This is the edited transcript of a seminar on 27 February 2020 organised at Warwick Law School in appreciation of the work of Peter Fitzpatrick. Peter was seriously ill at the time but was desirous of online participation. Sadly, the seminar was the last public performance by Peter prior to his death. A variety of themes in Peter's work are discussed, including his critique of H.L.A. Hart, his notion of ‘slow reading’, the relationship between theory and grounded engagement with people, the idea of community and relationality, the role of the critic, self-criticism, the impossibility of law, decoloniality, occidentalism, mythologies and governmentality, and the significance of narratives.

In this brief tribute, I pursue the long-promised imaginary conversation with Peter Fitzpatrick and engage two themes: the nature of an abyss and the conversion of Karl Marx from a revolutionary thinker to a best exemplar of evolutionary thought. If these themes make some sense, a good way of being with Peter is a further exploration amidst us all.

In this essay, I discuss the legal theorist, Peter Fitzpatrick's, reading of philosopher Michel Foucault. My intent is to show how and why Foucault was important to Fitzpatrick and what this reveals about the latter's practices of reading. I characterise this particular reading in three ways. First, against the disciplinary tendency to assume that Foucault is more useful to lawyers for how he approaches law (as method), Fitzpatrick takes seriously what Foucault has to say about law as a conceptual matter. Fitzpatrick hence reads Foucault as a legal thinker. Second, Fitzpatrick does not restrict himself to the conventional archive of Foucauldian texts that legal scholars routinely consult, but reads more widely and creatively in his search for law. Third, Fitzpatrick reads Foucault open-endedly and generously rather than instrumentally or dismissively – textual ambivalence and contradiction are always, in his hands, sources of creative possibility and insight. This leads into some concluding reflections about Fitzpatrick's practice of critically rereading thinkers – all thinkers, not simply Foucault.

This article investigates the history of coffee culture across three continents during the Fascist ventennio (1922–45.) By using the novel framework of coffee, from the bean in the field to the machine in the caffè, it connects interwar histories that previously have been explored independently. Specifically, it examines the transnational economics of coffee bean trade routes and the colonial imagery of coffee advertising to argue that caffès emerged as key sites for promoting the Fascist imperial projects in East Africa – an architectural and artistic legacy that remains in place today. Ultimately, this trajectory broadens the way that we understand how food and farming became politicised during the Fascist period. By untangling the interwar trade of beans and bodies between Italy, Brazil, and Ethiopia, this article brings to light an untold story of caffeinated imperial aggression and resistance.

This short paper intends to set out a general theory underpinning the process of contractualisation of public international law. In doing so, it explains that this has chiefly been engineered through the establishment of a third sphere of regulation – in addition to the spheres of domestic law(s) and international law – namely transnational law. Both private actors and states operate through this sphere, chiefly because of its flexibility, decreased transaction costs and access to capital (which is scarce in the other two spheres). These benefits of transacting in the transnational-law sphere and the contractualisation of pertinent relationships come at a cost. Such a cost, from the perspective of human rights and parliamentary sovereignty, is explored by reference to two case-studies. The second of these, on the outsourcing of indigenous land rights, is predicated on the research and observations offered by Bhatt (2020).

This paper provides an engagement with, and highlights the depth of, Peter Fitzpatrick's careful examination of myths that grounded modern law and its colonial instances. That grounding is shown to be premised on a concealment of basic contradictions behind fictions of a unified law, even though it only appears through negations of others. Intersecting patterns of marginalisation are shown to be constitutive of modern and colonial law, so it is not surprising that current protests should address a basic exclusionary racism that Fitzpatrick's work signalled. It concludes with some reflections on what his work might mean for three current debates.

In the mid-twentieth century, the Family Planning Association emerged in Britain as one of the largest providers of infertility diagnosis for men and women. In the early years of the century, women were coming to birth control centers seeking cures for their childlessness, well before those centers began officially offering infertility investigation and treatment. What changed by mid-century was the emergence of a determination not only to welcome infertility patients at birth control clinics but to establish the clinics as centers for infertility research and care. Beginning in the late 1930s, eugenicists concerned with the impact of population decline on the social acceptability of birth control formed an alliance with feminist medical professionals determined both to empower women in involuntarily childless marriages to understand and address the causes of their infertility and to shift the paradigm of infertility treatment away from its over-focus on the female body. This political marriage of convenience gave birth to a large-scale movement to diagnose both male and female infertility through the auspices of the Family Planning Association. The organization's infertility program, in turn, spurred the development of infertility as a field of medical research in postwar Britain and encouraged the expansion of National Health Service provision of infertility care.

The contributions to this Special Issue, and the books to which they relate, are premised on the idea that the Rule of Law relates to private relationships. I challenge that idea. By exploring solely theoretical ideas, I argue that the Rule of Law – as it is usually defined – does not relate to private relationships and, in consequence, the nexus necessary to invoke a Rule of Law-solution in the circumstances outlined in the books is absent.

The theme of the book symposium ‘The Rule of Law in Transnational Development Projects’ is, as Bhatt's Concessionaires, Financiers and Communities (2020) and Lander's Transnational Law and State Transformation (2020) highlight, ripe for critical reflection. The two books reveal the power wielded by private for-profit actors in the co-constitution of legal norms, often at the expense of local communities in development-investment settings. The co-constitution of legal norms by private actors via ‘contracts’, ‘policies’ and ‘intermediaries’ (Bhatt, Lander and Taekema, Book Symposium Introduction in this issue) development permeates rule of law in the public sphere, including in ways that affect the application of domestic and international legal norms relating to human rights. Of course, rule of law may be defined by ‘thick’ conceptions … as a just system of laws ‘consistent with international human rights norms and standards’ (UN Secretary General, 2004, para. 6) or ‘thin’ conceptions with more formalistic requirements that do not prescribe political or social values. Deontological questions aside, even in its ‘thinnest’ conception, rule of law means that legal norms ‘should be publicly promulgated; be predictable in their application; apply to all citizens, including government officials; and be subject to some form of neutral adjudication in the event of disputes as to their interpretation or application’ (Trebilcock, 2011, p. 209). Yet, rule of law has often been applied ‘to favour entrenched elites over resistance groups, vested interests … over civil disobedience, official actors over unofficial actors and property owners over protestors’ (Simpson, 2012, p. 9).

This paper examines the reciprocal interplay between Peter Fitzpatrick's life and work, between significant people, events, ideas and values, and the ways in which he made and re-made himself. It illuminates Peter's struggle, especially from the 1990s onwards, to place ethics centre stage in both life and law. Drawing on archival and secondary research, including interviews with Peter's family, former colleagues and students, this contribution to legal life writing adds to what we already knew about Peter and his scholarship. It assesses and clarifies his key ideas and their intersection with his ethics and lived experiences. It is hoped that the paper will encourage those who are less familiar with Peter's work, or who find his writing daunting, to tackle it anew and appreciate its significance.

It is observed in the Introduction of this special issue that the rule of law has been an integral part of the development of democratic systems of government in national states and features powerfully within contemporary ‘good-governance’ promotion in the Global South by development financial institutions (DFIs). However, the rule of law is predominantly used to emphasise the importance of stability of contract and protection of property in connection with transnational development projects (TDPs) and does not so much focus on the general stability of (e.g. indigenous) rights, access to justice and fairness. Thus, it is important to deviate from a narrow interpretation of the rule of law and include the role of all types of actors in safeguarding this rule of law.

We are sympathetic to the research aims of the two books examined by this symposium and their desire to understand law's role in generating and contesting social injustice. We are also intrigued by the proposal in the Introduction to this symposium, notably to expand the normative reach of the rule-of-law ideal to private actors, in order to transform it into an ally of counter-hegemonic action. In our research, we share a similar research focus (development projects), methodology (case-studies) and concerns (harmful effects of development interventions) with the authors of the two books. Accordingly, in this contribution, we want to think together with the editors of the symposium – by examining the case-study of the Hidroituango project in Colombia (hereinafter, ‘Hidroituango’) – whether the rule of law can indeed be reimagined to limit the arbitrary exercise of power by private actors, and what benefits this might create for dealing with social injustice. However, since neither Bhatt nor Lander advances an explicit account of rule of law in their books, our critique in this piece is addressed not at them, but rather at the theorists and advocates of rule of law as a political ideal.

This brief paper is an account of Peter Fitzpatrick's appointment to the Faculty of Law at Queens University, Belfast, and his consequent transformation, personally and professionally, during his short tenure at Queens.

I have long felt that Peter Fitzpatrick's 1987 paper, ‘Racism and the innocence of law’, should be closely studied by all law students during, or shortly after, their induction to the study of law. These concise notes on the paper are written primarily in tribute to a friend, colleague and mentor but, in writing them, I hope also to demonstrate how this early instance of a theory about how law is intertwined in racial capitalism could be taught in those law schools that harbour ambitions to be not only critical, but also decolonial. Inevitably, in such a short piece, choices have had to be made about which aspects of the paper to foreground and which to leave out entirely. I trust that my decision to focus on those aspects that can be more readily comprehended by a student with limited knowledge of legal theory and substantive fields of law will not be thought to have unduly watered down its meaning.

This paper reflects upon the enduring relevance of Peter Fitzpatrick's analysis of incommensurability in the context of post-colonialism and the lived experiences of Indigenous peoples in the US.

By browsing the website of Land Matrix, one can measure the extent of land-related large-scale investments in natural resources (LRINRs) and place it on the world map. At the time of writing, the extent of these investments covers an area equal to the surfaces of Spain and Portugal together – or, for football fans, around 60 million football pitches. These investment operations have often been saluted as instrumental to achieve the developmental needs of host countries and as the necessary private counterpart to state (and interstate) efforts aimed at (sustainable) development goals. Yet, the realities on the ground offer a scenario characterised by severe instances of displacement of indigenous or local communities and environmental disruptions. The starting point of this short essay is that these ‘externalities’ are generated through the legal construct enabling the implementation of these investment operations. As such, this contribution lies neatly in the line of research set forth in the excellent books of Kinnari Bhatt and Jennifer Lander, from the perspective of both the development culture shaping these investment operations and the private–public environment in which these are situated. The essay tries and dialogues with both components, while focusing at a metalevel on the theoretical shifts potentially geared to turn a ‘tale of exclusion’ into a ‘tale of inclusion’.

This paper reflects on the notion of partial ambiguity. Using a framework decomposing ambiguity into distinct layers of analysis, among which are risk and model uncertainty, and allowing for different attitudes toward these layers, I show that partial ambiguity may prove less desirable than full ambiguity, even under ambiguity aversion. This observation poses difficulties for interpreting the notion of partial ambiguity in relation to the partial information available to determine the potential compositions of an ambiguous urn. Two Ellsberg-style thought experiments are described to challenge the meaning of partial ambiguity further, and an alternative interpretation, based on a more ambiguous relation, is discussed.