There is a prevalent understanding that the Colombian government and the FARC got to the negotiation table in Havana because the FARC were cornered and so weak they had no other option – that military defeat forced them to the negotiation table. Proscription, the logic would go, played a key part in this by weakening the armed group. However, a closer look at these dynamics through the lens of ripeness shows a different picture. While proscription undeniably weakened the FARC, the chapter shows that by bolstering the government to such an extent it also prevented it from perceiving a mutually hurting stalemate. Moreover, proscription also worked against ripeness by blocking the way out – neither the government nor the FARC have a political exit to the armed confrontation. The chapter goes on to explore how these challenges were overcome by going back to the concept of the ‘linguistic ceasefire’. It adds the idea of the ‘political landing strip’, which highlights the innovative roles played by international and local actors despite proscription.

Chapter 3 sets out an analytical framework to explore how the international listing of armed groups as ‘terrorists’ might affect the process through which conflict parties get to the negotiation table. Drawing mainly on the peace and conflict literature, the chapter then details the three key dynamics that are needed for conflict parties to start negotiating: 1) moving from vilification to de-vilification; 2) moving from asymmetry to establishing a perception of symmetry; 3) perceiving a mutually hurting stalemate and the need to seek a way out. Revisiting the key concepts in turn, the chapter assesses how proscription might affect these central processes.

Chinese law provides compensation to enterprises when their financial interests are affected by legal transitions. While statutes broadly guarantee this compensation, court decisions on such matters vary from case to case. Empirical evidence suggests that courts generally offer stronger protection to enterprises in the manufacturing and real estate sectors than to those in the coal mining industry. This chapter applies the theory of regulatory costs to explain these varying levels of protection across different sectors. It argues that in sectors where the boundaries between public power and private property are more difficult to define, regulatory costs tend to be higher, leading to weaker legal protection. Consequently, the protection offered to private enterprises is hierarchical rather than equal – it is stronger in some sectors than in others, depending on the need for intense regulation and frequent policy adjustments. Under China’s legal system, the regulatory costs are likely to be borne by private investors in the regulated sectors, which discourages private investment and amplifies the role of state-owned enterprises.

Although rarely acknowledged, Buddhist monastics are among the most active lawmakers and jurists in Asia, operating sophisticated networks of courts and constitutions while also navigating – and shaping – secular legal systems. This chapter surveys the entanglements of Buddhist monastic law and state law in Sri Lanka while also providing a general overview of Sri Lanka as a multi-religious, multi-legal site. It introduces readers to the key methods and arguments advanced in this book, including arguments about how and why one should analyse legal pluralism ‘as a practice.’

The prologue fleshes out the lessons drawn from this book. It offers best practices for a workable AI governance model that uses technical solutions, business self-regulation, and legal regulation. Then, it delves into some of the shortcomings of that model. The radical-democratic perspective that I advocate makes five general, practical suggestions for everyone concerned with AI risks and harms. (1) Organize: Build networks of support and civic organizations around technology-specific concerns as well as conventional rights considerations; (2) Learn: Acquire cross-disciplinary capabilities on the uses, practical applications, potential risks, and governance models associated with technologies like AI; (3) Participate: Push politicians and businesses to expand the boundaries of decision-making in the public and private sectors; (4) Care: Approach technological change from the perspective of vulnerable populations, and with an ethic of non-domination that refuses to treat nature and other people as instruments; and (5) Resist: Maintain an openness to contention with the producers and users of technologies that generate risks and harms.

This chapter details the vital role of Indigenous trade and investment in promoting sustainable development. Firstly, it discusses the prerequisite for Indigenous trade, emphasizing a nation-building approach centred on the significance of robust tribal infrastructure. The chapter then addresses the barriers hindering Indigenous inter-tribal trade, including state, or provincial interference in tribal jurisdiction, poor tribal governance, Canada’s failure to honour its Jay Treaty obligations, the lack of Indigenous foreign trade zones, the exclusion of Indigenous traditional knowledge (TK) from intellectual property (IP) regimes, and historical challenges in trade financing. Additionally, the chapter explores Indigenous trade and commerce engagements with non-Indigenous enterprises, both with and without federal permission, highlighting the implications, challenges, and opportunities involved. By examining these aspects, the chapter advocates for empowering Indigenous nations through trade and investment, fostering economic opportunities while preserving cultural heritage, and working towards sustainable development by creating a strong economic baseline.

This chapter builds on Chapter 2 by explaining the etymologies of the complainant parents’ vernacular normative convictions – centring on Ubu-Ntu – that were woefully misunderstood and dismissed by the court in Komape. Thus, using language to uncover the self-conception and values of pre-colonial southern Africans, such as relational personhood and social organization, it explores how decolonising ‘the common law’ by recognising the Komape family’s world-sense requires focusing on the indigenous intellectual roots of the Ntu. It argues that these offer alter-Native ways of understanding concepts, challenging dominant European frameworks and (il)legalities. The analysis draws from ethnographic constitutional research and the sociolinguistic record, aiming to recover neglected histories of indigenous peoples’ identities and normative frameworks, often oversimplified as ‘customary law’, that still influence contemporary legal norms and social orders. Reclaiming indigenous ways of being and knowing, it highlights the often-muted gendered aspects of indigenous intellectual histories that would contribute to a more holistic understanding of social justice. Ultimately, the chapter calls for rethinking South African constitutionalism beyond Euro-American conceptions thereof, focusing on Ntu legalities and intellectual traditions. This offers a pathway to justice rooted in vernacular perspectives, which remain critical to addressing contemporary socio-legal challenges, as exemplified by the Komape case.