What is distinctive about a feminist analysis of law? Conversely, what does it mean to characterize the law (or a law) as distinctively “male” as a way of criticizing its injustice? It is widely assumed by both feminist scholars and nonfeminists or curious onlookers that a feminist analysis of law must have distinctive features that set it off from mainstream/“malestream” theories of law. Feminist scholars often try to “sell” feminist analysis to interested newcomers and try to break down the recalcitrance of those who seem to want to marginalize and dismiss it precisely by claiming a difference of perspective for feminist analysis of which no well-educated lawyer or legal commentator can afford to be ignorant. Meanwhile, feminist claims are also challenged by those who think they can reach the same conclusion on independent grounds for therefore not being distinctively feminist; “What makes that particularly feminist?” the communitarian, for example, will ask, faced with an argument that feminism is critical of the individualistic bias of the legal system.

There is no escaping the fact that law shapes identity. Laws tells us who we are and where we stand in society. While sometimes benign, such classification can also be a devastatingly powerful instrument of ostracism and subjugation. Legally enforced racial segregation sent a cold and harsh message about what the dominant society thought it meant to be black. The recent backlash against affirmative action resurrects degrading stereotypes and sends old messages wrapped in new code words about racial identity. “English-only” laws and attempts to restrict public support for immigrants define targeted groups as “outsiders,” people who do not belong in America. The acceptance of anti-sodomy laws brands homosexuals as deviant And the slow, grudging history of legal recognition of sexual harassment, the defeat of the Equal Rights Amendment, and the persistence of the “reasonable man” standard effaces the distinctive experiences of women in society while subjecting all to measurement against a male norm.

By building upon Raz's analysis of the spectrum of voluntary obligations, the author produces a typology of agreements, and then assesses the extent to which these different kinds of agreements underpin the common law of contract. While recognizing that the law of contract purports to deal with a broad range of voluntarily undertaken obligations, the typology of agreements suggests that the present law is primarily suited to dealing only with bargains. This suggests that there are situations in which agreements should be legally recognized, but which should not be dealt with by all of the conceptual tools of contract law, for these agreements and voluntary undertakings serve the interests of those undertaking them in significantly different ways than do bargains.

Philosophers have long debated whether there is a morally significant difference between acting with the intention of bringing about some state of affairs and acting with the mere awareness that that state of affairs will occur as an unintended side effect of what one is trying to achieve. This controversy is mirrored in the criminal law in a number of places, most notably with respect to the question of whether the mens rea for the crime of murder should require the intent to cause death or only the knowledge that it will occur. In this paper I propose what I believe is a satisfactory way of drawing the intended/foreseen distinction and then argue, contrary to what Duff and others have supposed, that such a distinction does not underwrite a difference in moral or legal culpability. I leave open the possibility, however, that there may be consequentialist reasons for sometimes imposing greater liability in the case of intended harms than in the case of those that are merely foreseen.