While Sancho discussed slavery in his letters decades before British opposition to that institution coalesced and became institutionally codified, he undeniably took a firmly anti-slavery and anti-racist stance in his manuscript correspondence. He used his familiar letters to critique and oppose slavery as a practice and an institution as well as to reject and undermine the validity of emerging concepts of “race” in an effort to oppose their effects in the world. Three core strategies emerge: first, satirizing and critiquing the metaphorical mapping of moral character onto skin color in the service of white supremacy; second, reappropriating and resignifying animal metaphors and racial tropes to undermine their efficacy in subjugating humans and non-humans alike within a slaving society; and third, recovering self-determination and agency for Black subjects by asserting ownership over his own body through the manual labor of writing.

Chapter 20 explores the role of the League of Nations frameworks in the internationalization of human rights, with a focus on refugees, stateless individuals, and minorities. The League Covenant did not explicitly address human rights, but it did consider some humanitarian issues, such as the rights of populations in Mandated territories, stateless refugees, and minorities in specific regions like Danzig or Upper Silesia. Despite this, human rights were not a significant factor in shaping international law during the interwar period. Jurists, who were mostly male and aligned with national interests, favoured other issues like state sovereignty, international peace, and collective security. However, in 1929, the Institute of International Law (IIL) adopted a ’Declaration of International Rights of Man’, based on a project by the exiled Russian jurist André N. Mandelstam, that integrated gender equality. The aim was to submit it to the General Assembly of the League in 1933 in order to conclude a ’World Convention on human rights’. These efforts aimed to universalize human rights at a time dominated by colonialism, civilizational discourse, and inequality. The chapter delves into these initiatives within the IIL and their attempts to push for broader human rights legislation in the League of Nations.

This chapter explains why oil companies recently started to embrace citizen mobilization after a long history of avoiding such outreach. It shows that while the coalescing climate movement and the availability of new online tools for organizing have played important roles in this shift, the proliferation of new government forums for citizen input in the regulation of fossil fuel projects has been the core driver of the industry’s new approach.

In this chapter I extend the analysis of the previous chapter to defense against innocent threats. Once again, the norm against intending death applies, but the standards for permissible killing as a side effect are stricter than in the case of unjust threats.

Ignatius Sancho described his Letters as the product of an “African sensibility.” This chapter explores what he meant by this, locating the term “sensibility,” and its cognate “sentiment,” in the context of Scottish Enlightenment science of man (David Hume, Lord Kames, Adam Smith). Through close reading, it examines how Sancho, as a sentimental epistolary writer, used his sensibility to affirm his humanity, reinforce friendships, and make political observation. Sancho’s sentimental epistolary practice, shaped by his correspondence with Laurence Sterne in 1766, was notable for his use of the dash to punctuate his writing. The chapter argues that although both writers use the dash for rhetorical effect, Sancho’s “dashing style” is distinct from Sterne’s punctuational practice. The chapter argues also that Sancho’s mode of sensibility was important in his assessment as a sentimental man of letters in the debate on African arts and letters in the 1770s and early 1780s.

This chapter introduces the EU AI Act and examines how it will apply to artificial intelligence (AI) used by judicial authorities. The chapter gives an overview of key regulatory concepts of the EU AI Act and discusses its risk classification, particularly which AI systems used by judicial authorities would fall under the category of high- risk AI systems and which other provisions could be relevant for the use of AI by judicial authorities. The chapter investigates practical examples of how the provisions are expected to apply in practice and which obligations follow for judicial authorities, including which exemptions could apply. The author also provides context and rationale for the relevant provisions and their evolution during the legislative process.

In this chapter I argue that the norm against intentional killing is a moral absolute, identifying an action never to be done. On this ground, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and other allied bombings in World War II, are shown to have been morally unjustified.

This chapter discusses the integration of AI into the judicial systems of Lithuania and Poland. It provides a historical context, outlining the progress of both countries in digitalisation and AI readiness. The chapter notes relevant political and planning documents and then focuses on the current state of AI in non-judicial and judicial activities within the courts of Lithuania and Poland. The authors present technological solutions used for case assignment, case handling, and document processing, anonymisation of judgments, voice-to-text transcription, and tools developed for automating press release preparation. The chapter then explores the potential for AI in judicial decision-making, considering the prospects for partial and full judicial automation and identifying scenarios where AI could play a more significant role without compromising the quality of judicial outcomes. It highlights the Polish pilot project ‘Digital Judge’s Assistant’, and discusses the stringent regulations under the EU AI Act 2024 and the GDPR that govern the use of AI in judicial processes.

Chapter 17 explores the implication of the failure to establish a proper legal sovereign in the Mandates under Article 22 of the Covenant of the League of Nations. The tension was never resolved between the Mandatory power exercising the attributes of sovereignty and actually possessing it, notably on the all-important issue of maintaining ‘public order’. Repression as interpreted politically through the Permanent Mandates Commission (PMC) thus shaped Mandatory rule. Three examples show dialogue between the PMC and the Mandatory powers articulated sovereignty as a system of legal practice. The repression of the Bondelswarts rebellion of 1922 and the Great Syrian Revolt of 1925–27 muddled the distinction between Class C and Class A Mandates. The repression of the Arab revolt in Palestine of 1936–38 exemplified legalist tensions within the Mandate system that had been there all along. Neither the PMC nor the Mandatory power (Britain) could either construct sovereignty over a unitary Palestine or partition it. As Europe veered towards war in 1939 and as the League itself started to disintegrate, ‘public order’ in Palestine came to exist for its own sake, disconnected from any resolution of the political stalemate.

This chapter examines the adoption of artificial intelligence (AI) tools and digital solutions within the Estonian justice system, highlighting its pioneering approach to digital transformation following independence in 1991. The initial section explores the factors behind Estonia’s rapid digital transition, emphasising the centralisation of support services and the development of a unified public-sector digital infrastructure that has significantly influenced court operations. The Estonian judiciary employs integrated information and communications technology systems that utilise shared data storage, enabling efficient digital and remote court proceedings. These advantages were particularly evident during the Covid-19 pandemic. While AI and machine-driven decisions are restricted to support functions, excluding substantive judicial roles (no ‘robo-judges’), efforts are ongoing to enhance data-driven practices and automation in court proceedings. However, a key legal challenge lies in aligning digital court processes with the constitutional mandate for public justice.

This chapter examines the notion of racialised languaging, which emphasises that languaging practices are never assessed independently of the bodies, identities, and social positions of their speakers. It demonstrates how language is evaluated not only in terms of what is said but also through the racialised perceptions of who is speaking and how society chooses to listen. The chapter argues that accents, dialects, and speech patterns associated with racialised communities are often constructed as inferior, humorous, deficient, or even criminal, while similar features in white speakers are normalized or excused. By centring languaging as a site of racial meaning-making, the chapter exposes the ways in which communication is entangled with race, racism, and embodied identities. Racialised languaging is further situated within the broader colonial matrix of power, where Western linguistic norms and white racial identities are privileged over non-Western languages and non-White speakers.

This scholarly exploration examines the Islamic perspective on environmental stewardship, climate change, and ethical resource management through the lens of Shariah (Islamic Sacred Law). Grounded in the principles of Tawhid (divine unity), the article argues that Muslims have a fundamental religious obligation to protect the Earth and its resources as trustees or "Khalifa" (guardians). The text analyzes how Islamic ethical principles, particularly the Maqasid Shariah (higher objectives of sacred law), directly relate to contemporary environmental challenges, especially global warming and fossil fuel consumption.

The author emphasizes that the Islamic worldview inherently promotes ecological consciousness, viewing humans as stewards responsible for just and compassionate management of natural resources. By referencing Quranic injunctions and Prophetic traditions, the article advocates for fossil fuel divestment, renewable energy adoption, and sustainable development. It presents a compelling case that environmental protection is not merely a scientific or political imperative, but a profound spiritual and moral responsibility deeply rooted in Islamic teachings of mercy, justice, and interconnectedness.