There are many facets to the historical context of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander education in Australia, from the ways in which knowledge was transferred prior to invasion through to the deliberate withholding of information from all Australians. When we refer to Indigenous education in Australia, we must remember that this is both for and about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. This chapter therefore discusses the historical context of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander education, beginning with how knowledge was transferred prior to invasion. Several ‘case studies’ – early evidence of First Nations children’s academic capabilities immediately following invasion – are cited in terms of the ‘grand experiment’, followed by reference to the inclusion/exclusion of Aboriginal children using the oft-quoted phrase ‘clean, clad and courteous’. The chapter then moves past the infamous exclusion of Aboriginal children to the formation of the National Aboriginal Education Committee, which so heavily influenced a change in the political landscape, to involvement in curriculum development, and discusses some of the strategies, plans and policies that have been put in place.

Chapter 2 presents the theoretical framework and the research design of the study. It examines how political parties’ programmatic commitment shapes the expansion and quality of healthcare reforms in post-neoliberal Latin America. While democracy, ideology, and electoral competition explain why reforms are initiated, the chapter argues that the key to understanding reform outcomes lies in whether parties possess programmatic commitment – that is, if their core ideological values are directly tied to healthcare. Where party values align with healthcare expansion, parties actively shape, support, and implement reforms (a programmatic path), leading to higher-quality, sustainable outcomes with clear funding and infrastructure plans. In contrast, when parties lack such commitment, technocrats without partisan ties drive the policymaking process (a technocratic path), resulting in reforms that may expand formal coverage but often lack robust political support, funding stability, and effective implementation. The chapter also details the research design, describing the operationalization of the dependent and independent variables, the process-tracing approach used to collect evidence, and the logic of the case selection. Data collection combined extensive interviews and archival research. Ultimately, the chapter highlights the need to analyze policy engagement at each stage of the process.

This chapter provides a summary of the book’s main findings, followed by a discussion of its theoretical and practical implications. It concludes that political parties’ programmatic commitments are crucial to the success and quality of healthcare reforms in Latin America. When parties have core values directly linked to healthcare, they actively shape reforms, ensuring sustainable funding, robust infrastructure, and better implementation – as demonstrated by Chile’s AUGE reform. In contrast, when political parties lack strong core values or have no programmatic commitment, technocrats lead reforms, as seen in Mexico and Peru, resulting in policies with unstable funding and less effective access to care. The chapter stresses that being a programmatic party alone is not sufficient; what matters is whether a party’s core values align with the policy issue at hand. The chapter also highlights potential paths for future research in healthcare and other social policies, arguing that the involvement, values, and commitment of political parties are crucial for sustainable policy design and implementation. Ultimately, strong party commitment leads to more successful and lasting reforms, while weakly committed or absent parties result in less effective policies.

This chapter highlights the relevance of studying healthcare reform in Latin America’s new democracies. It identifies the empirical puzzle of this study and the gaps in the literature that it seeks to fill. It examines why healthcare reform outcomes vary so significantly across Latin American democracies. While many countries in the region have pursued policies to expand access and address healthcare inequality, the quality and sustainability of these reforms vary. The chapter then introduces the novel argument about political parties’ programmatic commitment and policymaking. It provides key findings from a comparative analysis of reforms in Chile, Mexico, and Peru, explaining that reforms are most successful when parties’ core values align directly with the policy, leading to greater engagement during policymaking and implementation. In settings where parties lack programmatic commitment, technocrats or external actors often dominate the process, resulting in reforms that may expand formal coverage but lack sustainable funding, infrastructure development, and effective access. The chapter thus emphasizes that it is not simply the presence of strong or programmatic parties, but their programmatic commitment to the policy area, that predicts the quality and feasibility of social policy reform, with broader implications for democratizing societies and policymakers globally.

Chapter 9 examines how international public policy affects climate-related investment risks. It focuses on two key mechanisms: international climate agreements (ICAs), such as the Kyoto Protocol and the Paris Agreement, and climate-oriented foreign aid. The chapter analyzes how participation in ICAs and the receipt of climate aid influence investor behavior, asking whether these forms of international engagement moderate the negative relationship between climate risk and foreign direct investment observed in earlier chapters. Empirical findings indicate that both ICA membership and climate aid inflows significantly reassure foreign investors by signaling host countries’ access to resources and their commitment to managing climate vulnerabilities. The chapter also highlights several limitations of ICAs and climate aid before offering suggestions to improve their effectiveness.

Under the doctrine of privity, a contract confers neither rights nor obligations on any persons other than the parties to the contract. Thus, ordinarily, a stranger can neither sue to enforce a contract nor can contracting parties enforce obligations against a stranger. Where a contract provides for a benefit to a third party, a contracting party may no doubt sue to secure that benefit for the third party, but the standing of the third party to maintain an action directly is governed by the doctrine of privity. This chapter explores the extent to which the English law doctrine of privity applies in India, and the recognised exceptions to this doctrine.

THE GENERAL RULE: THIRD-PARTY BENEFICIARIES LACK STANDING

The English law doctrine that a stranger to the contract cannot sustain an action on the promise made between two persons is set out in Tweddle v. Atkinson. The extent to which this doctrine applied under Indian law created a divergence of opinion between different High Courts. A case came before the Madras High Court where A had agreed to sell a property to B, stipulating that B would pay off C who was A's creditor. The question arose whether C could sue to enforce that stipulation. In Tirumulu Subbu Chetti v. Arunachalam Chettiar the Madras High Court extensively surveyed the case law, and concluded that ‘the balance of authority is in favour of the view that a stranger to a contract cannot without more sue to enforce it’.

An agreement that is not supported by consideration will not be enforceable as a contract. The requirement that agreements be supported by consideration effectively removes gratuitous promises from the scope of the law of contract. In broad terms, it serves to mark out typical commercial transactions in a market economy from other types of transactions where the law will leave people free to break their promises.

Scholars have questioned the rationale for the requirement of consideration, and, at one time, the Law Commission asked whether the doctrine should be abolished. The Law Commission eventually concluded that the doctrine was ‘firmly rooted’ in the Indian law of contract and should be retained. The doctrine serves a paternalistic function in that it allows persons who have made extremely generous promises to change their minds. It also serves to focus scarce judicial resources on the task of facilitating commerce (as opposed to the arguably less significant task of detecting, and giving effect to, gratuitous promises made in non-commercial settings).

In the remainder of this chapter, we examine (a) the definition of consideration in the Contract Act, (b) the requirement that consideration must be bargained for, (c) the question of who can give and receive consideration, (d) the requirement that consideration must be of value, (e) how consideration operates in the context of preexisting duties, (f) the complex question of whether consideration is required in the context of variations to contracts and (g) the exceptions from the consideration requirement provided for in the Contract Act.

The Indian law of contract dates back to late nineteenth-century legal codification efforts by British colonial administrators. Those codification efforts were largely based on the (uncodified) English law of contract as it stood at that time, with some borrowing from the Field Code which sought to codify contract law in New York. Contemporary Indian contract law is a complex blend of these colonial codes, further amendments and, crucially, a vast body of case law developed by the Indian courts which takes into account the Indian commercial and social context.

The colonial origins of Indian contract law imply that an understanding of the current or historical English law position can can be of some assistance when applying the key statutes. The extent to which reliance on English law is actually of assistance in any given case is a more controversial issue, and one which we address in greater detail below. In this regard, it is important to appreciate that the codification of Indian contract law involved certain deliberate departures from the then-prevailing English law of contract. For example, the rules relating to penalties in Section 74 of the Indian Contract Act, 1872 (the Contract Act) and the definition of consideration in Section 2(d) of the Contract Act reflect material deviations from comparable English law rules.

During the colonial period, the various Presidency and Provincial High Courts of British India generated a large body of judicial decisions on points of contract law. The Privy Council, sitting in London, was the final judicial authority during that period. It is noteworthy that, after independence, the Supreme Court has almost invariably chosen to follow the pre-independence judgments of the Privy Council regarding the Contract Act. More generally, the shifts brought about by Indian independence did not result in a fundamental change in terms of how the courts approached the law of contract.

Indian contract law, a hybrid of common law and statute, is uniquely positioned among the legal systems of large economies. This book offers a detailed exploration of how Indian contract law has evolved to reconcile historical precedent with modern commercial challenges.

There are several reasons to applaud this contractual joint venture.

First, this book is more about concepts, analysis and the evolution of doctrine than a mere digest of the law or an aggregation of legal material. Each of the 22 chapters reflects an analytical approach and each chapter tries to identify the key doctrinal questions, and to answer them in as straightforward a manner as possible. There is no escapism, nor any obfuscation by language. Moreover, the book subjects the vast landscape of judicial precedent to rigorous critical analysis rather than indiscriminately citing every authority. It also maintains a constant vigil and a fine balance in determining when Indian law is similar to, or different from, English law. In effect, it encourages us to think critically about contract law and its future. I would go so far as to say that this book is not just a legal textbook; it is a contribution to the ongoing dialogue about how law and society interact.

Second, the book amazingly also performs the dual function of a very useful and very up-to-date compendium on the Indian law of contract, of great utility to practitioners, students, analysts, academics and laypersons alike. It does not masquerade in different colours for different consumers but combines a good, synergic offering to audiences of diverse needs, profiles and perspectives. That is partly because this contractual joint venture involves two active practitioners who, between them, have a deep insight into the nitty-gritty, operational realities of contract law as applied in both Indian and English courts.

The Melbourne Declaration on Educational Goals for Young Australians identified that a world class curriculum in the twenty-first century required more than learning areas alone. It also required the interweaving of other aspects such as fundamental skills and capabilities as well as being able to respond to critical educational issues and future needs. These requirements were met by the Australian Curriculum through its three-dimensional structure of Learning Areas, General Capabilities and the Cross-Curriculum Priorities. The Melbourne Declaration noted that to meet its commitment of ensuring that all Australians could become active and informed citizens, each learning area would require all students to have the opportunity to access First Nations Australian content where relevant. Additionally, the Declaration highlighted the need to improve educational outcomes for First Nations Australians to ensure that, as a nation, we achieve not only equality of opportunity but also more equitable outcomes. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Histories and Cultures Cross-Curriculum Priority provides a national opportunity to confront First Nations Australian educational disadvantage and break the cycle of non-First Nations Australians not knowing about or who this country’s diverse and vibrant First Nations peoples are.

Chapter 5 continues the overview through a different analytical lens. It investigates the EU’s toolbox, describing and classifying the regulatory tools used by the EU legislature across the different lifestyles. It identifies four main types of interventions: ban and composition requirements, tax and price measures, rules on advertising and promotion and rules on mandatory and voluntary information. Beyond this systematic description and classification, the chapter serves three aims. First, it confronts the regulatory tools used with the stated objectives of EU lifestyle policy, assessing their adequacy and suggesting possible reforms. Second, it highlights the significant regulatory disparities existing between lifestyle risk factors, critically evaluating the justifications for such differential treatment. Third, it shows how health and internal market objectives are intertwined in EU lifestyle policy, generating legal frictions.

Under the scheme of the Contract Act, any enquiry as to contract formation must begin with ‘offer’ and ‘acceptance’. This is because the Contract Act provides that for there to be a ‘contract’, there first needs to be an ‘agreement’. In turn, the definition of an ‘agreement’ in the Act presupposes the existence of a ‘promise’ (supported by consideration). And it is the ‘acceptance’ of an ‘offer’ (or ‘proposal’ to use the language of the Contract Act) that results in a ‘promise’. As such, ‘offer’ and ‘acceptance’ are the basic elements without which there cannot be a ‘contract’ under the Contract Act.

The Indian Contract Act addresses offer and acceptance in Sections 2(a), 2(b) as well as Sections 3 to 8. These provisions govern how offers and acceptances are to be communicated, how and when they may be revoked, acceptance by conduct and the critical requirement that in order for there to be a concluded contract, acceptance must be absolute and unqualified.

In practice, most commercial contracts are in writing and are signed by both parties. As such, there is limited scope for disputes about whether there has been acceptance of an offer in that context. Nevertheless, as the cases discussed in this chapter show, disputes about contract formation do arise. And when they arise, a clear understanding of the statutory scheme is required to determine whether a contract has been formed or not.

OFFER

The term ‘proposal’ (which is synonymous with ‘offer’) is defined in Section 2(a) of the Contract Act as follows: ‘[w]hen one person signifies to another his willingness to do or to abstain from doing anything, with a view to obtaining the assent of that other to such act or abstinence….’ In order to take effect, an offer must be communicated to the counterparty. Sections 3 and 4 of the Contract Act indicate that the communication of an offer is ‘complete when it comes to the knowledge of’ the counterparty.