Chapter 7 considers how language change over short timespans can be examined using corpus-assisted methods. We present three case studies. The first study involves a corpus of patient feedback relating to cancer care, collected for four consecutive years. A technique called the coefficient of variation was used to identify lexical items that had increased or decreased over time. The second study considered UK newspaper articles about obesity. To examine changing themes over time, we employed a combination of keyness and concordance analyses to identify which themes in the corpus were becoming more or less popular over time. Additionally, the analysis considered time in a different way, by using the concept of the annual news cycle. To this end, the corpus was divided into 12 parts, consisting of articles published according to a particular month, and the same type of analysis was applied to each part. The third case study involves an analysis of a corpus of forum posts about anxiety. Time was considered in terms of the age of the poster and in terms of the number of contributions that a poster had made to the forum, and differences were found depending on both approaches to time.

The volume’s Introduction is divided into four parts. It begins by setting out the analytical framework animating this volume, namely “juristocratic reckoning," which builds on, yet critically modifies and reappropriates, Ran Hirschl’s (2004) notion of “juristocracy” in order to capture a broader process of transformation through which law and legal categories are invested with unusual weight and responsibility beyond their more conventional carrying capacity. Such over-freighting of law typically involves a “dialectics of reckoning,” through which law is first elevated during certain moments in time, which then give way to a second phase, a coming to terms with juristocracy’s failures marked by critique, skepticism, and eventual disenchantment. Within this larger dynamic, certain histories of juristocratic reckoning are imbued with what the Introduction describes as an “iconic indexicality,” in which their supposed historical significance itself enters into the process of juristocratic elevation and then unraveling. Against the backdrop of this conceptual exposition, the Introduction situates Reckoning with Law in Excess in the current conjuncture – an era of crisis and confrontation, characterized by growing debates, within academia and beyond, about the demise of the rule of law. Having located the overall analytical project within different historical, political, and academic contexts, the Introduction then traces the contours of juristocratic reckoning through the diverse and global range of case studies assembled in the volume, including some that are marked by an iconic indexicality and others that are not. It proposes three “taxonomies of reckoning,” which coalesce around concerns with “states of juristocracy,” “alter-legal reckonings,” as well as “juristocracies against the state,” attesting to the persisting centrality – if always contested, variable, and fragmented – of the state form. Last but not least, the Introduction examines the temporality of juristocracy, since viewing the case studies through their various temporalities reinforces the wider point that dialectics of reckoning must be understood through their empirical and historical heterogeneities rather than as exemplars of an abstracted sociolegal category. Revisiting the various case studies, the Introduction shows how the dialectics of juristocratic reckoning are associated with moments, momentums, and mobilizations in the living archives of law that often yield inconclusive or ambiguous results and remain open to multiple interpretations, directions, and futures.

As Chapter 1 discusses, one of the most consistent conservative critiques of social media platforms is that social media is biased against conservative content. A common policy proposal to address this is to regulate such platforms as common carriers. Doing so would require social media platforms to host, on a nondiscriminatory basis, all legal user content and to permit all users to access platforms on equal terms. While this seems an attractive idea – after all, who could object to nondiscrimination – it is not. For one thing, the Supreme Court has now recognized that social media platforms possess "editorial rights" under the First Amendment to control what content they carry, block, and emphasize in their feeds. So, regulating platforms as common carriers, as Texas and Florida have sought to do, is unconstitutional. It is also a terrible idea. Requiring platforms to carry all content on a nondiscriminatory basis, even if limited to legal content (which it would be hard to do) would flood user feeds with such lawful-but-awful content as pornography, hate speech, and terrorist propaganda. This in turn would destroy social media as a usable medium, to the detriment of everyone.

During the paradigmatic moment in the 1990s that Hirschl refers to as “juristocracy,” the global institutionalization of neoliberalism effectively untethered economic control from nation-states. States’ capacity to regulate economic flows diminished, as did their ability to fulfill many of the entitlements that were then aspirationally included in progressive constitutions. Peasants, small-scale food producers, and rural workers felt the effects of neoliberalism especially hard as global trade agreements and structural adjustment policies dismantled state support and made them vulnerable to global competition. With states constrained by binding global rules, these groups were forced to rethink existing grammars of social justice. Rather than simply claiming rights, they therefore devised new claims and repertoires of mobilization in the attempt to subordinate global capital flows to popular control. Through the claim of food sovereignty, rural communities formed transnational movements that today mobilize at sub- and supra-national levels with the goal of building decentralized, democratic, and sustainable food systems. This chapter describes how transnational food sovereignty movements have reconceptualized rights around the networked form of transnational governance. Drawing on ethnographic fieldwork in the UN Committee on World Food Security (CFS), one of the key arenas of global food governance, it illustrates how food sovereignty movements creatively mobilize the right to food to institutionalize their own symbols and practices of representation. In doing so, the chapter argues that food sovereignty movements have rearticulated the right to food as a “representative claim” through which they seek to democratize transnational governance.

The late twentieth-century recognition of indigenous peoples as collective subjects of human rights represents a case of “iconic indexicality,” as international human rights instruments held out promises of recognizing difference, repairing colonial harms, and reckoning with the slow violence of genocide. During the first decades of the twenty-first century, indigenous peoples in Guatemala mobilized human rights through legal actions to defend their ancestral territories and ways of being, mirroring similar processes occurring across Latin America. Yet at the same time the intensification of extractive industries deepened processes of capture of state apparatus by corrupt elites and criminal networks, leading to backlash and the stalling or reversal of earlier legal victories. Today indigenous communities and their allies are subject to systematic criminalization and renewed processes of legalized violent dispossession. This chapter argues that the current “juristocratic reckoning” with the promise of indigenous rights must be viewed in the longue durée. Indigenous people have engaged with hegemonic forms of law since conquest, and although these engagements acquired new dimensions and intensity during the twentieth century’s “age of human rights” (Goodale 2022), they were accompanied by a keen awareness of the historical role of law in old and new forms of colonial violence and dispossession. This is because colonial legal orderings of land and territorial resources are always racially constituted. As Nichols (2020), Di Giminiani (2018) and others have shown, the laws of the colonizers remade indigenous worlds by constituting land as an alienable object (“property”), displacing alternative “land ontologies” to justify racialized inequalities grounded in systemic violence. The late twentieth-century turn to law by indigenous peoples never supplanted other horizons of justice premised on alternative lifeworlds; indeed, the juristocratic shift and its centering of “self-determination” served to amplify claims and histories conceived prior to and beyond human rights law. As this chapter shows, through processes of judicialization indigenous lawyers’ collectives in Guatemala have meticulously documented long-run theft of indigenous lands and appealed to less individually centered and proprietary understandings of land to stake decolonial claims to self-determination. Various mechanisms have been deployed; for example, special expert witness reports or different forms of indigenous self-representation in court to amplify alternative ontologies within the public sphere. This strategic, discursive, and affective engagement with the law is just one part of ongoing processes to strengthen autonomous self-governance.

Despite Chile’s recent failed attempts at constitutional reform, Indigenous land rights are (still) governed by the much-contested Indigenous Law of 1993 (Law No. 19,253). The land restitution program foreseen in this law is extremely slow and controversial, and the establishment of Indigenous territories (by ordinary law) appears far from reality. At the same time, there are a few recognized Indigenous territories in Chile, and they are constantly faced with a high density of hydro-electric plants, extractivist activities, disproportionate forest and logging exploitation, salmon farming and a growing tourism industry. Over the years, Indigenous Peoples have reacted in different ways to dispossession and encroachment. Driven by frustration, some have assertively occupied their ancestral lands. Others have filed lawsuits and found a more equitable venue to claim their rights in the national courts. Against this background, this chapter analyzes the processes of dispossession faced by Indigenous Peoples in relation to their traditional lands in the north and south of Chile over recent decades, how they contested the titles to ownership and possession of such territories, and the outcomes of their litigation strategies. After the public rejections of constitutional reforms in 2022 and 2023, it remains uncertain how Indigenous land rights will be governed in the coming years or how they will be treated in any potential reforms to Pinochet’s Constitution of 1980. Despite the unfavorable legislative framework, this chapter argues that Indigenous strategic litigation can best advance and support land rights in Chile.

Despite a recent law recognizing and protecting the rights of Indigenous Peoples, the post-independence laws of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) have dispossessed, and continue to dispossess, Indigenous Peoples of their customary land rights. Collective and customary property rights are enshrined in the DRC Constitution; however, in practice there is little to no recognition or protection. This is because land statutes work in cross-cutting ways to deny Indigenous Peoples the formal legal title to their traditional lands, and without title they are vulnerable to dispossession by development or conservation. In the absence of a land tenure system establishing clear collective ownership rights, “community forests” represent an alternative strategy or pathway for Indigenous Peoples to secure their customary rights over their forests and their lands (the local communities’ forest concessions, CFCLs). Despite some successful cases of securing land tenure through the CFCLs, inaccessible legal requirements and difficult procedures make these a problematic pathway for land justice. This chapter sets out recommendations for strengthening land tenure and CFCLs.

Since independence in 1966, the Republic of Botswana in southern Africa has had a long history of democratic elections. Botswana also has one of the highest populations of San peoples in the region, who have faced discrimination and marginalization for centuries. The San, who consider themselves to be Indigenous Peoples, are not accepted as such by Botswana’s government, which holds that all its citizens are Indigenous. San, who number some 60,000 in Botswana, have faced severe difficulties in getting access to land and natural resources. This chapter describes some of the processes of dispossession that San have faced. While some lands have been set aside as remote area settlements, these areas are not solely for San people. Communal land in the country is alienable, and there are no legal guarantees to land for San and other minorities. The expansion of the livestock, agriculture, tourism and mining industries have also had impacts on San people and their neighbors. San have responded to these situations by organizing non-government organizations (NGOs), lobbying for their rights nationally and internationally, and going to the High Court with legal cases, some of which have been successful. The legal cases involving the Central Kalahari San, in particular, have set international precedents – for example, to the human right to water – which have global relevance. However, the government has not honored many of the High Court judgments, leaving the San in a position where their land and resource rights are still precarious.