Many years after launching Leviathan and towards the end of his life Thomas Hobbes composed A Dialogue between a Philosopher and a Student of the Common Laws of England in which he set out his final thoughts on fundamental matters of law, legislation and sovereignty. This work was published for the first time in 1681, two years after the author's death, and though it represents Hobbes's final thoughts on these questions it has received but slight study compared with his other works. Leviathan and other earlier works must, no doubt, take first place in interest for the political scientist. The Dialogue, on the other hand, is a work of a jurisprudential slant and is as deserving of the attention of lawyers as it has been largely neglected by them. To this neglect there is one important exception. Sir Matthew Hale rejoined in argument to Hobbes's thesis. His argument remained unpublished till modern times, and even the enormous modern literature on Hobbes's writings has generally preserved a silence upon Hale's Reflections. One modern author indeed remarks briefly that “Hale's short treatise is the most brilliant contemporary reply to Hobbes's theory of positive law,” but the remark is not developed. The prevalent opinion may be represented by Holdsworth's view, and this supposes that Hale failed to grasp Hobbes's idea of sovereignty and that Hale's criticism therefore missed its mark. It seems timely to re-examine the received opinion (if Holdsworth's may be so called) for more than one reason.

There is an apparent paradox between Dicey's treatment of parliamentary sovereignty as the central premise of the British constitution and his advocacy of the referendum, a tool of popular sovereignty. Bogdanor wrote:

Cosgrove, who wrote an authoritative biography on Dicey, explained that Dicey turned to the referendum in his search for a device that would prevent Home Rule. Dicey's commitment to defeat Home Rule, he wrote, distorted his judgment.

The tribunals system in England and Wales has been transformed by the entry into force of the Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007; among other things, tribunals are now located more firmly and explicitly than ever before within the judicial branch. Questions concerning the relationship between tribunals and regular courts fall to be confronted afresh within this new institutional landscape. Those questions form the focus of this article, which is particularly concerned with the issue recently considered by the Supreme Court in Cart whether, and if so to what extent, decisions taken within the tribunals system (by the Upper Tribunal) should be susceptible to judicial review by the High Court. In Cart, emphasis was placed upon the concept of “proportionate dispute resolution” as a means by which to delimit regular courts' oversight of tribunals' decisions, raising fundamental questions both of legal doctrine (relating to the relevance of the orthodox doctrinal tools of administrative law) and legal policy (concerning the degree of error on the part of a tribunal that a higher court should tolerate in the interests of the efficient, or proportionate, use of judicial resources).

This paper was prompted by the feeling that the differences between the systems under comparison are not as great as they are commonly believed to be and by the knowledge that lawyers in each of these countries tend to have a vague if not distorted picture of each other's laws. The way I have tried to approach my subject has been through the use of statistics so, before I say anything about the differences between the systems, real or apparent, let me make some cautionary remarks.

It is fitting for a lecturer to pay his tribute to the man under whose auspices, so to speak, he lectures. That sometimes is a difficult matter, requiring the closing of an eye to many things, but in this case I am happily absolved from any such necessity, for there can be no doubt that Maitland was a man of genius. I hardly need say this in Cambridge, or in any other place where scholars come together, for his reputation has been long and securely established. It is now more than half a century since his death, and longer since his books were written, yet they are today more widely read than ever. The intensive researches of the last fifty years have made only the smallest alterations in the conclusions they reached. He himself was perhaps not quite as sure of them as we are. The most honest of men, he was always careful to reveal his doubts, and it is to a subject on which he had many doubts that I address myself today. I shall talk about the ownership and heritability of land in the twelfth century, in other words, about the emergence of the fee simple as an estate in land. I shall begin by setting before you Maitland's own account.

This paper addresses one aspect of the European Court of Justice’s troubled case-law on the direct effect of Community directives: the so-called “incidental effect” of unimplemented directives against private parties, and its uncomfortable relationship to the basic framework of legal principles so forcefully affirmed by the Court in Faccini Dori [1994] E.C.R. I-3325. It is argued that the judgments in question can perhaps best be understood as some form of “disguised” vertical direct effect, but that any such solution merely reinforces the unsatisfactory policy quandary which besets this area of Community law.

The British constitution is famously unentrenched: constitutional laws are not intrinsically more difficult to override than ordinary laws. However, in the largely overlooked 2012 case of H v Lord Advocate, the Supreme Court said that the Scotland Act 1998 cannot be impliedly repealed due to its “fundamental constitutional” status. Unless judicial thinking changes, courts in the future may treat constitutional statutes, like the Scotland Act, as capable only of express repeal, making such statutes “quasi-entrenched”. In this article, we argue that, as a judicial innovation, the quasi-entrenchment of constitutional statutes lacks a sound legal basis. Parliament can make its intention to repeal a constitutional statute clear without making it express, and judges cannot, on their own initiative, ignore Parliament's clear decision to repeal even a constitutional statute.

In 2007 the European Commission produced a Staff Working Paper seeking consultation on the development of auditors' liability in Europe. The present article represents the views of the Working Group on the subject set up by the Max Planck Institute for Comparative and International Private Law in Hamburg.

It is beyond dispute now that corporations have replaced states as the most important makers of waves in the world's economy. It is also firmly established that with the increasing globalisation of that economy corporations operate in many cases far beyond the borders of the country that presided over their birth. A company which crosses frontiers to operate outside its original jurisdiction can bring problems of several different kinds in its wake. A court dealing with such a company may have to ascertain which law is, or should be, the law which regulates its affairs. The company may have internal disorders or may be experiencing difficulties in its external relationships. In seeking to grapple with these problems the jurisdictions of the world are broadly divided into two camps. There are those which look to the law of the place of the company's incorporation to govern these matters, and those which look to the law of the place of the central administration of the company as being the correct law to be supreme in this field. Some jurisdictions take a variety of half-way positions in this debate.

The theory of the abuse of rights is one which has been rejected by our law, with the result that the ancient brocard ‘dura lex sed lex’ finds its most vivid illustration in the present-day decisions of the Anglo-American Courts. The absolutist view of rights which is a feature of the Common Law was summed up by Lord Macnaghten in trenchant language when he said in Mayor of Bradford v. Pickles that although Mr. Pickles's conduct in wilfully depriving his fellow townsmen of part of their water supply might be ‘shocking to a moral philosopher’ there was nothing in the law of England which could stop him from being as ‘churlish, selfish and grasping’ as it was possible for a man to be. In other words our law has not hesitated to place the seal of its approval upon a theory of the extent of individual rights which can only be described as the consecration of the spirit of unrestricted egoism.

The Offences Against the Person Act 1861 is much disparaged by today's criminal lawyers. Its provisions have been described as “impenetrable” by the Court of Appeal. The House of Lords could not conceal its dissatisfaction with what is called “the irrational result of this piecemeal legislation”. Andrew Ashworth has written of the “antiquated and illogical structure” of an Act which the Law Commission regards as “unsatisfactory in very many respects”. Most recently Brooke J., launching the latest version of the Commission's reform package, lambasted the operation of the 1861 Act as “a disgrace”, and claimed that this hostile view is shared in every corner of the criminal justice system.

The difference of judicial opinion in the Supreme Court in Evans provokes reflection on fundamental constitutional principles, such as parliamentary sovereignty and the rule of law. A statute that on its face seems to permit a government minister to override a judicial decision of which he disapproves inevitably raises acute concern; the correct reading of the statute depends on the most persuasive integration of basic principles, placing the text within its wider constitutional context. The Justices deployed distinctions between law, fact, and public interest in rather different ways, reflecting their divergent interpretative approaches. The role of constitutional convention is also of particular interest – central to the legal issues arising, on one view, but largely irrelevant on another. At the root of these disagreements lie contrasting conceptions of law and adjudication.

If an irregularity has been committed in the course of a company's affairs, or some wrong has been done to the company, can the individual shareholder bring a complaint before the court? The Rule in Foss v. Harbottle purports to give a negative answer to this question, subject to certain “exceptions.” The answer need occasion no surprise when it is remembered that the judges have for long been reluctant to interfere in the internal affairs of companies and similar associations; they have usually abdicated their jurisdiction in favour of the obvious alternative authority—the majority of the members. “It is not the business of the court to manage the affairs of the company. That is for the shareholders and the directors.” Whether this approach is a wholly adequate basis for judicial policy in the area of modern company law is open to doubt; the “majority” in the modern public company is usually under the effective control of a small body of managers. But the approach of the courts remains the same; the interests of the majority are theoretically paramount in the last resort. The rights of the minority must, in consequence, be restricted; and, in particular, the minority cannot complain of wrong done to the corporation as a whole or of internal improprietiess. In such terms of deceptive simplicity is the Rule in Foss v. Harbottle often presented; but the Rule is notorious among students of company law for the difficulties which lie underneath this simple surface. In order to investigate those difficulties, it is necessary, first, to examine the two different parts of the Rule and their point of contact; secondly, to mention twe preliminary matters concerning directors which must be kept in mind in the course of the discussion; and thirdly, to set out, and examine under four headings, the principles which are commonly said to constitute the “exceptions” to the Rule.