This chapter considers how the structure and processes of the regulatory systems that govern the legal profession are relevant to lawyers’ ethics and behaviour – that is, the significance of institutions for lawyers’ ethics. In this chapter we consider ways in which the ethics demonstrated by the legal profession as a whole are likely to affect lawyers’ individual and personal ethics. We begin by discussing how our current approaches to regulating the legal profession might, or might not, embody and engender the values that should characterise legal practice. We then focus on the ‘law of lawyering’ – rules and regulatory regimes that have been created to apply specifically to lawyers under the legislation and case law governing the legal professions of each of the States and Territories. The next section provides a brief history of the development of Australian legal professional regulation, before contrasting this with a different regulatory approach that sees market competition as the fairest and most efficient form of professional regulation.

In acknowledging that ethics should be regarded as the cornerstone of healthcare practice and the significance of professional regulation for healthcare practitioners providing patient care, it is vital to develop an understanding of how and why this is the case. This chapter has been written to support all perioperative practitioners in developing this knowledge in the context of the operating theatre. The chapter includes discussion of some of the key moral theories and frameworks that may be used to guide reflective, ethical decision making before moving on to consider the role of professional codes and regulation in prescribing and enforcing standards of professional conduct and directing ethical decision making.

This chapter explores what it means for cleaners to enter the upperworld. It discusses how cleaners approach the upperworld, and interact with upperworlders. Forays into the upperworld constitute both blessing and curse. Through access, cleaners may gain insight, and stories, and the upperworld’s exclusivity may rub off onto cleaners. More often than not, however, the opposite is true. The more exposure cleaners get to the upperworld, the more they come face-to-face with an inflexible status hierarchy that poses a serious ongoing threat to their dignity. The issue is not just stigmatization and abuse by customers, but denial of the cleaners’ personhood. Cleaners are not passive victims, though. They frame their situation and debunk their environment in ways that provide them with a defensive superiority. To varying degrees, they confront upperworlders, sometimes just by making themselves seen and heard. As to escape from the indignities in the upperworld, cleaners also turn to the invisible underworld. Call it the Potsdamer Platz paradox: encounters between those who work and live in the upperworld and those who labor there out of sight tend to drive the worlds further apart.

Do you believe that “thinking like a lawyer” is an important professional skill, but by no means all that there is to being a lawyer? Do you think that being a professional calls for the development of a wide range of competencies? Do you seek to understand those competencies better? Do you think that being a professional should involve the exploration of the values, guiding principles, and well-being practices foundational to successful legal practice?1 Are you interested in new and effective ways to build these competencies, values, and guiding principles into a law school’s curriculum? Would you like a framework for improving your own law school’s attention to these competencies, guiding principles, and values along with practical suggestions you can consider? Would you like to help better prepare students for gratifying careers that serve society well?

Support for a common cause typically engenders a high degree of collegiality amongst lawyers but, even when united in pursuit of a political goal, closer examination tends to reveal internal divisions along the familiar fault-lines of race, ethnicity, class, age, and gender. Reflecting on what Jessie Bernard refers to as the ‘stag effect’ in much of the existing literature on cause lawyers – a disproportionate focus on the activities of men and ‘masculine’ causes – this chapter places a particular spotlight on gender. It draws mainly (though not exclusively) on interviews with female lawyers to explore personal motivation; paradoxical opportunities; the gendered consequences associated with ‘taking on’ legal work; how gender intersects with other variables for women lawyers in such contexts; and the ways in which gender equality is imagined and sometimes manipulated by the state during periods of conflict, authoritarianism and transition. In the final section, we reflect on how the women lawyers we interviewed asserted their agency in the face of significant structural and gendered constraints.

Part II looks at the position of fixers within the larger field of journalism. The newsmaking process can be understood as a series of mediations between successive contributors along a chain that stretches from local sources all the way to foreign audiences. “Fixers,” “translators,” “producers,” and others engage in similar journalistic activities along that chain, but news contributors nonetheless draw – and police – important distinctions among these various labels. To rise in status above “translators” and perhaps be recognized as “producers,” fixers try to present themselves as objective professionals and avoid the appearance of local allegiances. Yet local connections are, paradoxically, also their greatest asset for serving client reporters’ needs. Through accounts of reporting on events from the 2014 Soma mine disaster to the Syrian and Afghan refugee crises in Turkey, these chapters illustrate fixers’ ambiguous place in journalism’s hierarchical division and their efforts to claim high-status roles and labels.

This concluding chapter argues that current ideas about post-narrativism and post-representationalism still build on narrativism and representationalism rather than rejecting them. They do so in particular in their radical move away from grand narratives that are associated with the construction of collective identities. Yet, as the previous chapters have shown, this position can go hand in hand with maintaining that historical writing can and should amount to an intervention in the social world and that it is meaningful for directing and informing a variety of democratic policy agendas. It is historical writing that keeps the future open and makes us suspicious of all attempts to declare an end to history. The ‘new’ histories that have been emerging over recent decades and which have been the subject of analysis in this book often see identification in the definition by Stuart Hall as the basis for their social intervention. They contributed to a growing self-reflexivity about the relationship of historical writing and collective identity formation and they have often taken their starting point from a body of highly diverse theories that have been discussed in Chapter 1 of this volume. The chapter recaps the arguments of the previous eleven chapters of the book and finishes with a reflection on how the struggle over and with history will continue in the future. Denying the existence of any whiggish progressivism, it charts the well-known fact that professional historians’ greater reluctance to commit to the construction of essentialised collective identities has gone hand in hand with the willingness of ‘amateur historiansߣ to do precisely that. This in turn has made it increasingly necessary for professional historians not to retreat to their ivory towers but engage with all essentialised forms of identity history. They need to become engaged and public historians who continue an ongoing struggle over the past in all human societies.

The financial information about a financial entity is asymmetrically distributed among those who contract with it. Whether the entity is a publicly traded corporation or a nonprofit state hospital, those parties of the inner circle of the entity, for example the entity’s management, possess information about the financial stability of the entity and its available resources, whereas those of the outside circle, who in many cases finance the entity or cohesively depend on its services, for example the entity’s patients/customers and workers/suppliers, lack information about its commitments, available resources or the use thereof.

Chapter 1 expands on the relationship between history, law and politics in Zimbabwe. It traces historical trends in the mobilisation of law’s coercive power by consecutive colonial and post-colonial governments, locates the development of legal consciousness in citizens’ relations to the colonial legal system and examines debates over ‘professionalism’ and ‘justice’ between the executive and the judiciary, and within the judiciary itself. It then situates the attacks on members of the judiciary and the rule of law after 2000 in the context of ZANU-PF’s mobilisation of a selective historical narrative, its ‘patriotic history’, to argue that conceptualisations of justice took on fundamentally new forms which shape the understandings of the legitimacy of law and its relation to state authority explored within this thesis, but which are rooted in this longer history.

Chapter 2 demonstrates how, after 2000, ZANU-PF extended its political control over the judiciary by staffing its institutions with political appointees. Within the attorney general’s office, such political interference ran from the attorney general himself down to prosecutors working on ZANU-PF’s ‘instructions’. It argues, however, that when we look at the working conditions in the Attorney General’s office more closely, the fragmented hegemony of law within the Zimbabwean state becomes evident. ZANU-PF-instructed prosecutors – the ‘good boys’ – who were willing to set aside their professional conduct to toe the party political line, sat side by side with ‘rebel’ prosecutors, individuals who conducted themselves impartially and did their job ‘professionally’ in an effort to safeguard ‘substantive justice’. In its attempts to exert political control over the attorney general’s office, the ZANU-PF-led government had to contend with historical debates over state professionalism, which rooted law’s legitimacy in legal institutions’ capacity to deliver justice, and tied state authority to the protection of this capacity. In their performances, ‘rebel’ prosecutors positioned themselves as actors within a wider community of judicial officials, human rights lawyers, activists and citizens that shared this consciousness of the value of professionalism.

The complex relationship between populist governments and their bureaucratic apparatus constituted the center of the theoretical and empirical analyses of this book. The concluding chapter synthesises the comparative insights form the chapters and assesses the validity of the theoretical claims of the introduction. It warns that populists in government are not condemned to fail. Populism may well get entrenched in individual political systems. Public administration has a warden role: namely, identifying threats to liberal society and our democratic systems.