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The signing of the instrument popularly known as the ‘Anglo Irish Treaty’ in December 1921 paved the way for the creation of the Irish Free State in December 1922. The draft constitution of the Irish Free State, created in Dublin in early 1922, was taken to London for a confidential preview in May of that year. The British government insisted that the draft constitution had effectively ignored the provisions of the 1921 Treaty and demanded major revisions. For a brief period, the collapse of the entire settlement agreed in 1921 appeared to be a real possibility. This disaster was only averted when both sides agreed to redraft substantial portions of the draft constitution in early June 1922. This chapter examines the negotiating strategies developed in Dublin and London before and during the radical redrafting of the future constitution of the Irish Free State.
There is growing awareness of the role that multinational corporations (MNCs) play in contributing to modern slavery down their supply chains (8.7 Alliance, 2023). According to Global Estimates of Modern Slavery, published by the International Labour Organization (ILO), in 2021 there were 27.6 million people trapped in situations of forced labour around the world, with 17.3 million individuals being exploited in the private sector (ILO, 2022). Sectoral analysis of this finding suggests that a third of exploited workers are employed in export-related sectors and are, presumably, part of global value chains (GVCs) (ILO, 2022). The increasing realization, in the last decade or so, that MNCs’ profits are linked to modern slavery has driven workers, their representatives, global and local activists, consumer organizations, and unions, as well as legislators and policymakers at various levels (local, national, regional, and international), to seek innovative and effective ways to hold MNCs accountable and assign them responsibility (LeBaron, 2020; ITUC, 2020; Trautrims et al., 2021).
This trend suggests a shift in policy responses to modern slavery. Since the adoption of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) Trafficking Protocol in 2000,1 there has been a predominant view that human trafficking and modern slavery primarily result from the operation of organized crime (H. Shamir, 2012). The expansion of the anti-trafficking and modern slavery policy response towards addressing the role of mainstream business entities, and particularly MNCs, raises multiple complex questions for scholars, policymakers, and activists. These relate to the exact role of MNCs in modern slavery and the practices they adopt, and MNC and supplier compliance (Han et al., 2022); the causes and drivers of modern slavery; the reality of work on the factory floor (and wherever work takes place); and effective policy solutions to change corporate patterns of purchasing, supply chain management, and engagement with suppliers, as well as with workers and their communities.
This chapter traces the history of the UK Human Rights Act 1998, from its inspiration in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, through the adoption of the European Convention on Human Rights in 1950, the cases lost by the United Kingdom after the acceptance of the individual right to petition the European Court of Human Rights in 1966, the movement to ‘bring rights home’ which culminated in the 1998 Act, the attacks on the Act by media and politicians, and the ill-fated Bill of Rights Bill to replace it, culminating in 2023 with the insidious disapplication of the Act in the particular context of migration and asylum and a new willingness of the government to promote legislation which is incompatible with the Convention rights, coupled with renewed calls in some quarters for the United Kingdom to withdraw from the Convention.
The Statute of Uses enacted radical reform which can still be felt across the common law world. It was from exceptions to the statute’s execution of uses to perform last wills that the modern trust emerged. Our understanding of the passage of the statute has been shaped by the survival of several draft bills and ancillary documents. It has been argued that a draft bill introduced in 1529 was rejected by the Commons in March 1532. This in turn inspired the landmark litigation in Dacre’s Case (1533–35), which paved the way for the subsequent enactment of the Statute of Uses. This chapter challenges that orthodox position by demonstrating that there were in fact three early drafts which were considered. It then considers what this tells us about the role of the crown, parliament and the courts during this pivotal period in our legal history.
This chapter explores the roles of different generations of lawyers in Estonia’s post-1991 democratic transformation. Focused on young, progressive lawyers familiar with Western legal culture and established leaders educated under the Soviet regime, the study draws on extensive interviews and document analysis to trace how these actors shaped the nation’s transition from Soviet legal structures to a contemporary democratic framework. The findings highlight the critical importance of individual efforts in redefining legal practices, emphasising the dual impact of innovative youth and experienced mentors in driving significant legal and institutional reforms. The study enhances understanding of the dynamics of legal transitions in post-Soviet states, highlighting the essential blend of innovation and experience necessary for successful legal reform.
In 1636, a set of nine paintings was installed on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall in Whitehall Palace. Three central and six side panels. The set had arrived from the studio of Peter Paul Rubens in Antwerp, and had been commissioned by King Charles I in honour of his father James. They were intended to summate three aspirations which defined James’s reign. The three central panels were entitled The Apotheosis of King James, The Peaceful Reign of King James, and The Union of Crowns. Each spoke to a matter of constitutional urgency, then and now; respectively, the nature of monarchy, relations with the rest of Europe, and the possibility of forging a union between England and Scotland. The purpose of this chapter is to revisit the reign of King James I and see if we can spot some resonances.
This chapter deals with child labour in value chains, whether global value chains (GVCs) or domestic value chains (DVCs). This chapter goes beyond the usual question of the regulation of child labour in value chains to consider the conditions necessary for the elimination of child labour. This chapter is the product of many years of research on this topic by the two authors, sometimes jointly and at times along with other researchers. The empirical base of the analysis in this chapter comprises the various studies carried out by the authors, jointly or separately, of child labour in the garment GVCs in Delhi (Bhaskaran et al., 2010); in the global and DVCs of handicrafts in Jaipur, matches in Sivakasi, stone quarries in Rajasthan, brick kilns in Malda, West Bengal, knitwear and fireworks in Tirupur, Tamil Nadu (Nathan and George, 2012); cotton production in Punjab and Haryana (IHD and Save the Children, 2014); and of gems, lac bangles, and embroidered garments in Jaipur (The Freedom Fund, 2018). One of the authors (Varsha Joshi) led the Child Helpline, which is the key agency in the identification and rescue of child labour in Jaipur, so we were able to use the insights gathered in the course of her work in rescuing child labourers. While the data leading to the chapter's analysis are mainly from Indian cases, the analysis itself is applicable to other, developing countries in the Global South where child labour still exists in serious dimensions. The chapter's policy prescription of combining higher adult earnings at the base of the labour force pyramid with compulsory and quality education is relevant to all developing countries of the Global South.
After this introduction, the next section deals with types of child labour and the implications for different types of interventions. This is followed by a summary of the different types of interventions of both public and private regulation that have been undertaken to eliminate child labour in value chains, both global and domestic. The elimination of child labour involves a change in the business strategy of both the lead firm or principal employer and the supplier.
This chapter provides an account of the Public Records Office of Ireland as a legal repository, before its destruction in 1922 as an early ‘casualty’ of the Irish Civil War. The chapter supplies a succinct account of Ireland’s historic courts and their record-keeping, providing an overview of the legal contents of the Public Record Office of Ireland at the moment of its destruction. Using several case studies, the chapter then illustrates the process of archival reconstruction through the use of substitute and replacement sources, spanning the late medieval period up to the end of the nineteenth century. It argues that attempting to reconstruct these lost legal archives constitutes a powerful method of historical reappraisal, revealing how many of Ireland’s historic courts were created, evolved and disappeared.
Chapter 3 examines the history of the clean energy regime complex, which sets the stage to delve into questions of its effectiveness in later chapters. This chapter traces the role played by states, multilateral and bilateral organizations, transnational initiatives, and norm diffusion in driving regime complex emergence over the three periods of analysis (Period 1: 1980–2001, Period 2: 2002–2008, Period 3: 2009–2023). The chapter demonstrates that diverging state interests alone do not explain the regime complex’s emergence, but that organizational expansion, transnational actor agency, normative change, and institutional interplay all contribute to its formation.
Global value chains (GVCs) are a manifestation of the contemporary global political economy. Viewing them solely as economic constructs, however, obscures the role that law and the wider regulatory environment play in their development and facilitation. The issue of modern slavery within GVCs has been the subject of careful scrutiny from a variety of legal sub-disciplines, including labour, welfare, and immigration law. In this chapter, I examine the role of company law, and particularly the fiduciary duty of directors to act in the interests of the company, in creating conditions under which modern slavery flourishes in GVCs. I suggest that the ideology of shareholder primacy that helps shape board decision-making is flawed both normatively and as a matter of legal doctrine. The central argument advanced is that shareholders’ interests are typically treated as a proxy for a company's interests due to the ambiguity in defining what it means to act in the interests of the company as a legal construct. Yet this focus on prioritizing the interests of shareholders can motivate lead companies’ directors to make decisions that deliver investor returns at the expense of fundamental labour rights and human dignity. The chapter concludes by exploring the potential of incorporating principles of proportionality into board decision-making. It is suggested that this approach can enhance directors’ knowledge and awareness of balancing competing interests, thereby avoiding the most egregious abuses of corporate power in the pursuit of profit.
Introduction
Writing in 2016, the IGLP Law and Global Production Working Group (the IGLP Working Group) observed that residing ‘at the heart of the GVC phenomenon’, law serves as ‘the vehicle through which value is generated, captured, and distributed within and between organizational and jurisdictional domains, and diverse and geographically disparate business operations are coordinated and governed’ (IGLP, 2016: 61). Law and the wider regulatory environment, comprising a complex mix of national, transnational, hard law, and soft law norms, are concerned with GVCs in numerous ways that influence the organization of GVCs. Company law is typically considered to be implicated in GVCs insofar as it shapes the structuring of activities within a chain and the liability (or lack thereof) of investors.
Throughout the eighteenth century, hundreds of borough officers – mayors, aldermen, burgesses – were prosecuted in the Court of King’s Bench by quo warranto. The purpose of the process was political: to remove these officers from the parliamentary electoral register. The Municipal Offices Act 1711 provided a legislative foundation for the remedy, and secured it against the objection that it was interference with the exclusive right of the House of Commons to determine the eligibility of electors. While the 1711 Act provided litigants with a judicial alternative to petitioning the partisan Committee on Elections, there were abuses. Litigation was sometimes secretly funded by the government, borough officers were intimidated into disclaiming their office by fear of unsupportable costs, and officers who, for years, had innocently assumed that their titles were secure, were ejected for concealed historic defects. An effort to rebalance the process in favour of the interests of borough officers was made by Charles James Fox’s Quo Warranto Act 1792.
In 1921 representatives of the United Kingdom and of the revolutionary Sinn Féin administration in Ireland signed a conditional agreement that subsequently became a treaty establishing the Irish Free State. Lawyers played an important role on each side, none more so than F. E. Smith (Lord Birkenhead), the then UK Cabinet Secretary. Thomas Jones observed caustically that ‘it is notorious that a lawyer cannot draft his own will clearly’. As regards the ambit of a Boundary Commission proposed by Article 12 to redraw the border created in Ireland in 1920 by the United Kingdom, Irish leaders Arthur Griffith and Michael Collins ultimately relied on British goodwill. Birkenhead depended on his knowledge of legal precedent and the Privy Council. This chapter considers the professional status of lawyers on each side and suggests that a certain ambiguity in the agreement enabled a settlement more readily than any insistence on absolute clarity would have.