This chapter examines the transformative effects of generative AI (GenAI) on competition law, exploring how GenAI challenges traditional business models and antitrust regulations. The evolving digital economy, characterised by advances in deep learning and foundation models, presents unique regulatory challenges due to market power concentration and data control. This chapter analyses the approaches adopted by the European Union, United States, and United Kingdom to regulate the GenAI ecosystem, including recent legislation such as the EU Digital Markets Act, the AI Act, and the US Executive Order on AI. It also considers foundational models’ reliance on key resources, such as data, computing power, and human expertise, which shape competitive dynamics across the AI market. Challenges at different levels—including infrastructure, data, and applications—are investigated, with a focus on their implications for fair competition and market access. The chapter concludes by offering insights into the balance needed between fostering innovation and mitigating the risks of monopolisation, ensuring that GenAI contributes to a competitive and inclusive market environment.

The Stoics have sometimes been credited with concern for appropriately moral motivation, based on their distinction between those actions they classify as appropriate (kathēkonta) and those they characterize, in addition, as done on the basis of virtue (katorthōmata). This chapter argues that the Kantian and Stoic views closely resemble one another in this respect: just as Kant’s motive of duty requires a singular interest in the rightness of dutiful action, so the Stoics suppose that virtue and actions that originate in virtue are the only objects of fully rational desire. Both theories recognize, as well, that many of our cognitions are not transparent to ourselves, so that we are often unaware of our own motives. This recognition speaks to the depth and complexity of Stoic intellectualist psychology and underlies Kant’s claim that the effort to understand our own moral condition is a “wide” duty of virtue.

The final chapter of the book reflects on its lessons, concluding that the responsiveness of NJMs to the dynamics lying behind grievances – understood as fields of struggle – is key to delivering remedy. This is true whether the relevant NJM is central to that struggle, or whether (as is more often the case) it plays a more peripheral or supportive role within broader processes of decentered regulation. Transnational NJMs may lack coercive power, but they span jurisdictions that state bodies have difficulty regulating. In principle, they have greater capacity to design new approaches as problems arise, benefiting from independence, shorter institutional histories and more capacity to experiment than state bodies, which can experience stronger institutional inertia and political constraints. To strengthen their capacity to build and sustain influence, NJMs should be designed to be nimble, with a range of functions and structures and resourced with staff capable of reading and navigating the deeply contested fields of business and human rights.

Adam Smith ridicules the Stoics for neglecting the objects of virtuous choice. They think of life, he says, as a kind of game, the point of which is not winning but playing well, playing fairly and playing skillfully. The Stoics thus misrepresent what is at stake in our lives. This chapter discusses the difference between Kantian and Stoic ethics by focusing on questions raised by Smith’s analogy: Should the Stoics be troubled by his critique? Can the same criticism be leveled against Kantian ethics? How does the Kantian category of conditional goodness differ from the Stoic category of moral indifferents? And is Kant’s anti-eudaimonism – his insistence that virtue does not coincide with happiness – as significant a departure from Stoicism as he would have us believe?

This chapter tackles the question: What opportunities and liabilities did living, breathing veterans of 1930s Cuban antifascism present to Cuban revolutionary leaders beginning in 1959? It explores the convoluted, often transnational trajectories of individual antifascist Cubans from the 1930s forward. In so doing, it intervenes into the historiographies of both transnational antifascism and the Cuban Revolution, the former which has until recently mostly ignored Cuba and the latter which has mostly ignored antifascism. Individual human stories that demonstrate the multifaceted interactions of 1930s Cuban antifascism with the Cuban Revolution counter oversimplification, omission, politicization, and romanticization. The chapter concludes that historical memory of 1930s Cuban antifascism existed in post-1959 Cuba only to the extent to which it stood in explicit support of the Cuban Revolution, at least through the end of the twentieth century, and that it served ideological and pragmatic purposes

Reinach’s thesis that there is a legal a priori is as bold as it is interesting. It is bold because it excludes all sources of positive law and claims that certain legal propositions can be known independent of all actual legal systems. The thesis is especially interesting as it does not rely on natural law but rather on immediate insight into a priori legal propositions. Given the great variety of possible a priori propositions, the chapter focuses on necessary, essential, and nonpositive ones. All of them do not reveal a legal a priori, which casts the existence of a legal a priori into doubt. However, the phenomenon of self-evident propositions remains important. One just needs to analyse them differently with the help of nonpositive legal reasons.