Conservative activists and politicians have condemned critical race theory and have supported measures to prohibit teaching the subject in public schools. The anti-critical race theory movement is part of broader social movement activity inspired by the 2020 presidential election. Many conservatives view Donald Trump's defeat as a victory for antiracism. In response, they have portrayed the election as a product of fraud, enacted laws that will make it more difficult for people of color to vote, endorsed measures that would chill antiracist political activism, and banned instruction related to contemporary antiracist theory. These practices have been employed historically in response to antiracism. This history should guide social justice advocates as they analyze the meaning of countermovement activity and build strategies of resistance.

ʿAbd al-Razzāq al-Sanhūrī (d. 1971), the father of the Egyptian legal code, theorized a relationship between dīn (religion) and dawla (state) that was key to his project. In this relationship, al-Sanhūrī posited a delineation between the spheres of dīn and dawla that allowed him to map these categories onto the existing distinction between matters of ʿibādāt (acts of worship) and muʾāmalāt (transactions) in Islamic law (fiqh). I propose that Islamic jurisprudential distinctions between ʿibādāt and muʿāmalāt—for al-Sanhūrī—was the ideal medium to maintain and police the borderlines between religion and state in the postcolonial Egyptian state. Al-Sanhūrī's objective was to keep the domain of dīn outside of state sanction and to facilitate a transition whereby the state's legal institutions assumed exclusive lawmaking powers based on its own independent legal reasoning in Islamic law (ijtihād). I argue that al-Sanhūrī was a committed comparatist, not a reformer of Islamic law. Al-Sanhūrī's legal project should be viewed as a faithful commitment to French comparative law as a method of legal inquiry and a reflection of his nationalist agenda of creating a unified legal order that cannot exist without relying upon indigenous forms of law and culture. Al-Sanhūrī saw Khedival legal pluralism as an obstacle for national sovereignty. As a result of the institutional and legal readjustments from the 1920s through 1950s in Egypt, al-Sanhūrī did not see a future for Islamic law in the emerging legal state apparatus outside of civil law strictures and insisted that Islamic courts and religious tribunals for Jews and Christians must be subsumed under nationalized secular state courts.

This article makes the counterintuitive argument that the millennia-old approach of Jewish law to regulating surveillance, protecting communications, and governing collection and use of information offers important frameworks for protecting privacy in an age of big data and pervasive surveillance. The modern approach to privacy has not succeeded. Notions of individual “rights to be let alone” and “informational self-determination” offer little defense against rampant data collection and aggregation. The substantive promise of a “fundamental human right” of privacy has largely been reduced to illusory procedural safeguards of “notice” and “consent”—manipulable protections by which individuals “agree” to privacy terms with little understanding of the bargain and little power to opt out. Judaism, on the other hand, views privacy as a societal obligation and employs categorical behavioral and architectural mandates that bind all of society's members. It limits waiver of these rules and rejects both technological capacity and the related notion of “expectations” as determinants of privacy's content. It assumes the absence of anonymity and does not depend on the confidentiality of information or behavior, whether knowledge is later used or shared, or whether the privacy subject can show concrete personal harm. When certain types of sensitive information are publicly known or cannot help but be visible, Jewish law still provides rules against their use. Jewish law offers a language that can guide policy debates. It suggests a move from individual control over information as the mechanism for shaping privacy's meaning and enforcement, to a regime of substantive obligations—personal and organizational—to protect privacy. It recognizes the interconnected nature of human interests and comprehends the totality of the harm that pervasive surveillance wreaks on individuals and social relations. It offers a conceptual basis for extending traditional privacy protections to online spaces and new data uses. And it provides a language of dignity that recognizes unequal bargaining power, rejects the aggregation and use of information to create confining personal narratives and judgments, and demands equal protection for all humans.

This article addresses the Jewish ethical approach to refugees. According to Jewish ethics, help must be offered to refugees of a foreign people, and sometimes, for the sake of peace, even to those of an enemy state. Reviewing the Jewish sources, I conclude that from an ethical point of view, preference should be given to refugees who are near the border over those from farther away. Priority must be given to those in acute distress who lack the basic items of sustenance. Sometimes there is a special value in finding a way to assist even one's enemies in the hope that such help will break down the barriers of hatred. Similarly, it is ethically preferable to offer help to blameless children over adults, whose intentions might be suspect.

The Middle Ages are not usually considered an era when the law was friendly to laborers. Numerous regulations in medieval England were very unfriendly to them. However, religious laws—that is, canon law—did act to protect laborers when it came to working on holy days. Examining cases in the ecclesiastical courts, this article traces discussions concerning who was to blame, from theory into practice, when masters compelled their subordinates to work on holy days. Differing ideas on how to assign blame were ultimately reflected in the ecclesiastical courts. Some courts prosecuted only masters, while others prosecuted both masters and subordinates.

Article 534 of the Lebanese Penal Code, effectively, criminalizes homosexual practices. Most commentators have claimed that its existence in modern Lebanon is a “colonial relic,” specifically of the French Mandate, 1920–1946. But since 1791, French penal codes have not criminalized same-sex relations. I argue, instead, that Article 534 was the product of native religious, legal, and moral thinking among the Maronites, reinforced by the Thomistic and post-Tridentine moral theology taught in Lebanon by the Jesuit missions. Thomistic and post-Tridentine moral theology classified same-sex relations as worthy of condemnation as “unnatural acts”—the same language used in Article 534. Therefore, as a product of Lebanese political and religious sectarianism, Article 534 is a specific case of a congenial collaboration of Jesuit moral theology and a conservative Maronite ethical and legal koine.

Lithuania formally distinguishes between what it terms “traditional,” “state-recognized,” “registered,” and “unregistered” religions. Though constitutionally Lithuania is a secular state and all religions are declared equal vis-à-vis the state, religious communities recognized as “traditional” have, nonetheless, been favored by the state. They have been granted preferential treatment both in the legislation and extralegal handling by various state actors and institutions. At the same time, traditional religious communities are formally equal among themselves and vis-à-vis the state. However, the size of their membership puts them into two distinct camps. While the Catholic community constitutes 77 percent of the country's population, the remaining eight traditional religious communities together hardly make up 6 percent, of which 4 percent are Orthodox, with Lutherans, Calvinists, Greek Catholics, Old Believers, Judaists, Karaites, and Sunni Muslims making up the remaining numbers. This article focuses on one of the smaller traditional religious communities, Sunni Muslims, and through this example seeks to show looming complications arising from the current legal system for the governance of religion in Lithuania, which, as a country, starts inter alia being affected by the appearance of revivalist and other “nontraditional” forms of Islam on its territory. The article argues that with the changing makeup of the Lithuanian religious landscape—not related only to Islam—the current system of the governance of religion is not only outdated but also unsustainable and needs to be thoroughly overhauled to come more in line with the developing social reality.

The article comparatively maps state involvement in the establishment of filiation and the placement of destitute children into new families. It first reports findings from an expert survey that investigates four key areas of state involvement—the legal framework, the role of courts and ministries, guardianship regulations, and financial support and services for destitute children—across fourteen jurisdictions, twelve Muslim-majority countries, and two Muslim-minority countries. Overall, the placement of children into new families remains a sensitive issue because it is linked to different communities “claiming” the child. In principle, the states surveyed do not allow the creation of new families across religious lines. Using Jordan as a case study, the article then focuses on the implications of one particular survey finding: non-Muslims in Muslim-majority countries sometimes cannot have children placed into their homes. This finding is based on qualitative data collected in Jordan on adoption (tabannī) in the Greek Catholic community. The article argues that in settings of legal pluralism, state involvement affects different religious communities in different ways. In Jordan, due to structural factors, the state shapes Islamic family law differently than the family laws applied by Christian communities. This leads to the unequal development of different bodies of religious law and thereby to the unequal treatment of Muslim and Christian citizens.

What happened to biblical law when transferred into late antique Christianity? How can answering this question provide a paradigm that helps us understand the rise and development of late antique Christian legal traditions? In the first centuries of the Common Era, the Christian legal tradition began to evolve in Roman, Greek, rabbinic, and biblical contexts. Focusing on the biblical institution of levirate marriage, this article offers a paradigm that elucidates how Christians might have adopted, adapted, and sometimes rejected their legal heritage; it may illuminate the overall development of Christian legal discourse. Following a short survey of the rabbinic adaptation of biblical levirate marriage and the Roman and Christian rulings regarding this practice, I analyze the Christian exegetical and theological discourse on levirate marriage, focusing on the acceptance or rejection of levirate marriage as a whole and adaptations to the biblical institution. This analysis demonstrates the disparity between the rabbinic discourse, the Christian and Roman rulings, and the theological and exegetical discourse. It shows how Christians remodeled their biblical heritage according to Greek and Roman legal concepts, namely the Roman adoption and the Greek epiklerate, and treated it as part of inheritance law and child-parent relationships, whereas the rabbis used different adaptations and treated it as part of matrimonial law and sexual relationships. This discussion therefore recontextualizes the legal discourse, positioning the Christian approach to levirate marriage as a complex case of legal transplant and adaptation of a legal heritage.

Reproductive politics is the locus classicus for studying the entanglement of religion with politics and lawmaking processes in the Philippines. Although 25 percent of the total population participates in the Pentecostal movement, there is virtually no comprehensive work that studies this movement's attitudes about reproductive health. In this article I analyze Pentecostals’ attitude on reproductive health vis-à-vis recent studies that depict the movement as religious populism. I investigate the interests and exclusions that Pentecostals’ keywords and narratives, as well as recent scholarship on Pentecostalism, conceal. I first provide a genealogical reconstruction of the debate on reproductive health in the Philippines. Second, I provide an overview of the religious landscape and discuss Pentecostal's attitudes toward reproductive health while demonstrating that their rhetorical positions cannot be understood apart from hegemonic struggles and their entanglement with local and global discourse. Third, I draw theoretical and methodological implications for the study of Pentecostalism, politics, and lawmaking processes in the Philippines. Finally, I conclude by showing the relationship between Pentecostalism in the Philippines and the broader study of religion and politics, including making and implementing law.