This article examines postcolonial representations of the jungle and the desert, focusing on two novels in particular: Étienne Goyémidé’s Le silence de la forêt (1984) and Tahar Djaout’s L’invention du désert (1987). Postcolonial literary representations of these “extreme” landscapes are layered with allusions and almost always engage in an intertextual conversation with the colonial genres that influenced readers’ conception of these spaces. The specificity of jungle and desert serves in contemporary postcolonial literature as a foil to homogenizing forces of both the past and the present, as seen in the stylistic techniques authors employ to depict these spaces. These stylistic techniques often work in two seemingly opposing directions: they “naturalize” landscapes that are often portrayed as inhuman and contrast them to the “unnatural” structures of colonial and postcolonial society, while at the same time embodying and claiming the distortion or disorientation inherent in those landscapes. These complex, multifaceted, geographically rooted descriptions, which incorporate and react to a variety of historical and cultural factors, take what I call an ecosystem approach, rather than continuing to rely on a false nature/culture division.

When this essay appears in print, it will be two years since the death of legalphilosopher and constitutional law scholar Ronald Dworkin. One recurringreminder of the magnitude of that loss is the absence of Dworkin'sregular, insightful essays for the New York Review of Booksanalyzing significant US Supreme Court decisions. Thus, when, last term, aclosely divided (5–4) Court released its much-anticipated decision inBurwell v. Hobby Lobby, upholding a challenge by threefor-profit corporations to the contraceptive coverage provisions (the so-calledcontraceptive mandate) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2010(ACA), sadly missing in the flurry of commentary was Dworkin'sassessment of the case. Readers of this journal may perhaps appreciate theallusion when I say that the decision prompted me to wonder, “Whatwould Dworkin do?” That same question arose again when, on July 3,2014, in Wheaton College v. Burwell, over a strong dissent byJustices Sotomayor, Ginsburg, and Kagan, the Court granted the emergency requestof Wheaton College to be relieved from complying with the ACA'saccommodation procedure for religious nonprofit organizations that object tocontraceptive coverage on religious grounds, even before the lower courts hadruled on the merits of the college's claim.

Robert Sugden has suggested a normative standard of freedom as ‘opportunity’ that is supposed to help realign normative economics – with its traditional rational choice orientation – with behavioural economics. While allowing preferences to be incoherent, he wants to maintain the anti-paternalist stance of orthodox welfare economics. His standard, though, presupposes that people respond to uncertainty about their own future preferences by dismissing any kind of self-constraint. We argue that the approach lacks psychological substance: Sugden's normative benchmark – the ‘responsible person’ – can hardly serve as a convincing role model in a contractarian setting. An alternative concept is introduced, and some implications are briefly discussed.

Many legal systems have foundational stories about their provenance, serving to heighten the stature and authority of the normative order. Yet, these primary myths are often complicated by secondary ones that describe later climactic moments. A prevalent plot of this latter kind involves a defiant political actor who contests the jurisdiction of the courts and relates the legal order's response to this daunting challenge. The crucible of struggle forges a formidable legal institution that can withstand assault or a weaker one that limply survives.

Such stories captivate the collective legal imagination of a paideic community, a process first analyzed by the late Robert Cover. Hence they are preserved, told, and retold. However, the morals of secondary stories are more variable. Precisely because they examine moments of disturbance and conflict their implications are frequently in dispute. Thus, the very act of narration aims to amplify core truths implicit in these tales and announce their essential lessons.

The narrative history of the epic “trial of the Judean king” among Jews in antiquity and late antiquity affords a striking instance of this phenomenon. Making a lasting impression on the Jewish legal imagination of this period, the trial's impact and perpetual legacy are nevertheless highly contested. While the enduring lesson of the trial revolves around the relationship between law and power, what that legacy is depends entirely on the way the tale of the trial is told and, perhaps more importantly, retold.

This study seeks to forge a new avenue of legal scholarship on the modern religious movement known as Hasidism. The paper focuses on Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady (ca. 1745–1812)—Hasidic master, religious thinker, and jurist. Much has been written on Shneur Zalman, his formidable leadership in the face of strident opposition and his groundbreaking religious philosophy. His legacy continues to animate contemporary Judaism, primarily through his spiritual heirs—the Lubavitch Hasidic community—and through his Hasidic thought known as Chabad. The present study maps out an aspect which has been widely neglected, but is nonetheless crucial to understanding this religious leader: Rabbi Shneur Zalman's legal activity. The first part of the study surveys existing research, assessing what has been achieved thus far, and what tools are available for further research. The second part of the essay highlights salient questions to be considered as part of a judicial biography, offering preliminary answers to these questions. The article concludes with the contention that without serious analysis of Rabbi Shneur Zalman's legal writings—or for that matter, legal writings of Hasidic masters in general—any intellectual history of this religious movement will be incomplete.

It is sometimes asserted that enabling harm is morally equivalent to allowing harm (the moral equivalence thesis). In this article, I criticize this view. Positively, I show that cases involving self-defence and cases involving people acting on the basis of a reasonable belief to the effect that certain obstacles to harm will remain in place, or will be put in place, show that enabling harm is harder to justify than allowing it. Negatively, I argue that certain cases offered in defence of the moral equivalence thesis fail, because either (1) their similarity with the archetypal trolley case limits their relevance to an assessment of this thesis, or (2) they are compromised by their reliance on the elusive notion of a situation being completely stable.

Environmental management had its early stages in the early years of the 20th century. This note contrasts the different regimes that emerged with regard to the management of seals and the seal hunt: the well-researched Bering Sea regime and the little known regimes between Finland and the Soviet Union. While the former shaped and already embedded principles of modern environmental law and has the seal population as its primary focus, the latter agreements did not make reference to the environmental dimension of the seal hunt, but must be read against the backdrop of the difficult border situations between the two countries.

This paper argues that secular legal systems need a better defined space for freedom of conscience because this important right has been crowded out by both freedom of religion and freedom of thought. Based on the principles of the Protestant Reformation, American constitutionalism expanded the idea of freedom of conscience to the point of making it almost interchangeable with freedom of religion. On the other hand, international law, followed by European constitutional law, reduced the political force of the concept of freedom of conscience by assimilating it to freedom of thought. And yet freedom of conscience cannot be treated just the same as either religious freedom or freedom of thought. By nature, the secular legal systems of political communities are moral, but nonreligious. So morality and religion affect legal systems in different ways. For this reason, freedom of conscience and freedom of religion should be protected using different legal devices. The so-called privilege of abstaining (beneficium abstinendi) best protects freedom of conscience; freedom of religion, by contrast, is appropriately protected by what I call the religious exception (exceptio religiosa). The consequences of applying these legal tools in particular cases, and their proper scopes, depend on the constitutional model of the political community in question. But in general, an increasingly globalized, diverse, and multicultural society demands a wider application of both these legal tools.

This article challenges perceptions about the origins and objectives of the ‘neighbourhood unit principle’ that emerged in 1944, by focusing on the location and purpose of shops. It argues that the positioning of retail spaces was central, but largely overlooked, to the socio-spatial schema that lay at the heart of the neighbourhood principle. Planners saw shops as a hub of face-to-face interaction, through which nebulous objectives like ‘community spirit’ might be engendered. However, planners did not account for the way that their need-based model of shopping might be undermined by the consumer habits of inhabitants and the changing objectives of retailers.

In 1922–1923, Fascist Party leaders hoped to define a sharp break from previous approaches to colonial rule and imperial expansion in Italy's Libyan territories. Mussolini's nomination of Luigi Federzoni, a leading figure of the Italian Nationalist Association, as the Minister of Colonies at the end of 1922 signalled a new era in Italian colonial administration focused on aggressive expansion and the institution of what was known as a ‘politics of prestige’. This definition of a fascist style of colonial rule appealed to the enthusiasm for violence among blackshirt militias and early fascist supporters in the Libyan territories. This definition of a fascist style of colonial rule, however, inspired immediate reaction from both colonial officials, with stakes in maintaining a measure of continuity and stability, and from those within the nascent Fascist Party who wanted to promote an alternative model of fascism in the colonies. This article examines contests to define fascism and fascist colonial rule in the Libyan territories through the employment of voluntary militias, the competing voices of Fascist Party outposts, and various programmes for the development of a colonial culture.