It has long been known that undergraduate research can also be beneficial in legal studies, not least for underrepresented students (cf. Hathaway et al., 2002). However, legal education has a special and – in contrast to most other disciplines – a country-specific relationship to research-based learning at undergraduate as well as at postgraduate level. The modalities and space for designing research-based learning courses depend largely on the respective subjects and methods of research. In jurisprudence, however, these vary considerably depending on the characteristics of the respective jurisdiction and its legal system.

Law schools flourished in the Byzantine Empire at the beginning of the Middle Ages, notably in Constantinople and Beirut. They taught, in Latin, the law of the Roman Empire, which also regulated the affairs of the Church (see Chapter 9). The reign of Justinian (527–65) brought the new compilations of law later known collectively as the Corpus iuris civilis (see Chapter 13) and soon also a shift of the language of instruction to Greek. Legal education, including teaching of eastern canon law, continued practically as long as the Empire survived, and beyond, producing notable scholars of canon law, such as John Zonaras (fl. early twelfth century) and Theodore Balsamon (d. after 1195) (see Chapter 9).

By 2020 law firms will be faced with a “tipping point” for a new talent strategy. Now is the time for all law firms to commit to becoming AI-ready by embracing a growth mindset, set aside the fear of failure and begin to develop internal AI practices.1

This chapter challenges the representations of international law that dominate the turn to history. The vision of international law as metaphysically grounded and of lawyers as scholastics or moralising judges is resonant because it shores up a familiar fantasy. Yet that vision bears little relation to the ways in which contemporary international lawyers use the past in the practice of making legal arguments. This chapter explores the indeterminacy and capaciousness of the past materials out of which international legal arguments are assembled and the varied roles lawyers are trained to adopt in making such arguments. It shows that international lawyers are already immersed in a centuries-long debate over the grounds of law’s authority, into which historicising techniques and anti-metaphysical approaches have long been incorporated. Many influential forms of international legal thought, including legal realism, positivism, critical legal studies, and game theory, have been informed by an anti-metaphysical orientation. Far from being a revolutionary insight, the claim that historicising a text can settle its meaning is just one of many claims that are already part of the broader argumentative world of international lawyers, and no more likely than any other to resolve interpretative controversies or offer the truth of legal history.

We begin our data analysis in Chapter 5, which empirically links our broad predictive theory of the judicial tug of war to the nation’s courts. This chapter examines the federal courts, the most politically important courts in the entire American judiciary. As we show in this chapter, fights over federal courts appointments illustrate the tense tug of war between the national bar and politicians. Given that federal courts appointments operate with the advice and consent of the US Senate, an elected body whose political leanings do not dovetail with the bar’s, we expect to see (and we document using empirical data) an ideological divergence. In the last decade, this divergence manifests itself in a federal judiciary that is substantially more conservative than is the national bar. As we show, this also creates supply-side incentives among legal elites. Specifically, conservative graduates of elite law programs have a much higher probability of becoming a judge (of any kind); their relative scarcity in law schools and in the academy, furthermore, has increased the importance of conservative-leaning legal associations, such as the Federalist Society.

The opening chapter introduces the main thesis that the book expounds: Holmes articulated in “The Path of the Law” his theory of legal education. His approach to legal education reflected his ideas worked out in scholarship and in practice, on the nature of law and the best ways to advance legal knowledge. The chapter further explains the structure of the book, both as a work of intellectual history and legal theory.

This Chapter questions whether there is a “doctrine” of proportionality. By “doctrine,” a way of dealing with problems across a range of problems. Using the country studies presented in this book, the chapter identifies a number of reasons for thinking that there is – and perhaps cannot be – such a doctrine. First, the components of proportionality are elements in any reasoned explanation for an outcome in a constitutional case; as a result, “hints” of proportionality analysis in cases not using its structured version may not in fact illustrate proportionality analysis at all. Second, courts allocate different analytic methods to different domains; as a result, proportionality analysis and categorical analysis co-exist in the system as a whole. Third, something like a categorical analysis is likely to appear at the “less restrictive alternatives” stage of proportionality analysis. Finally, even systems committed to proportionality analysis might find themselves eventually adopting some categorical rules as a means of achieving better results overall than proportionality would produce directly. The Chapter concludes with some observations about the role that structural, educational, and political contexts play in the choice between categorical and proportionality analysis.

Most agree that lawyers of the future will need a greater understanding of how technology can be used to design and deliver legal services. The issue for those involved in setting content for any route to qualification is defining the extent to which this must be regulated, as much as identifying the right level of technological capability. The issue is not merely one of content, but the acquisition of competences. Any accreditation must look beyond simply ensuring capability in relation to discrete tools, looking instead to ensure that future solicitors have the ability to adapt to new technologies. Separately, consideration has to be given to the emerging profession of legal technologists. Whilst some technologists may be legally qualified, those that are not must understand the ethical boundaries and regulatory requirements that lawyers work within. The organisation of the legal profession and the regulatory boundaries shared between various stakeholders require us to consider whether accreditation is the right way forward, where responsibility for accreditation should lie and who should take initiative in this space. This chapter explores these issues by contrasting the approach adopted by the Solicitors Regulation Authority in England and Wales with that of the Law Society of Scotland.

Today, technology is driving disruptive change in the legal profession and the public is demanding lawyers offer more value and choice in how legal services are delivered. Given these pressures, tomorrow’s legal profession will be fundamentally different from the profession we know today. Against this backdrop, this chapter argues the next generation of lawyers need at least five categories of multidimensional knowledge and skills: collaboration; design; project management; problem-solving; and lifelong learning. The prevailing, traditional legal education model was not designed to teach these multidimensional skills. This chapter describes some of traditional legal education’s deficiencies, introduces the pedagogy of problem-based learning, and advocates a particular form of this pedagogy: project-based learning that involves real clients or community partners. Through project-based learning – a student-centred, active, and experiential learning model – students learn the fundamentals of law and legal practice while gaining the multidimensional knowledge and skills needed to navigate disruptive change. Project-based learning can prepare law students to actively shape the future of the profession – as opposed to merely reacting to change – by harnessing technology and interdisciplinary insights to improve legal systems and create better legal service models for the public.

The field of dispute resolution has long been at the forefront of modernising legal education. Continuing this tradition, this chapter presents findings from an evaluation of an exercise introduced into the core law school curriculum at Monash University in Australia. In our compulsory litigation and dispute resolution units, we built an experiential exercise in which students resolved a dispute using both an online dispute resolution (ODR) platform and more traditional face-to-face mediation role-play. Students completed a short survey about their experience of the portal (n=64, response rate 30 per cent) and provided their reflective journals about the exercise for analysis (n=55). Drawing on the findings, we consider the benefits and limitations of this approach for facilitating students’ exposure to ODR. We explore themes including student understanding of ODR’s impacts on dispute processes and outcomes; appropriate conduct in dispute resolution settings; and the challenges of computer-mediated communication. We also identify means by which experiential activities can draw students’ attention to power disparities and access to justice challenges in ODR to develop their critical thinking about the rapid developments in this field.