‘Law’ and ‘constitution’, like other concepts we use to make sense of the world, have a history.1 In the case of law, part of that history is the ongoing interplay between two different ideas. One is that law concerns what people should, should not and may do. In other words, law is ‘normative’. Another is that law is a product of human activity. Human beings and institutions can and do make and enforce legal norms.

It is time to put God back into readings of the British constitution. Writings about that constitution since 1945 have often focused on technicalities and processes of the constitutional order – whether the law, Parliament, or territorial politics – rather than the constitution as a lived idea. Yet states, beneath the daily reality of their role as legal entities claiming monopolies of violence over the territories they purportedly control, are fundamentally ideas.

Chapter 2 examines a constitution written for the princely state of Mysore in 1923. It interprets the constitution as an early expression of anti-parliamentary model of popular government.

Chapter 5 looks closely into the notion of law of the Union established by the EAEU Treaty. It analyses the sources of law of the Union and proceeds with clarifying their hierarchy and legal force. It also analyses the place of direct applicability, direct effect and primacy in the EAEU pertaining to legal order autonomy. Eventually it turns to the provisions of Member States’ national legislation vis-à-vis EAEU law. The three founding Member States have been deeply involved in Eurasian integration. The process of drafting the EAEU Treaty required alignment with the generally recognised principles of international law, national legislation of Member States, taking into account international experience, but not the least with national constitutions. Therefore, in principle, tensions between the legal orders of the EAEU and its Member States should have been minimized from the outset. This chapter shows that it is not necessarily so in two case studies: Russia and Belarus. The former has had the most controversial encounters with external legal orders, including that of the EAEU, which was eventually ossified in the ensuing constitutional amendments in this regard. The latter has the strictest constitutional limitations, which have direct bearing on the EAEU legal order.

This chapter provides an introduction to the evolution of IOM’s mandate and obligations from its founding in 1951 to 2022. In contrast to the tendency in some scholarly literature to portray IOM as a static actor devoid of normative obligations and available to unquestioningly advance state interests, however nefarious, this chapter paints a more complex picture. Focusing in particular on IOM as a “multi-mandated” organization, the chapter charts how IOM’s mandate and conceptions of its obligations have shifted over time, including in light of the development over the past two decades of a significant set of internal policies, frameworks and guidelines. Without minimizing the significant gaps and opacity that remain, the chapter explores changes in the organization’s perceived purpose and obligations, and explanations for these shifts, drawing on insights from international relations scholarship on international organizations’ legitimation efforts. Gradually, IOM has transformed from a logistics agency strapped to the interests of the United States, to a global organization with a still nascent but growing sense of its obligations not only to states but also to people on the move—changes that have ultimately advanced IOM’s efforts to secure its own position and power in the international system.

Chapter 5 traces the rise of arguments for ‘modernising the constitution’. While the 1970s left repeatedly engaged in British constitutional debates, their arguments were rarely conceived in terms of modernisation. However, the challenge of Thatcher’s rule, along Scottish nationalism, perceptions of sociological change, European integration, and geopolitical developments led to the ascendancy of new constitutional reforms (such as a bill of rights and devolution) in agendas for ‘modern socialism’. A pivotal development was the creation of the campaign group Charter 88; also important was the spreading New Left argument that European continental structures were more ‘modern’ than the ‘Westminster Model’. The political strength of constitutional modernisation arguments peaked in the early 1990s, under the leadership of John Smith and with public support from rising stars Blair and Brown. Momentum for reform later stalled under Blair. Nevertheless, Scottish and Welsh devolution and a Human Rights Act were locked into Labour’s platform by 1997, facilitating one of the most disruptive periods of British constitutional change in the contemporary era.

Data-related technology advancements have brought about a paradigm shift and have created a data-driven economy that requires a legal framework to regulate the economic behavior of its participants – both companies and consumers. However, legislators’ hands-off attitude, intended to promote a ‘free’ and unregulated Internet, has not realized the original internet dream of a borderless and radically democratic space. Some observers have even suggested that the Internet is beyond the sovereignty of governments, or even a fifth dimension, not subject to the same regulation as other domains of human activities.1 This laissez-faire approach to the digital economy has created a lawless arena where the strong prevail. These powerful participants also dominate in terms of data – the Internet’s most valuable asset – and through their actions, system leaders and silo providers are in fact hindering the free flow of information by ‘hoarding’ data (or, as the Commission formulated it, ‘data lock-in’).2 These barriers seem destined to increase in the future.

The question of what kind of recognition populism supplies to the people connects to the question of how populists understand and practice “democracy.” This chapter disputes the widespread assumption that populism is committed to a procedural conception of democracy, which rejects all substantive standards and constraints on popular decision-making. It argues that populism cannot be regarded as essentially democratic, while it is only against liberal constitutionalism. Indeed, from the perspective of democratic respect, the fault with populism is not that its understanding of democracy lacks substantive constraints on popular decision-making, but that it fails to appreciate the procedural value of democracy. The populist understanding of democracy fails to appreciate the importance of “procedural respect,” while it promotes “outcome respect” and “identification recognition.” However, outcome respect as a form of correspondence between public policy and people’s opinions is incompatible with the circumstance of disagreement, and populist leader-people identification has equally anti-pluralist implications. Finally, populism has a very limited understanding of democratic procedures, focusing on aggregative mechanisms such as referendums and elections, while it excludes a more expansive understanding of democracy, which includes free opinion-formation, activism, and deliberation in civil and political society.

Zimbabwe’s 1995 general election was conducted in the context of a ferocious debate on the country’s controversial constitution and a disastrous economic structural adjustment programme (ESAP). Zanu PF had already won a parliamentary majority well before votes were cast. It had the advantage of having thirty presidentially appointed MPs and fifty-five of its sitting MPs stood unopposed. The national voters’ register remained in a complete shambles. A weak and divided political opposition seemed to be a permanent feature in the country. Zanu PF neither accepted nor tolerated political opponents, believing it had entitlement to be in power forever. Zanu PF participation in the anti-colonial liberation war was a major justification for supressing political opposition parties. Zanu PF’s mindset was, by hook or crook, de jure or de facto bent on achieving a one-party state. The hallmarks of the 1995 elections were the controversial constitution, weak opposition, Zanu PF’s manipulation, and bending and breaking of election rules, including its lack of political will to develop a viable voters’ roll. The economic structural adjustment programme had already ruined peoples’ livelihoods by the mid-1990s. The source of violence emanated from Zanu PF’s non-acceptance and intolerance of competitive election contests, including within its own leadership selection processes.

The selection of the arbitral tribunal is likely the most critical step in the arbitral process. Arbitrators adjudicate substantive and procedural issues, and the quality of the arbitrators will be outcome determinative of the parties’ dispute and, ultimately, the enforceability of the arbitral award. This chapter provides guidance on best practices regarding the appointment of arbitrators in international commercial and investor-State arbitration. It discusses the parameters of the parties’ flexibility and autonomy in choosing the configuration of their tribunal and the identity of their arbitrators, as well as the various factors that parties should consider in vetting potential arbitrator candidates. This chapter also addresses strategic considerations, procedures, and practical concerns of arbitrator challenges, including the potential implications of successful challenges.

Beginning with a look at the January 6 riots at the US Capitol, and concluding with neo-Nazi rallies in support of "white free speech" in Charlottesville, VA, and earlier in Skokie, IL, we discusses how groups are weaponizing free speech to suppress the speech of others.

The Civil War in the lower Mississippi valley demonstrates the complexities of abolishing slavery. Focusing mostly on the Emancipation Proclamation, historians fail to explain how military emancipation was translated into abolition, viewing the Thirteenth Amendment as a stand-alone measure that gave constitutional sanction to the proclamation and that followed inevitably from it. However, abolition must be understood in conjunction with restoring the seceded states to the Union, since Americans generally believed that only states could abolish slavery. After the proclamation, Unionists in Louisiana and Tennessee split into free-state and proslavery – or “conservative” – factions, with both attempting to organize loyal governments. Taking proslavery Unionism seriously, Republicans insisted that the rebellious states abolish slavery in their state constitutions as a condition for readmission. The Thirteenth Amendment was thus originally envisioned to complement state action. Federal military success in the lower Mississippi valley first elucidated the problem of conjoining abolition and state restoration, and the region served as the crucible for transforming military emancipation into constitutional abolition.

The Union capture of Atlanta in early September 1864 reframes the presidential election and the war. Louisiana’s free-state constitution wins voter approval and becomes operative, formally abolishing slavery in Louisiana, although military–civilian conflict continues to hamper the Unionist government. Free-state radicals and black leaders call for political and legal equality, but the Louisiana government takes no action in defining black freedom. The Arkansas Unionist government faces difficulties in asserting its authority, and it receives limited assistance from Federal military officials. In Tennessee, free-state and conservative Unionists offer competing plans for the state to conduct a presidential election, and black Tennesseans in Nashville hold their own election, but Tennessee’s electoral votes ultimately not counted. Andrew Johnson delivers “Moses of the Colored Man” speech during the campaign, affirming commitment to abolition. Republican support for the Thirteenth Amendment muted during the campaign, but Lincoln wins reelection.