In Romans 13:5, St. Paul famously announced that Christians must obey law not only for fear of punishment, but also “for conscience sake.” Early modern Protestants and Catholics agreed that violations of laws that bound conscience, if unrepented, threatened damnation. But not all law obligated conscience. Natural law typically did. So did Jesus's injunctions and God's moral law revealed in the Old Testament, but not His judicial law governing civic affairs or His ceremonial law regulating Jewish religious observance. Human laws about things indifferent, matters neither commanded nor forbidden in scripture and nature, presented the most complicated case. Disobedience to only certain classes of human laws—but not all—imperiled the soul. Catholics and Protestants fiercely debated how to distinguish rulers’ ordinances that bound conscience from those that did not. This article explores the principles that animated the dispute and the methods used for linking human law to the fate of the soul or challenging that connection.

In 1999, Chile became the last country in Latin America to grant full equality to all children regardless of the marital status of their parents. The Law of Filiation (Ley de Filiación) declared all children's right to know their origins, receive support from their progenitors, and participate equally in inheritance. Both supporters and critics hailed the law as transcendental, one of the most significant reforms to civil law since the promulgation of the Chilean Civil Code in 1855. On the day the law took effect, President Eduardo Frei was on hand at a civil registry office to greet the first parents arriving to solicit birth certificates, which no longer specified their children's natal status. He gave them a native quillay sapling, symbol of life and growth, adorned with a ribbon declaring, “Bienvenida, igualdad (Welcome, equality).” In succeeding months approximately 2,000,000 citizens, in a country of 15,000,000, would petition the offices of the civil registry for the new, nondiscriminatory birth certificates. One congresswoman hailed the bureaucratic flood as a “vindication of human dignity.”

The experience machine was traditionally thought to refute hedonism about welfare. In recent years, however, the tide has turned: many philosophers have argued not merely that the experience machine doesn't rule out hedonism, but that it doesn't count against it at all. I argue for a moderate position between those two extremes: although the experience machine doesn't decisively rule out hedonism, it provides us with some reason to reject it. I also argue for a particular way of using the experience machine to argue against hedonism – one that appeals directly to intuitions about the welfare values of experientially identical lives rather than to claims about what we value or claims about whether we would, or should, plug into the machine. The two issues are connected: the conviction that the experience machine leaves hedonism unscathed is partly due to neglect of the best way to use the experience machine.

During the early nineteenth century, the English East India Company (EIC) was in a state of transition in Penang, an island in the Straits of Malacca off the coast of the Malay Peninsula. Although the EIC had established strong ties with merchants based in Penang, they had failed to convince the EIC government in Bengal to invest them with more legal powers. As a result, they could not firmly extend formal jurisdiction over the region. The Anglo-Dutch Treaty (also known as the Treaty of London) that officially cemented EIC legal authority over the Straits of Malacca, was not signed until 1824, bringing the three Straits Settlements of Penang, Malacca, and Singapore under EIC rule officially in 1826. Prior to that, the EIC imposed their ideas of legitimacy on the region via other means, mainly through the co-optation of local individuals of all origins who were identified as politically and economically influential, by granting them EIC military protection, and ease of sailing under English flags. Because co-opted influential individuals could still be a threat to EIC authority in the region, EIC company officials eradicated competing loci of authority by discrediting them in courtroom trials in which they were treated as private individuals. All clients in EIC courts including royal personages in the region were treated like colonial subjects subject to English Common Law. By focusing on a series of trials involving a prominent merchant named Syed Hussain Aideed from 1816 to 1821, this article traces how EIC legal authority became pervasive at the eastern end of the Indian Ocean by the early nineteenth century without actual territorial conquest.

In order to understand the changes that occurred in the Buddhist Sangha (monastic community) in Sri Lanka during and after colonialization by the British, it is first necessary to understand the situation of Buddhism prior to colonialization as well as the relationship of Buddhism to secular power and the idea of civil law.

Location is crucial to understanding the position of Buddhism in Sri Lanka. Sri Lankan Buddhism definitively changed the Indian model's relationship of the Sangha to the political order. From the earliest times Sri Lankan Buddhism was connected to kingship and to the geographic space of the island of Sri Lanka, in a way that seems unique in Buddhist history. In Sri Lanka the Buddhist king was not answerable to a ‘god’, but was elected by the Sangha and other high ministers and was required to patronize the Sangha and enforce social stability.

In his critique of Clifford Geertz, Talal Asad claims that religion is not just a symbolic system but a system of power, in many cases, one that is totalizing in character. Asad's argument can be demonstrated in Sri Lanka, where the implantation of a ‘secular government’ during colonial times by the British profoundly altered the relationship between Buddhism and the inhabitants of Sri Lanka. The modern idea of religion as divorced from power succeeded in dislodging the influence that Buddhism had over Sri Lankan politics, but only for a short time.

On the grounds of an (essentially) Roman Catholic moral theology and political philosophy, Michael J. Perry states and argues for positions that vindicate the accent of recent popes on human rights as both a matter of faith and of reason—positions I believe to be largely valid and that could gain even stronger support from a Reformed Christian philosophical theology. This should not be surprising, for the Catholic tradition was the common tradition for centuries, it deeply stamped the legal structure of the West that gave rise to “rights talk,” and those strands which led to human rights in its modern form were implicitly in it, even if they were strengthened by the struggles of Protestants to establish a right to convert and, later, to advocate the freedom of religion on spiritual, intellectual, and organization grounds. Perry knows, as most Catholic and Protestants believe, that social morality is unavoidably linked to religion, that these matters can be discussed in public discourse, and that it is fateful for politics, law, social well-being and international relationships to do so. These matters are made clear not only in this book, but also in his earlier Love and Power: The Role of Religion and Morality in American Politics, The Constitution and the Courts: Law or Politics and Religion in Politics: Constitutional and Moral Perspectives. In the present book, as in the other remarkable products of this decade, we find Perry engaged not only with contemporary political philosophy and jurisprudence, which are largely secular in outlook, but with a number of scholars who are concerned with what David Tracy has called “public theology,” a term which several Protestants as well as Catholics have adopted—although in somewhat different ways.

One significant challenge confronting any state legal system is defining what speech should be permitted, or, more precisely, what speech should and should not enjoy protection from governmental interference. While the parameters of freedom of speech have been shaped and reshaped over several centuries, Anglo-American jurisprudence has not yet fully defined one of the several categories of speech that is not—and should not be—protected from interference. This is the category of incitement. Jewish law (halakhah), too, has long wrestled with this category of speech and has yet to define its contours clearly. This paper explores how these two legal systems define this category of speech, whether their approaches are commensurable, and how each can benefit from nuances found in the other.

There is a great deal of confusion in the West regarding the meaning of Jihad and the role it is playing in shaping the Muslim world. Indeed, it has acquired a pejorative connotation in the minds of many Westerners. The purpose of this discussion is to present an accurate understanding of the concept of Jihad.

Islam emerged in the seventh century in Arabia. It grew rapidly and in less than a hundred years established the early Islamic state—an empire stretching from Spain across North Africa, and from the Middle East to the borders of China. It was a state greater in size than the Roman Empire at its zenith.

The historical importance assigned to Islam has been controversially assessed. Some have denied that it is a significant world force, others have “grudgingly” recognized its importance while others have seen it as a pivotal event in world history. We take this latter view: Islam should be recognized as a major force of revolutionary change in the world order. Harold Berman, a contemporary commentator on law and revolution in the west, gives a list of six revolutions which changed the Western world. He provides a helpful list of patterns which emerged from those revolutions which he identifies as fundamental change, rapid change, violent change, lasting change, and change in the whole social system. Each revolution sought a legitimacy in fundamental law, a remote past, and an apocalyptic future. Each took more than one generation to establish its roots. Each eventually produced a new system of law which embodied some of the major purposes of the revolution and which changed the Western legal tradition, without destroying it. The appearance of Islam in the seventh century meets these criteria. Using Berman's framwork Islam can be viewed as truly revolutionary.

Constitutional scholars pay particular attention to the historical context of the First Amendment, to the relationship between the state and religion in the early republic. Missing from this academic examination of church-state history, however, is any serious consideration of the views of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, popularly known as the Covenanters, views that challenged the fundamental presuppositions of the United States Constitution, both as established in the early national period and as applied today. A typical modern American, citizen or scholar, cannot help but be startled by a coherent, closely reasoned body of doctrine that trenchantly criticizes such fundamental American assumptions as government by consent of the governed or the free exercise of religion. Covenanter criticism of the church-state relations not only presents a model of church and state radically different from today's conventional American theories, but also throws light on the American paradigm as it existed during its developmental period. Reformed Presbyterians of the early republic criticized the federal Constitution from a world view so radically different from that of the founders that their criticisms highlight aspects of the generally accepted constitutional regime in ways that conventional constitutional scholars have scarcely considered.

I begin this too-brief response to Milner Ball's exciting lecture with my favorite metaphor. From W. H. Auden's concluding chorus in “For the Time Being”:

Spending the 7th to the 9th of November on the campus of Washington and Lee University in colloquium on the theology of law (my notion of what it was all about), was a “unique adventure.” I owe both Professors Ball and Shaffer, as well as our colleagues in the colloquium, a great thanks for “redeeming my life from the ordinary,” during those unique days.

My hope would be that Prof. Ball's lecture and his subsequent completed and published work may set off the kind of external dialogue and internal growth in other lawyers and politicians as it did in me. I hope that many will argue at length whether law is basically a medium or a bulwark, but there is no argument that the work of Milner Ball is a catalyst of conversation much needed by the inert solutions of today's legal profession.

Unlike modern Western law, which is generally assumed to be the product of human deliberation about the common good, at least in democratic countries, Jewish law is a normative system in which adjudication is subject to religious commandments. The judge bears responsibility not only to the litigants standing before him but also to God, an allegiance which most modern Western judges do not, at least explicitly, recognize.

Because of the systems' assumptions that law is made by humans and thus can be understood by human judges given the appropriate information, modern Western legal systems infer that judges are under obligation to render a decision on any legal question brought before them, even in doubtful cases. Secular-civil law views the resolution of a dispute as preferable to its non-resolution, even if the judge has reservations about his decision. The judge who is hesitant to decide a case is considered to have failed to properly discharge his judicial role, the very essence of which is the regulation of human conduct in one form or other. The obligation of the judge to render a decision on every legal question both implies and requires that a judge exercise creative discretion in at least some cases where the law or its intended application are not clear to ensure the rendering of a clear and unequivocal decision on any legal question brought before him. As a consequence of this unequivocal demand that the judge decide, most judges must make peace with the possibility that their rulings may later be discovered or determined to have been mistaken.

Law is central to an understanding of the development of modern Korean Buddhism. New legal and regulatory structures that were introduced during the first two decades of the twentieth century in Korea significantly impacted the course of modern Korean Buddhist history. The relationship between modern secular laws and Buddhist organizations during this period, however, was forged chiefly in the context of increasing Japanese political control over Korea, especially after the start of direct colonial rule following annexation in 1910. Therefore, the critical legal issues involved in the historical development of early modern Korean Buddhism have typically been subsidiary to the analyses of Japanese colonial policies toward the monastic community. The precise contours of the relationship between Buddhism and law in the modern period remain largely unexplored and thus indistinct because the focus in previous studies has been placed on the confrontation between the sangha and the colonial state.