal fictions and an evaluation of the role of legal fictions in legal practice, especially insofar as they enable legal change. The first part of the paper defines legal fictions as any suspension of one or more of the required operative facts leading to the imposition of an associated normative consequence, whether this suspension is introduced because of (1) the absence of proof of some previously required fact; or (2) the presence of proof to the contrary. The second part argues that legal fictions have an unjustifiably bad reputation as enablers of legal change. This paper makes a plea for seeing legal fictions as forms of tentative cognition that enable courts to communicate with each other, exploring whether a certain change in the law (i.e. precisely a suspension of a required operative fact in the imposition of a certain normative consequence) ought to be introduced at a more explicit level. Under the guise of this relational reading of legal reasoning, legal fictions become an instrument of careful experimentation – a way of testing the extent to which the potential introduction of a rule will be beneficial. Seen in this light, legal fictions are by no means signs of the immaturity of the system; they are, instead, dynamic resources that allow courts, over time, to balance flexibility and responsiveness with stability and predictability.

This paper attempts first to explain Bentham's distinction between a fiction and the name of a fictitious entity, and to relate that distinction to his rationale for the critique of legal fictions. A second goal of the paper is to investigate the tensions involved in Bentham's ontology and epistemology, and more specifically the tension between the objectivist and subjectivist Bentham. It is argued that Bentham's objections to legal fictions were traceable to their use in deceptive or fallacious argument, whilst his logic provided a means of rehabilitating the use of the names of those fictitious entities which could be explicated through his technique of paraphrasis (that is, explained in terms of real entities), in relation to which both meaning and truth might be exchanged. This realist perspective differs markedly from that of Fuller, who, following Vaihinger, rejects the attempt to replace fiction with truth. There are significant areas of agreement between Bentham and Fuller, on the figurative nature of much language, and even, in certain contexts, on the utility of the self-conscious deployment of fictions. However, in the context of law and morality, it appears that his development of a route to truth through paraphrasis makes Bentham the enemy of fictions, since, in this field at least, truth and utility stand or fall together.

Since Lon Fuller published his 1930 trilogy of essays on the topic, students of the legal fiction have focused on identifying additional examples of fictions or challenging Fuller's classic taxonomy. But Fuller did more in these essays than propose a definition and a classification system; he also argued that legal fictions are examples of a more general phenomenon found in many systems of specialised language usage. Drawing on work done in the intervening decades on related issues outside the law, this paper develops this insight in new directions, seeking to understand in more detail one of Fuller's principal concerns: the points at which legal language stops communicating, points that may shift over time but will never completely disappear. The analysis indicates that the currently prevailing understanding of legal fictions as, in essence, consciously counterfactual propositions is historically contingent and incomplete; that legal writers have generally used the ‘legal fiction’ label to signal those writers' sense of the futility of further justification to a non-legal audience (even when they are using the term in a justification likely to be read only by a legal audience); and, contrary to the assumptions of many post-Fuller theorists, that the boundaries of the legal vocabularies recognised as self-justifying may have become less distinct over the past century.

In the popular imagination, legal proceedings and their rules of law are thought of as paths to unalloyed truth. Both practitioners and scholars know this is often not the case because the law is, as are other domains, riddled with fictions. Indeed, the law sometimes borrows fictions from other domains to help it achieve results that would otherwise be unobtainable. One such place is securities law, in which courts in the United States have borrowed the concept of the ‘efficient market’ from economics to make fraud class actions possible. But that concept is – if not wholly – at least in good measure fictional.

HIV prevention and treatment are undergoing impressive technological and practice changes. In-home rapid testing, prophylaxis before risky sex, and treatment as prevention give cause for remarkable optimism and suggest the possibility of an AIDS-free generation. These changes in HIV prevention and treatment might affect HIV policy in several different directions. One direction would be further entrenchment of the currently prevailing punitive approach. A different direction would be a shift away from use of the criminal law as a method for discouraging risky behaviour and towards a strategy aimed to encourage the use of the new treatment and prevention possibilities. When such abrupt technological changes are accompanied by sharp changes in regulatory regimes, they are identified in the public policy literature as a ‘punctuated equilibrium’. A shift away from criminalisation in HIV policy, if sufficiently widespread and transformative, could reach the level of a punctuated equilibrium. This paper presents a critical assessment of the implications of the changes in available forms of treatment and prevention for the continued appeal of criminalisation as an approach to HIV policy. We conclude that criminalisation is less justifiable in the light of what might be circumstances ripe for a punctuated equilibrium.

This paper describes the ways in which, over the past three decades, law has come to serve as an obstacle in the fight against HIV, and how it contributes to the stigmatisation of, and discrimination against, people living with the virus. It argues that in order to make unsafe law safer, policy-makers, legislators and those responsible for the interpretation and enforcement of law must base their HIV response not on populist morality but on the strong evidence base provided by three decades of clinical, scientific and social research. Drawing on that research and the author's own involvement in policy development in this area, it suggests that rights-based arguments are, while important, insufficient as the basis for delivering the changes that are necessary, discusses the difficulties involved in achieving those changes, and argues that legal scholarship and research has an important role to play in HIV activism and combating the global epidemic.

Kawashima's well-known arguments on Japanese legal consciousness represent characteristic concerns of Japanese socio-legal scholarship: comparison between Japan and the West on the one hand, and law and practice on the other. Such concerns originated much earlier, before World War II. Suehiro, the early founder, relied on Ehrlich's idea of living law to make law fit social reality. In contrast, Kawashima urged Japanese people to make modern law ‘our living law’. He also argued that Japanese consciousness was the main cause of the small volume of litigation. This thesis became a focus of empirical research by Japanese and foreign scholars. Kawashima played a significant role in establishing the sociology of law as a subject in law. In subsequent empirical studies, Kawashima's thesis has been critically assessed. Yet the sociology of law as an empirical science and the characteristic concerns his work represents are distinctive features of the sociology of law in Japan.

Racist incidents on American university campuses in the 1980s triggered a storm of publications by scholars who coined the phrase ‘hate speech’ for the legal lexicon. Some of the offences had already been subject to legal or institutional penalties for harassment or vandalism. Several universities nevertheless adopted broad codes of conduct to penalise hateful expression. For two decades, however, the US Supreme Court had been marching in the opposite direction. It was interpreting the Constitution's First Amendment to prevent federal or state government from punishing speakers solely on grounds of the viewpoints they express.