To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
Chapter 1 provides an overview of the core argument and empirical approach of the book. It also situates social constitutionalism with respect to other visions of constitutional law (including liberal and illiberal constitutionalism), describes how social constitutionalism rose in prominence alongside the emergence of neoliberalism, and details what is at stake with the embedding (or lack of embedding) of social constitutions.
The British colonial government frustrated European missionaries’ desire to convert Northern Nigeria by curtailing Christian proselytization. This chapter situates missionaries’ tumultuous relationship with the state in the emergence of secularism as an imperial technique of managing religions and religious difference. That technique involved the government’s insistence on its separation from Christian missions, and its indirect rule of the territory through Muslim chiefs. Colonial administrators resolved that paradox–of the state’s rhetoric of separation from Christian missions even while the state remained intimate with Muslim elites–in one of two ways. Some administrators emphasized the superiority of the religious liberty of Muslims over the missionary desire to proselytize; others stressed the imperative for the state to be separate from what remained of the precolonial Sokoto caliphate. As administrators latched on to either argument, so did colonial subjects also deploy either notion to further their agenda. What emerges is a story of a struggle between imperial bureaucrats, Christian missionaries, and Muslim chiefs over the governance of religious difference.
Chapter 1 makes use of two empirical approaches. Its first part uses property law from 136 jurisdictions in an unsupervised machine-learning method (hierarchical clustering) that divide these jurisdictions into 10 legal families. Unlike the traditional wisdom that highlights the difference between common law and civil law, this chapter finds that, in terms of property doctrines, a trichotomy better describes the legal systems: one big group is jurisdictions affected by French property law; another big group is composed of jurisdictions that follow or resemble German property law; and the final group contains common-law jurisdictions, Nordic countries, and a number of socialist jurisdictions. The second part of Chapter 1 re-combines 156 jurisdictions into 149 countries, and computes the correlation coefficients among each country pair, to show dyadic similarities in property law.
This chapter explores advance directives in Israel. Specifically, the background behind legislation of the “Dying Patient” Act is articulated, which constitutes the main legal framework for advance directives in Israel, with an emphasis on the role that a combination of religion and politics has played in shaping this law. Then, the main aspects of the law in relation to advance directives are explained, including the (narrow) definition of the “dying patient” and its implications, actions that are forbidden and allowed, with respect to not prolonging the dying patient’s life, how emphasis on advance directives may go both in the direction of prolonging or refraining from prolonging the dying patient’s life, etc. These main legal aspects are also compared to the manner in which they were addressed before the law was enacted. Finally, the chapter shows how the restrictiveness of Israeli regulations for advance directives has actually led to their under-regulation in practice from various facets. This includes practical difficulties in their implementation, the many “shades of grey” in interpreting the law by healthcare providers, as well as legal critique and precedent questioning the Dying Patient Act. Possible cultural influence(s) in the Israeli context are also stressed.
Already during the period between the two Opium Wars, China and its vast potential market had become a key site for legal and administrative innovations by Western diplomats, missionaries, and traders. The Qing conception of guoti 國體 or “state form/stateliness,” in particular, was creatively redeployed in an effort to articulate a diplomatic compromise during key meetings at Tianjin, Shanghai, and Beijing between 1858 and 1860, when a new multilateral international law regime for China was crafted by the invading Western powers.
Understanding access to justice in any jurisdiction requires identification of factors which create the dynamic in which access functions. Jurisdictions can have factors in common, but each jurisdiction has a dynamic of its own. Without an understanding of these factors and how they interact, proposed improvements in access may not accomplish much. Viewing access to justice in this way arguably allows for a clearer vision of positive change, because it acknowledges why particular changes may be difficult or unlikely. Establishing access to justice dynamics in sufficient complexity is also necessary for comparative understandings across jurisdictions, but comparative insight requires reference to an expanded set of jurisdictions, including Asia and beyond.
Chapter 1 provides background by introducing concepts of Confucianism and Confucian culture, and by emphasizing the diversity of the Confucian tradition as it evolved in different countries. It is suggested that approaches to competition law and policy in East Asian countries should be shaped and implemented in ways that respond adaptively and strategically to cultural factors. The characteristics of East Asian firms should also be taken into account for purposes of competition law and policy, not merely in the sense that particular vigilance is required, but also because it underlines the need for proactive and creative efforts to change cultural attitudes. The chapter suggests that existing attitudes and mental frames are not always aligned with the legal rules that appear on the books, and they may impede the emergence of cultural pre-conditions that could support or catalyse desirable legal and behavioural change. The chapter describes the various dimensions of Confucian cultural influences that are discussed in the substantive chapters of the book; and it outlines the structure of the book.
Throughout Hong Kong’s history, financial markets and their regulation have evolved with financial crises. Every significant financial crisis in Hong Kong has pivoted on liquidity in either or both the banking and monetary systems.1 Accordingly, liquidity support has played a prominent and critical role in managing Hong Kong’s financial stability. From the beginning, the lender of last resort was the primary means of managing banks’ liquidity and solvency, with funding being sourced from the private sector. Although the government has assumed this role over the past 30 years, there is yet to be a need for this support. With the modernization of financial markets, banks have become susceptible to funding and market liquidity. These liquidity risks were exemplified in the 2008–9 global financial crisis (GFC) and resurfaced, to a lesser extent, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The principle and practice of pro bono – volunteer legal services for poor and other marginalized groups – is an increasingly important feature of justice systems around the world. A quarter century ago, organized pro bono programs were a rarity in the United States and virtually nonexistent elsewhere. Now, in contrast, pro bono has become widely diffused and institutionally central in a growing number of countries throughout the Global North and Global South. In a sign of pro bono’s increasing international profile, PILNet (the Network for Public Interest Law), a key sponsor of the global pro bono movement, has hosted Pro Bono Forums across continents (ten in Europe and five in Asia), bringing together law firm pro bono coordinators, civil society partners, and representatives from more than fifty pro bono organizations in countries as diverse as Indonesia and Italy. In 2013, the Global Pro Bono Network was founded as a consortium of pro bono intermediaries and now includes 52 organizations in 34 countries. A 2016 survey of large-firm pro bono, covering 64,500 lawyers from 130 law firms in 75 countries, showed lawyers contributed 2.5 million pro bono hours over a 12-month period, with an annual average of 39.2 hours per lawyer. Once confined to the professional margins, pro bono now occupies a central position in the global access-to-justice movement.