Sometimes the words used by parties in their contracts are sufficiently clear and can easily be applied without recourse to interpretation. But that is often not the case in practice. And once parties are in a dispute, each side tends to interpret the agreed terms in a manner that suits their respective interests. Confronted with competing interpretations of what was ostensibly agreed upon, it is the task of the court to arrive at the correct or proper interpretation of the contract. This task is a critical one but the Contract Act itself does not offer any guidance or specific rules about interpretation. Those rules are contained in judge-made common law and, to some extent, in the Evidence Act.

Contractual interpretation by Indian courts tends to be highly case-specific and the focus is more on the outcome in a given case with less emphasis on tying conclusions to more general principles of interpretation. Even where general principles are discussed, there is a good deal of inconsistency within the case law. The interplay between the provisions of the Evidence Act and the judge-made common law in this area is complex, and that adds to the difficulty in identifying clear principles (especially because courts sometimes ignore the requirements of the Evidence Act when setting out particular principles of interpretation).

In what follows, we discuss the principles which, in our view, set out the broad contours within which the exercise of interpretation is likely to take place. At the outset, we discuss the threshold issue of how the terms of the contract are identified.

Until recently, the right to science has lingered at the periphery of international human rights discourse. Tellingly, some have labelled it the ‘sleeping beauty’ of international human rights law. But this metaphor is far too gentle. The right to science is not simply asleep. It has been buried – under decades of doctrinal inattention, institutional inertia and a broader failure to imagine that science itself could, and should, be the object of rights discourse.

The Contract Act does not have a specific provision dealing with whether parties must have an intention to create legal relations. Under English law, an agreement is not enforceable as a contract unless the parties intended to enter into legal relations. The English law rule is derived from Balfour v. Balfour where Atkin L.J. ruled that an agreement between husband and wife could not be enforced because ‘the parties did not intend that [the agreement] should be attended by legal consequences’. Although the Contract Act does not contain an equivalent requirement, there are Indian decisions that have considered and applied the rule established by Balfour v. Balfour. The Supreme Court has not entirely excluded the possibility that such a requirement may be part of the Indian law of contract (although it has expressed scepticism about introducing such a rule as a supplement to the statutory requirements under the Contract Act). There is sparse authority on this point under Indian law and the position remains open.

In CIT v. Kameshwar Singh the Patna High Court had to determine whether a promise made by a maharaja to the vicereine of India to make donations to the Viceroy's War Purposes Fund gave rise to a binding contract. The question arose in a tax proceeding. Having made the donations, the maharaja claimed that the amount donated was exempt from tax in his hands. The exemption depended on the nature of the settlement or disposition, and the extent to which it was revocable. After examining whether there existed only a mere promise or a legally enforceable agreement, the High Court concluded that there was no binding contract. The High Court cited Balfour v. Balfour and noted that it was ‘no intention of the parties in entering into the agreement that any legal obligation should be created’.

Chapter 2 lays the foundations for the study and further clarifies its scope. Unhealthy lifestyles are defined here as collective patterns of unhealthy behaviour, based on choices from options available to people according to their life chances. This definition highlights four key dimensions central to the book: the health risks associated with those behaviours, their consumable nature, their voluntary character and, finally, the relevance of social norms and structural factors. The chapter explores the health dimension in greater detail for each of the three categories of products studied here, tobacco, alcohol and unhealthy foods, clarifying the health risks to which consumers are exposed and introducing the central regulatory questions raised by each category.

A contingent contract is one where the parties make the enforceability of their contract subject to the happening or non-happening of some uncertain future event. Thus, there exists a concluded contract, a meeting of minds, but the enforceability of that contract stands deferred until the happening or non-happening of the event. Formation is complete, but the operation and enforceability of the contract is suspended.

Chapter III of the Contract Act (Sections 31 to 36) addresses contingent contracts. These statutory provisions ought, in our view, to be restricted to cases where the entirety of the contract is deferred until the happening or non-happening of an uncertain future event. In other words, Chapter III covers contingent contracts, not conditional obligations under a contract. A true contingent contract is one where neither party can be called upon to perform any obligation under the contract until the future uncertain event has either happened or not happened. Additionally, in our view, the contingent contracts covered by Chapter III of the Contract Act are ones where the contingency is collateral to the contract, that is, there is no obligation assumed by of one of the parties to bring about (or not bring about) the contingency.

Many contracts contain conditional obligations, and disputes about performance will be resolved principally through contractual interpretation. No reference to Chapter III is necessary in such cases (although judicial decisions often, wrongly, refer to it). A prominent example of unnecessary reliance on Chapter III arises in cases involving force majeure clauses.

Courts can sometimes order parties to return benefits which they have obtained from other persons. This type of ‘restitutionary’ remedy arises when B is ordered to return money or property given to it by A, or to compensate for services rendered to it by A. It is important to appreciate that the basis for these orders is non-contractual. Indeed, if there is a relevant and subsisting contractual obligation between the parties, that will usually exclude any such restitutionary remedy.

This chapter considers the restitutionary remedies provided in the Contract Act, and how those remedies apply in various situations of contractual failure. This is a complex area of law and there are many issues which remain unresolved in Indian law. In this chapter, we set out an outline of the statutory framework and provide a brief account of how, in our view, that framework ought to apply when contracts, as well as purported contracts, collapse for various reasons. This chapter does not seek to provide a comprehensive account of the Indian law of unjust enrichment and restitution. Instead, it deals with a particular facet of that much wider subject.

THE STATUTORY FRAMEWORK

Orders for restitution are usually based on statutory duties (imposed under provisions such as Sections 64 and 65 of the Contract Act) or on judicial decisions made in the exercise of statutory powers (conferred under provisions such as Sections 30 and 33 of the Specific Relief Act, 1963). In addition, orders for restitution may also be based on the extra-statutory common law but this is much more controversial.

The key provisions in the Contract Act providing for duties to make restitution are Sections 64, 65, 70 and 72.

• • Sections 64 and 65 should be considered together. Of the two, Section 64 has a narrower scope. It only applies when a voidable contract is rescinded, and it only imposes duties of restitution on the person who is rescinding the voidable contract.

This chapter details the methodology and sources used to define and clarify the justiciable normative content of the right to science. Anchored in legal positivism, the analysis applies doctrinal, black-letter interpretation techniques derived from the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT), complemented by Chapman’s violations approach. While textual, systematic, teleological and historical interpretations under the VCLT provide clarity to treaty provisions, the violations approach illuminates state non-compliance, clarifying actionable dimensions of human rights. Sources considered include primary sources such as treaties, secondary sources such as treaty body pronouncements and judicial decisions and relevant soft law instruments. Collectively, this methodological and source-based framework seeks to articulate the normative boundaries of the right to science.

This chapter examines the interconnectedness of the right to science with other human rights, guided by the principles of indivisibility, interdependence and interrelatedness as articulated in the Vienna Declaration. It demonstrates how understanding these connections clarifies the normative content and deepens comprehension of the right itself. By mapping key linkages with rights under the ICESCR (culture, health, adequate standard of living, education), ICCPR (torture, inhuman degrading treatment, thought, conscience, religion, opinion, public affairs) and emerging rights such as development and a healthy environment, it underscores that the right to science cannot be viewed in isolation. It highlights both positive interactions – such as mutual reinforcement – and situations requiring careful balancing, particularly when rights come into conflict. Through systematic interpretation and references to authoritative instruments, the chapter argues that a nuanced view of these interconnections provides a richer, more practical understanding of the right to science within the broader framework of international human rights law.

According to Section 14 of the Contract Act where a party has been ‘coerced’ to enter into a contract or has been induced to do so by the exercise of ‘undue influence’, there is an absence of free consent. Such a contract is voidable at the instance of the victim, that is, the party whose consent has been caused by the ‘coercion’ or the ‘undue influence’.

Coercion under Section 15 of the Contract Act is concerned with actions or threats made with the intention of causing a person's consent. Section 15 is thus focused on the process by which consent is obtained, and not on the actual outcome or bargain arrived at. By way of contrast, undue influence under Section 16 of the Contract Act takes into account the final bargain to a certain extent because it entails an examination of whether a party in a position to dominate the will of the other party has used that position to extract an ‘unfair advantage’. Despite these differences, it has been observed that the line between coercion and undue influence is ‘sometimes thin and it is possible to conceive of cases where the act might fall under both heads’.

The challenges courts have faced in relation to Sections 15 and 16 are different. In the case of coercion, the definition in Section 15 is quite clear but it is limited, and there is a question of whether it requires judicial amplification to cover instances of pressurising conduct that may not fit within the express statutory language. In the case of Section 16, the provision – after its amendment in 1899 – is quite widely cast and the challenge for the courts has been to set determinate boundaries.

In the remainder of this chapter, we address: (a) what constitutes coercion and undue influence, (b) the requirement of causation, and (c) the question of remedies.

Three points are worth making by way of background before proceeding further.

One type of remedy for breach of contract is to require that the breaching party do what he or she promised to do under the contract. So, in a contract for the sale of 100 kilograms of cardamom, if the breaching party is the recalcitrant seller, this type of remedy would involve an order that the seller provide the 100 kilograms of cardamom to the buyer. When this type of remedy is granted, the court requires that the breaching party actually carry out what was promised under the contract (physically provide the cardamom) as opposed to paying an amount of money which is meant to substitute for his or her non-performance (for instance, paying a sum equal to the difference between the contract price and the current market price for 100 kilograms of cardamom).

This type of ‘performance-based’ remedy is provided for in the Specific Relief Act 1963 (in this chapter, the ‘SRA’). The SRA authorises two varieties of ‘performancebased’ remedies: ‘specific performance’ (provided for in Part II, Chapter II of the SRA) and ‘injunctions’ (provided for in Part III, Chapters VII–VIII of the SRA). The remedy of specific performance only applies when there is a contractual promise to take positive action. An order that the defendant carry out that promised positive action is an order for ‘specific performance’. However, if the contractual promise is a negative promise, that is, a promise to refrain from taking particular action, an order prohibiting the defendant from taking the action which it promised not to carry out is described as an ‘injunction’ (and not as an order for specific performance). More specifically, injunctions that prevent a party from taking particular action are called ‘prohibitory injunctions’.

Many factors influence the perceptions, attitudes and behaviour of actors in co-management, from trust and perceptions of legitimacy to the timing and extent of participation. The chapter introduces and reviews concepts that have less extensively been applied to analyses of the co-management of renewable natural resources. These concepts are personal values, behaviour, social norms, identity and agency. The chapter draws on literature from social psychology and philosophy to identify key characteristics of each concept and identify what has been learnt from application of these concepts to relevant contexts to the co-management of renewable natural resources. The chapter concludes by identifying key and recurring themes, particularly related to the need to understand the social context of co-management, the role of social norms and the links between values, behaviour, identity and agency and the rights and pursuits of justice of Indigenous Peoples and local communities involved in co-management.

When a contract is breached, the innocent party usually suffers some loss. Its remedy is to sue for monetary compensation, that is, to sue for an award of ‘damages’. This remedy is governed by Section 73 of the Contract Act. Moreover, the contract itself may stipulate a particular sum to be paid in case of breach. The position with respect to this type of ‘agreed remedy’ is governed by Section 74 of the Contract Act. This chapter briefly discusses both of these remedies.

More specifically, it sets out certain general principles that apply to measuring and assessing loss, such as the date on which such assessment is to be made, the extent to which subsequent (post-breach) events may inform such assessment and the standard of certainty to be applied. The key ingredient of causation is also discussed. It further addresses two principles that limit the recovery of compensation: remoteness and the failure to mitigate losses. Finally, it deals with the limitations placed on the enforceability of ‘agreed remedies’ under Section 74 of the Contract Act.

MEASURING LOSS

Object of the exercise

The broad purpose of an award of damages is to improve the existing position of the innocent party and place it in the position which it would have occupied if the contract had been properly performed.

Take a contract concluded in November for the supply of 100 kilograms of cardamom by 1 January at a price of INR 1,000 per kilogram. By 1 January the market price has increased to INR 1,500 and the seller breaches the contract by refusing to supply any cardamom. The buyer is worse off than the counterfactual non-breach position in that: (a) it does not have 100 kilograms of cardamom and (b) in order to obtain 100 kilograms of cardamom it has to go back into the market and pay an increased price.