This chapter considers the role courts play in protecting fundamental rights. It addresses three questions. What role do domestic courts play in the protection of rights in different constitutional settings? In examining key elements of constitutional design, the chapter show how there are significant variations in how courts protect rights across the world. Secondly, what role should courts play in the adjudication of rights? Here it is argued that courts in their ordinary work, applying legislation and the common law, do and must protect rights. With regard to the more contested question whether courts should protect rights under a constitutional bill of rights, the chapter argues that the case for such a role for courts is at its strongest in certain circumstances but that it cannot be claimed that in all circumstances courts should be conferred with this power. Finally, the chapter considers the current debates in the United Kingdom concerning a possible repeal of the Human Rights Act, and withdrawal from the European Convention of Human Rights, and expresses dismay at the prospect of the repeal of the Human Rights Act, given how elegantly that Act combines protection for rights by UK courts with the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty.

Courts are institutions within the broad body politic of their society, which comprises not only the branches and institutions of the state, but also political parties, the media, civil society and the legal profession. The role that courts play in modern bodies politic has expanded significantly since the Second World War, mainly as a result of the practice of writing constitutions. These constitutions have often been adopted at a time of transitions, such as decolonisation, following a war or a period of autocratic rule or civil war and have accordingly often been accompanied by uncertainty and fragility. Responding to the expanded role of courts with a general normative claim that the expanded role of courts is democratically inappropriate without a careful consideration of the circumstances in which the role of courts has been expanded is unsatisfactory and in a world in which democratic backsliding is largely characterised by an expansion in executive power is probably also unwise.

The Introduction introduces the central research questions of the study and summarizes the main arguments. It also lays out the research design and discusses the key concepts and how it measures them. Finally, it provides summaries of all of the chapters in the book.

Chapter 2 uses an original database on historical elections in South America to explore when and where democracy first emerged in the region. Scholars traditionally portrayed nineteenth-century elections in Latin America as farces, but in recent years historians have challenged this view. This chapter shows that many South American elections in the nineteenth century involved significant participation and competition, and a few were even free and fair. Nevertheless, authoritarian rule predominated. Most elections were non-competitive, numerous restrictions on the franchise existed, and voter turnout tended to be low in comparison to Europe and the United States. Moreover, the few democratic episodes in the nineteenth century proved to be quite brief, as the freely elected presidents were either overthrown or subverted democracy to perpetuate themselves or their allies in power. However, in the first three decades of the twentieth century, a great divide occurred. A few South American countries, namely Argentina, Chile, Colombia, and Uruguay, established democratic regimes that lasted a dozen years or more. By contrast, authoritarian rule deepened in the other six countries of the region

Chapter 5 shows how the development of strong parties and professional militaries contributed to the emergence of enduring democracies in Chile and Uruguay. Both countries developed strong parties during the late nineteenth century thanks in part to the geographic concentration of the population and the existence of relatively balanced cleavages. During the nineteenth century, these parties at times sought power via armed revolts, but once the military professionalized, the opposition began to focus exclusively on the electoral route to power. This occurred in the late nineteenth century in Chile, but not until the early twentieth century in Uruguay. In both countries, opposition parties pushed for democratic reforms to enfranchise their supporters and level the electoral playing field. It was not until the ruling party split, however, that the opposition managed to enact major reforms, which occurred in Chile in 1890 and Uruguay in 1917. In both countries, strong opposition parties played a central role not only in the enactment of the reforms but also in their enforcement.

Chapter 1 lays out the central theoretical arguments of the book. It argues that three factors played a key role in the emergence of democracy in region: the professionalization of the military, the rise of strong opposition parties, and splits within the ruling party. It analyzes what led to the professionalization of the military and the rise of strong opposition parties and it shows how they led to varying regime outcomes in different South American countries. This chapter also discusses why existing theories of democratization cannot fully explain the emergence of democracy in the region

This chapter reveals how Caribbean Basin democracy and international antifascism came together during the 1944 Masacre Sampedrana. For over a decade, Honduran, Nicaraguan, and Dominican exiles protested against the respective dictatorships of Tiburcio Carías, Anastasio Somoza, and Rafael Trujillo. With World War II, exiles tapped into the international struggle against fascism to invigorate their local anti-dictatorial efforts. They blended the Four Freedoms, the Atlantic Charter, and other antifascist symbols with their longstanding democratic ideals while networking with likeminded allies. Their struggle culminated in July 1944 as teachers, workers, and students utilized antifascist symbols when women spearheaded protests against Carías’ dictatorship. After the regime violently responded, anti-dictatorial individuals and groups throughout the greater Caribbean continued to blend antifascism and Latin American democracy to denounce the horrific Masacre Sampedrana and direct regional and international attention on the Honduran dictatorship.

Chapter 6 examines how parties and the military shaped democracy in Argentina and Colombia. Both countries were ruled by authoritarian regimes in the nineteenth century that manipulated elections to remain in power. A strong opposition party, the Radical Civic Union, arose in Argentina in the 1890s and this party initially sought power through armed revolts as well as elections, but the professionalization of the military at the end of the nineteenth century made armed struggle futile. The Radicals pushed for democratic reforms but could not achieve them until a split within the ruling party led dissidents to come to power. After passage of the reforms in 1912, the Radicals won the presidency, but Argentina then lacked a strong opposition party, which undermined democracy in the long run. In Colombia, two strong parties arose during the nineteenth century and whichever party was in the opposition sought power at times via armed revolt. Colombia professionalized its armed forces in the early twentieth century, however, which forced the opposition to abandon the armed struggle. The opposition began to focus on the electoral path to power, but was only able to enact democratic reforms thanks to a split within the ruling party. In the wake of these reforms, Colombian elections became relatively free and fair, but the country's military was not strong enough to contain increasing regional violence, which undermined the country's democracy.

The Conclusion summarizes the main arguments in the book and discusses to what extent the factors that shaped regime outcomes in the early twentieth century mattered post-1929. It also examines the broader theoretical implications of the book, analyzes the extent to which the arguments work in Mexico and Central America, and lays out an agenda for future research on historical democratization.

In journalism education, the First Amendment’s guarantee of press freedom is typically taught as a cornerstone of American democracy. Yet this approach too often fails to grapple with the historical and ongoing realities of racial inequality and the experiences of marginalized communities, particularly Black Americans, in relation to press freedom. The traditional emphasis on teaching journalists to be strictly “objective” often leads the press to report in ways that perpetuate the status quo and fail to hold those in power accountable.

In this chapter, I argue for a critical reexamination of how the First Amendment and press freedom are taught in journalism classrooms. I draw on historical analysis, legal case studies, and contemporary examples to advocate for a “reparative journalism” approach. By centering the voices and experiences of those who have been systematically excluded from the full protections of the First Amendment and by interrogating the complex relationship between race, power, and the press, this approach seeks to develop a more inclusive, historically grounded, and forward-looking vision of journalism’s role in society.

The Supreme Court’s 1945 ruling in Associated Press v. United States identifies a public right to robust, accurate information. Many of America’s most consequential journalists hold this as a core value, viewing it as an individual right to the press, and not simply freedom of the press as an industry. It is a vow that citizens in our democracy will have access to reliable, accurate, comprehensive information in order to empower their full enfranchisement in our democracy; the promise that each citizen has a right to know.

A free press is often heralded as a key cornerstone of American democracy, a vital institution tasked with informing the public and holding those in power accountable. Yet, as the industry faces an existential crisis, with the collapse of traditional business models and the rise of deep political polarization amid a sea of misinformation and propaganda, it has become increasingly clear that thinking of press freedom only in terms of a market that must be protected from government interference cannot sustain the kind of robust, diverse, and accessible press that a healthy democracy requires. This chapter argues that to truly fulfill the promise of a “right to know” for all people, we must reimagine the relationship between the press and the public and consider bold new forms of public support for journalism.

One of the Supreme Court’s most significant First Amendment rulings may be in peril. For the past 60 years, the landmark 1964 decision of New York Times Co. v. Sullivan and the cases that followed have secured strong First Amendment protections for the press and others who speak on public affairs. Under these cases, public officials and public figures must show that the speaker acted with “actual malice” or “reckless disregard” of the truth in order to win a libel suit. This chapter draws heavily on my book Actual Malice: Civil Rights and Freedom of the Press in New York Times v. Sullivan (Oakland: University of California Press, 2023). Scholars and advocates have long celebrated Sullivan as one of the most important Supreme Court rulings for the protection of press freedom. Yet, this history also lays bare the high stakes of losing the First Amendment protections recognized in Sullivan. Prior to the Court’s ruling in Sullivan, government officials and other public figures routinely weaponized libel laws to suppress their critics, particularly members of the press. This chapter uses history to explain how and why Sullivan nearly eliminated those overwhelming threats to the press. If New York Times Co. v. Sullivan and related cases are overruled, libel suits could again become weapons of blatant political suppression.

This chapter is a short intellectual biography focusing on my interest and engagement in questions of political legitimacy over the years. The chapter is organized into three parts. I begin by discussing how the issue of legitimacy has been one of my key intellectual concerns ever since I started to do research on politics, initially in the context of the study of political and legal regimes in Latin America (Argentina, Chile, and Uruguay). Next, I highlight my understanding of political legitimacy as a responsibility and what this means for the evaluation and judgment of politics. This understanding builds on one of my previous books, Legitimacy and Politics: A Contribution to the Study of Political Right and Political Responsibility. Finally, I focus on how, gradually, in particular in connection with my work with the United Nations (UN), I became interested in the question of political legitimacy at the international level.

As the United States faces the real threat of democratic backsliding, it is clear that the current commercial news media simply lacks the power and capacity to facilitate the development of the “informed citizen” who is foundational to liberal democratic ideals. This piece argues for the need to reconceptualize citizenship in an era when professional journalism plays a significantly diminished role in directly shaping our news and information environment, especially at the local level. I make the case that we must consider what it means to live in a post-newspaper democracy. In a time of market failure for local news, both journalists and the public need to identify which functions are unique to professional journalism as a civic institution. I join others who have argued that we need to move away from the concept of the “good citizen” as only a consumer of information/voter as their form of civic participation. I call for reimagining citizenship with communication at its center. Within this theory of “communicative citizenship,” a good citizen plays the civic role of communicator, not as a replacement for journalists, but instead as a facilitator of the flow of reliable civic information from institutions to their fellow community members.

If the press can claim rights different from those guaranteed to every speaker, it must be because we understand the Press Clause to serve constitutional values different from the freedom of speech clause and because these values require distinct forms of rights for their protection. In this short chapter, I explore four distinct constitutional values that at various times have been claimed to be uniquely served by the press: 1) the value of public discourse, 2) the Meiklejohnian value of distributing information, 3) the checking value, and 4) the value of the public sphere. Each of these values yields a different constitutional definition of the “press,” and each might imply a different array of rights that ought to accrue to the press. Although these values are distinct, the press may simultaneously serve one or more of them.

The Electoral College can misfire, electing a president who loses the popular vote (as in 2000 and 2016), but the presidential nomination process can misfire as well, producing a nominee (as in 1952 or, more recently, 2016) who is less popular among party voters than other candidates in the party. The cause of this is the byzantine web of state laws and party rules governing the process. This book explores those rules, enabling us to make sense of the process and understand how presidential candidates have been selected throughout American history. Surprisingly, for much of American history, the major party’s nominees were chosen by party leaders, not ordinary voters, and even today, the process is far less democratic than many imagine. Not every voter is able to participate in the process, and not every vote is weighted equally. This book examines the evolution of the rules governing the nomination process and how those rules contribute to the increasing ideological polarization of our politics today.