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Bayard had vested many of his hopes in the commission of the Jay Treaty's London commission. In Article VII, the Jay Treaty specified that five commissioners were to meet in London for eighteen months to discern and evaluate: “Complaints […] made by divers Merchants and others, Citizens of the United States, that during the course of the War in which His Majesty is now engaged they have sustained considerable losses and damage by reason of irregular or illegal Captures or Condemnations of their vessels.”
The aim of this commission was to agree on and pay out an “adequate Compensation” to such merchants, to be covered by the British (or American) government. This systematic and formalised arbitration was new, introducing what has been termed as “the modern era of arbitral or judicial settlement of international disputes”.
For the London commission, American commissioners Christopher Gore and William Pinckney were ‘mixed’ with British commissioners, Dr Nicholl (who later resigned to take on the position of King's Advocate and was replaced by Maurice Swabey) and John Anstey. Therefore, the commission “consisted chiefly of lawyers with a wide cultural background”. Gore had studied law under John Lowell, a judge on the US Court of Appeals in Cases of Capture – the first federal US court and incidentally a law court that dealt in prize.
The Jay Treaty was published by the US government and widely disseminated in the press. Known as one of the first outcries in American politics and infamous for the public reaction to it, its circulation can barely be underestimated. 1 But how did US merchants interact with the commission or with Bayard in his capacity for assistance in claims and appeals? What information did the US government provide to mercantile communities, in which manner did they themselves interfere with the court process, and how was such information circulated?
Merchants were already following regular updates on condemnations and captures, both in the vice-admiralty courts and in the High Court of Admiralty. Decrees and lines of argumentation in court were published in newspapers.2 John Proctor obtained knowledge “by a late Bermudian paper, that the Ship Hamilton, Capt. Farrett, was taken by the Thetis British Frigate, and carried into Bermudas”3 and thus took up correspondence with the US government. Some government instructions had been printed in American newspapers, even printed in their entirety, with specific references made to the importance of providing merchants with information.4 The merchant community also functioned as a communication network in itself, with two merchants corresponding in 1797, whether they should contact other persons who might be in a similar position concerning captured property and get them in touch with Samuel Bayard.5 Yet the knowledge of what exactly the Treaty meant for their private cases remained unclear to many. The main initial point of governmental contact for most queries was the Secretary of State, although individual members of the commission, and additional staff on both sides, such as Jacob Wagner, Chief Clerk at the State Department, or Samuel Bayard, all received letters. Occasionally, citizens were referred there by other government officials.
Canada has had a meaningful impact on international law through its participation in the development of the case law of the International Court of Justice (ICJ). Several arbitral awards involving Canada, even before the establishment of the ICJ’s predecessor, the Permanent Court of International Justice, were instrumental in shaping subsequent jurisprudence in different areas of international law. Canada’s participation in proceedings before the Court, as a party and intervener in contentious cases and as a participant in advisory proceedings, has been rich in legal arguments on fundamental issues, such as the functioning of the United Nations, the ICJ’s jurisdiction, the law of the sea, environmental law, and the law of state responsibility. Perhaps even more significantly, the activities and statements made by Canada’s courts, executive, and legislature are frequently relied-upon examples of state practice in pleadings before the Court. Finally, although Canada has had only one elected judge on the bench of the ICJ, Canadian jurists have frequently served as judges ad hoc and as counsel and advocates for states.
This article examines the claim that experimental neuroscience is key to an improved understanding of actus reus. It focuses on the assumptions made by neuroscientists about the nature of actus reus and their principal conclusion that the voluntary act component thereof is essentially an endogenous process originating in the brain. The article contends that neuroscientists have misconstrued what lawyers and judges mean by actus reus such that their experimental findings on the subject are irremediably flawed.
Philosophy needs a methodology, including rules about burden of proof, in order to resolve many of its classic issues. Law might seem to provide a helpful model for assigning burdens of proof. However, candidate rules that distribute burden of proof according to form, degree of belief, and consequences all fail to help when inspected closely. This gap makes it difficult to see how to resolve many of the most important philosophical issues.
Many studies have been published on the development of maritime courts. Maritime courts (including admiralty jurisdiction) and their existence as part of an international network of common legal ground have been traced back in time through the ages. Some researchers trace this common European legal practice through the codifications of the Consulato de Mare, the Black Book of the Admiralty, Rhodian sea law, to the Tabular Amalphitana, the Rôles d’Oléron, Jerusalem or the Baltic and Hanseatic states. Other experts emphasise that merchant and consular courts had been prevalent previously. Merchant courts reflect how commercial communities found measures to ensure their interests in maritime trade. Such measures were gradually taken over by the state. Consular courts show a different approach to issues of the marine, not focusing on commercial business as a common denominator, but instead highlighting the international character of maritime trade interactions. Consular courts reduced the possibility of individuals later claiming to have been wronged as foreigners and gave leeway to different legal practices as enacted in different countries, regions or cities. Both merchant and consular courts would be replaced by admiralty courts in the long term, with the consular prevailing significantly longer. Consular courts continued to be used regularly as alternatives to prize courts well into the eighteenth century, mainly due to the practicalities of international jurisdiction. Whatever their origins, the demand for maritime courts was a direct result of international trade and its expansion. Admiralty jurisdiction was to solve this demand by addressing maritime law in a more standardised, regulated and clear fashion.
For many Londoners, the American Revolution had been a conflict far away, to be observed, not actively participated in. But for James Marriott (1730–1803) it was a matter of personal and professional importance. Sir James Marriott was the Judge of the High Court of Admiralty in London from 1778 until his resignation in 1798. The son of a London attorney, he was admitted to the College of Advocates in November 1757 and fulfilled the position of King's Advocate for four years from 1764 to 1768. He resided over the court throughout the course of four different wars, often struggling with the amount of work created by them.
Marriott was or certainly styled himself a zealous patriot and ardent anti- Americanist, both in the field of politics and in international law; for example, describing Britain as a “Nation […] too dazzling not to be seen by some of the Maritime Powers with Malevolence”. According to him, the civilian united the characteristics of “the scholar, the gentleman and friend of their country”. This patriotic flair can also be found in his judgments, such as in one case before the High Court of Admiralty, where he went so far as to say:
That this [British] nation (now fighting for its domestic preservation, as well as empire) had its cruelest enemies within its own bowels [America]; that he [Marriott] would be bound by the act in regard to costs. The American prohibitory act regulated, like other prize acts, the modes of proceeding, but did not take away the general powers of the Court; that the act required bail for double costs from the claimants [Americans]; but there were other costs beside those upon bail.
It is no secret that international law has been under strain in recent years given the global rise of populism, authoritarianism, protectionist policies, and states’ strategic retreat from multilateral institutions, including, notably, various international dispute settlement (IDS) mechanisms. This trend includes states withdrawing from international tribunals1 and from provisions on investor-state dispute settlement (ISDS) in recent international investment agreements (IIAs) or from treaties altogether.2 The withdrawal from such mechanisms, which some publicists dubbed an “assault on international adjudication,” has reinforced the fundamental assumption that the international legal order’s success remains inextricably tied to states’ submission of their international disputes to adjudication or other peaceful dispute settlement mechanisms.3
While Bayard was ostensibly to act as a neutral wartime judge, he had much to gain by aiding the British, and was, in his official capacity, woven into the web of British governmental operations. Indeed, a provenance note regarding a portrait of Robert Bayard's second wife documents that he was not only known as Major Bayard but would later also be known as “the Loyal American” by family descendants. Correspondence can be found in which British military commanders enquired about the status of cases, with Bayard acting as a hub of knowledge, regardless of whether the cases fell into his official jurisdiction. Other correspondence, however, shows a far closer link to the British government, with Major Thomas Murray, the aide-de-camp of William Tryon's successor to the governorship of New York, James Robertson, writing to Bayard, that, “I am directed […] to request that you will give the necessary Orders that the Vessel […] mentioned may not be condemned till the matter is enquired into”. Though it is hard to discern from the lack of context, it appears from this letter that Bayard as the vice-admiralty judge, was receiving orders from officials who definitively expected condemnations before any due process had taken place.
To understand Bayard's role in military operations, it is important to examine his court and the realities faced by claimants facing him.
This Article develops a liberal theory for one of the most discussed topics of contract law (its rules of interpretation) and one of the most neglected (implication). It considers these topics in tandem because they both address contractual obligations that ostensibly flow from the parties’ own choices. We reject the view which misrepresents the task of distilling these choices as value-neutral, and offer in its stead an approach that grounds interpretation and implication on liberal contract’s commitment to proactively support people’s joint plans, while securing contract’s compliance with relational justice. This account offers conceptual clarity, vindicates and elucidates significant parts of contemporary law, and suggests several pathways for reform. Notably, it allows us to sketch a liberal doctrine for the interpretation of contractual writings in which at least one party is an individual, rather than a legally sophisticated wealth-maximizing firm.
“The American Revolution was a legal, as well as a political revolution”, is how Erwin C. Surrency, founder of the American Legal History Journal, phrased it. The year 1776 spiralled into a whirlpool of blood, sea salt and independence that not only washed up on the global shores but was knitted into the maritime fabric of the law. The events ripped apart families as it stitched together new ideas and diverging concepts of loyalty. British and ‘patriot’/‘rebel’/American forces clashed not only on land but also at sea. While many consider the ocean a lawless space, maritime and naval warfare had a legal framework on which its players were supposed to base their actions, just as there was on land. This framework was not simply provided by the strategies and policies of politicians and military men, but it was reflected in the courts of law. Americans had no national navy upon the outbreak of hostilities, instead turning to privateering. Privateers were not national naval vessels, but private ships and their crews that had obtained licences to capture enemy vessels. To distinguish them from illegal pirates, they had to follow rules concerning how, when and whom to capture, as well as bringing the captured vessels into ports where the legality of captures was verified. These admiralty or vice-admiralty court processes enabled them to legally receive shares in the ‘prizes’ they had made, making privateering an act of national defence including a financial incentive for the individuals involved. Hulbert states that this “other half of the story – that is, what happened once the prize was brought to port and before a Court of Admiralty – could be just as perilous, uncertain, and complicated as the endeavour to capture an enemy vessel”.
On 1 September 1807 the privateer Betsey (Chant) successfully captured the American merchant vessel Minerva (Caldwell). She had been bound from New York to Amsterdam, laden with sugar, coffee, hides and other articles. The vessel was brought into Plymouth, and, on 29 September, was restored along with all the cargo except 5,839 hides, which were condemned as legal prize. The captors alleged that the hides had been transferred to the Minerva from the Eagle, an American vessel that had purchased them at Monte Video. The owners of the hides disagreed and went on to appeal. The work of the arbitration commission under Article VII had been concluded for three years, thus there was no governmental assistance in the case. Nevertheless, through their merchant connections, the American owners found a way to get British aid: Charles Wall, a partner in the London merchant company Baring, Brothers & Co., appealed the case on their behalf. He took on the case for the New York owners of the goods in question: LeRoy, Bayard and Co. Sadly, the Lords of Appeal did not alter the decree issued by the High Court of Admiralty. LeRoy, Bayard & Co. had to accept the verdict of the British admiralty system.
William Bayard Jr (1761–1826) was a few years older than his distant relative, Samuel Bayard. Unlike his uncle, Robert Bayard, who had been condemning American ‘rebels’ during the War of Independence, or his father, William Bayard Sr, who had fled the country and whose property had largely been confiscated, William Bayard Jr remained in the United States and attained American citizenship. In 1786, he set up the mercantile firm of LeRoy, Bayard & Co. alongside his brother-in-law Herman LeRoy.
Some of the captured sailors from vessels condemned in the Vice-Admiralty Court of New York would have been sent to detention facilities under British control. These men, often from low social backgrounds with no military training, were considered to be regular rebels as opposed to soldiers by the British armed forces, meaning they were not recognised as prisoners of war and thus were not subject to the standards of treatment required for prisoners of war by international agreements. Up to 18,000 Americans died in British captivity during the conflict. When the American Commissary General of Prisoners, Elias Boudinot, signed the preliminary articles of peace in 1783, the British treatment of American prisoners of war was glossed over. It was not conducive to the establishment of peaceful relations and the treaty declared that “all past Misunderstandings and Differences that have unhappily interrupted the good Correspondence and Friendship” between the now independent United States and Britain were to be put aside.
John Jay had been one of the negotiators of the 1783 peace treaty and had, in this capacity, travelled to London. In mid-December 1783, Jay noted that he had met his cousin, William Bayard (Sr), on the street there. Cousin ‘Billy’ was a loyalist, John Jay a patriot civil servant. Loyalists were often looked down upon as “fools and traitors”, their conduct during the war considered worse than that of the British. The different political outlooks and choices that the two cousins had made were, at this point, insurmountable. They passed each other on the street as if they were strangers.
Examines in detail the full legal process of prize law from capture of the prize to payment of the prize money.
Naval historians are well aware that prize money was a huge incentive for British naval officers and sailors during the eighteenth century and much has been written about prize taking and the associated fighting. What is much less known about are the processes which then followed, the legal process which confirmed that the prize was lawful, or otherwise, the valuation and sale of the prize, the allocation and distribution of the prize money.
Based on extensive original research and including detailed case studies this book takes the reader through the full process from capture to payment. It outlines prize law, explores the role of prize agents, and discusses how the courts worked when considering prize cases. It covers appeals, examines how some naval officers gained great wealth through prize taking with others being much less successful, and highlights how particular individuals influenced the process. Throughout the reader follows the stories of individual captains and their struggles and triumphs in the prize law process.
The Real Pain of Punishment explores the true pains of incarceration using insights from empirical sciences and people with lived prison experiences. The book highlights the concept of 'belonging' as an unprecedented lens for critically interrogating the legitimacy of incarceration across penal theory, sentencing practice, and human rights frameworks. The chapters chart pathways for bridging the gap between the normative idea of punishment and the stark realities of prison life. The final chapter, written with scholars currently and formerly incarcerated in a New York State facility, reflects on how embracing belonging within penal approaches can inform responses to harm grounded in humanization, proximity, empowerment, and collaboration. With this chapter and more, the book, advances a call for deeper epistemic dialogue within legal discourse on crime, punishment, and justice. This title is part of the Flip it Open Programme and may also be available open access. Check our website Cambridge Core for details.
This book explores the emerging development of community-investor dispute prevention and facilitation mechanisms employed by multilateral and national development banks in the Asia Pacific region. In the decades since the development of the first accountability mechanisms were introduced, much has been learned about public consultation, community engagement and dispute prevention during the early stages of major infrastructure development programs. Drawing on case studies, project statistics and survey data, this book explores the achievements, challenges and lessons learned in community-investor dispute prevention and resolution in infrastructure projects in 12 states in the Asia Pacific region. Given the widescale impact of such projects, understanding how to advance consultation practices with local communities is necessary to realize the benefits of sustainable growth. This book allows readers to understand that localized decision-making channels, far from aggregating disputes, conversely provide a conduit to incorporate joint aspirations into project design such that disputes are avoided.
A key book about rights, separation of powers and the State, which assesses a decade and a half of transformative constitutionalism in Kenya through the lens of landmark constitutional judgments, discussing their international import and suggesting new pathways towards democratic constitutionalism.
In 2010, after more than two decades of struggle, Kenya's new Constitution was born. Widely accepted to be "transformative" in nature, in the decade and a half since it was enacted, the Constitution has been at the centre of national discourse. And in that time, the country's courts have been confronted with crucial and high-stakes constitutional disputes, which are both distinctively Kenyan in nature, but also, are disputes that have long been common to constitutional democracies around the world: they include issues around constitutional change, federalism, imperial presidencies, the role of the legislature, election disputes, land rights, and horizontality, among others. Drawing comparisons with constitutional jurisdictions globally, which often rely upon precedent from each other's jurisdictions, this book examines transformative constitutionalism under the 2010 Constitution, and shows that while Kenyan courts have been informed by - and been in conversation with - global precedent, they have crafted unique and particular solutions.
The book excavates the engagement of Kenyan Courts with the 2010 Kenyan Constitution to highlight the unique and innovative contributions that Kenyan courts have made to global constitutional problems and to suggest pathways for the future. Showcasing the jurisprudence of the courts in action, this book discusses how and when the power to amend a constitution can be limited or constrained and how constitutional change can be insulated from political interference. It examines issues of parliamentarianism and devolution in the context of the national controversy around constituency development funds, and reveals how Kenya provides a model for understanding constitutional separation of powers. It looks at the process for challenging presidential elections, and details how the Supreme Court has aimed to set out clear legal and evidentiary standards for how a court ought to deal with a pure political dispute - something with which judiciaries around the world have struggled. It explores the evolution of socio-economic rights, including the right to housing, non-discrimination, and equality before the law, as well as the question of how transformative constitutionalism interrogates private power. Placing contemporary Kenyan constitutionalism at its heart, this work of comparative constitutional law asks what the ongoing, global constitutional conversation can learn from the Kenyan experience under its new order.