The study of uti possidetis in international law has proceeded without any detailed examination of its application to South Asian borders. Yet, the consequences of uti possidetis in the Indian subcontinent offer critical insight into the legal and functional critique levied against the doctrine. The South Asian experience provides evidence that uti possidetis cannot be considered a norm of regional customary international law, confined to Latin America and Africa. Simultaneously, it provides compelling proof of this doctrine's ruinous impact on self-determination, pointing to its potential for identity-alteration and intrastate violence: consequences that have received scarce attention in legal scholarship. By undertaking a detailed study of the Radcliffe Line in Punjab, this paper makes a prudent attempt to commence filling this gap in the literature by re-centring South Asia in the debate on uti possidetis.

In early colonial Lagos, struggles over race, place and identity were played out over ownership of land, and ended with the displacement of sections of the indigenous population. “Africa for the Africans” combines texts and maps to narrate the history of 1860s Lagos. This article demonstrates how, with Geographic Information Systems (GIS), European colonial maps can be used to analyze the significance of changing urban spatial relationships in 1860s Lagos. Though much of this analysis employs GIS, it also leans heavily on other tools for making timelines, story maps and vector diagrams. This process of creating digital representations of the past also has pedagogical applications, as these methods can be extended to the classroom for undergraduates learning about African history.

This article theorizes the colonial problem of peoplehood that Indian anticolonial thinkers grappled with in their attempts to conceptualize self-rule, or swaraj. British colonial rule drew its legitimacy from a developmentalist conception of the colonized people as backward and disunited. The discourse of “underdeveloped” colonial peoplehood rendered the Indian people “unfit” for self-government, suspending their sovereignty to an indefinite future. The concept of swaraj would be born with the rejection of deferred colonial self-government. Yet the persistence of the developmentalist figuration of the people generated a crisis of sovereign authorization. The pre-Gandhian swaraj theorists would be faced with the not-yet claimable figure of the people at the very moment of disavowing the British claim to rule. Recovering this underappreciated pre-Gandhian history of the concept of swaraj and reinterpreting its Gandhian moment, this article offers a new reading of Gandhi's theory of moral self-rule. In so doing, it demonstrates how the history of swaraj helps trace the colonial career of popular sovereignty.

This article studies the strategic disciplinary and productive function of the colonial penal system of the Dutch East Indies (1816–1942). Developing convict labour as the main punishment for minor public and labour offences, the Dutch colonial regime created an increasingly effective system of exploitation that weaved together colonial discipline, control, and coercion. This system was based on two major carceral connections: firstly, the interrelated development and employment of different coerced labour regimes, and, secondly, the disciplinary role of the legal-carceral regime within the wider colonial project, supporting not only the management of public order and labour control, but also colonial production systems. Punishment of colonial subjects through “administrative justice” (police law) accelerated in the second half of the nineteenth century, leading to an explosion in the number of convictions. The convict labour force produced by this carceral regime was vital for colonial production, supporting colonial goals such as expansion, infrastructure, extraction, and production. The Dutch colonial system was a very early, but quite advanced, case of a colonial carceral state.

In the past two decades, colonial studies, the postcolonial turn, the new imperial history, as well as world and global history have made serious strides toward revising key elements of German history. Instead of insisting that German modernity was a fundamentally unique, insular affair that incubated authoritarian social tendencies, scholars working in these fields have done much to reinsert Germany into the broader logic of nineteenth-century global history, in which the thalassocratic empires of Europe pursued the project of globalizing their economies, populations, and politics. During this period, settler colonies, including German South West Africa, were established and consolidated by European states at the expense of displaced, helotized, or murdered indigenous populations. Complementing these settler colonies were mercantile entrepôts and plantation colonies, which sprouted up as part of a systematic, global attempt to reorient non-European economies, work patterns, and epistemological frameworks along European lines. Although more modestly than some of its European collaborators and competitors, Germany joined Britain, France, the Netherlands, and the United States in a largely liberal project of global maritime imperialism.

The European colonial project involved the out-migration of at least sixty-two million Europeans to colonies across the world between the Nineteenth and first half of the Twentieth Century alone. It also involved movement in the reverse direction of human and natural resources, overwhelmingly for the benefit of Europe and Europeans. By connecting certain forms of migration in the present century to this mobility of people and goods in prior centuries, I seek to shift some of the fundamental commitments at the core of the international law, norms and discourse around global migration.

The impact of the idea of ‘development’ in multilateral trade lawmaking is often reduced to the principle of ‘special and differential treatment’, which exempts developing countries from certain obligations imposed by the trade regime. The article shows that ‘development’ has always presented a much wider challenge to the vision of the trade regime championed by the major trading nations. The development discourse has conceived the trade regime's historical significance, the regime's aims, and the relationships among its members in ways that were often fundamentally at odds with the conception preferred by most developed countries. The article explores how the development discourse has informed lawmaking initiatives by developing countries throughout the history of the trade regime. While not all of these initiatives were successful or necessarily fruitful, they show that the pursuit of development in trade lawmaking has always been more than an effort to seek exemption from trade rules.

Buoyed by the success of two large-scale bingos in 1993 Alberta's First Nations initiated plans to construct reserve casinos to mitigate economic hardships. That year Alberta commenced with neoliberal reforms to slash the provincial budget. This paper explores how Alberta's acquisition of regulatory authority over First Nation's gaming led to the creation of a bureaucracy responsible for oversight of reserve gaming, the costs of which were borne by reserve casino revenues thereby resulting in no additional taxation of non-Native Albertans.

To engage in the question of what it means to decolonize law, we must ask by what authority a law has the authority to be invoked and to govern. In this paper, I describe the conditions necessary for the exercise of Canadian law as being the work of jurisdiction, and I call into question Canada’s legality and legitimacy in making jurisdictional claims. Decolonizing law means deconstructing the state’s grounds to inaugurate law on lands acquired through colonial settlement. By critically examining law’s geography and scope I call into question the modern definition of territory itself. Further, I draw attention to jurisdiction as a conceptual framework for understanding the specificities of settler colonialism; illustrate jurisdiction as a historical concept, distinct from territory and sovereignty; and show some of the ways in which jurisdiction is enacted to govern across multiple scales and issues.

Those who have visited book stores in Zimbabwe in recent years, even the small one in Harare international airport, will have seen a thin volume authored by G.A. Chaza and entitled Bhurakuwacha: The Story of a Black Policeman in Colonial Southern Rhodesia. Bhurakuwacha is the longest and most detailed first hand account by an African member of the British South Africa Police (BSAP), Southern Rhodesia's paramilitary law enforcement organization, and as such constitutes an important source for studying the experience of black security force members in a white settler state.

Chaza was typical of the moderate and loyalist black middle class of the 1940s and 1950s that wanted equality with whites as part of a civilized imperial citizenry but became less significant during the anti-colonial and revolutionary violence of the 1960s and 1970s. Unfortunately, the book only hints at Chaza's early interest in writing which began when he was a young constable in the late 1930s and continued through his post-retirement involvement in politics in the early 1960s.

The aim of this paper is to examine the first three decades of Chaza's publications within the context of African police service in the colonial era. Bhurakuwacha was written after African nationalists had come to power in independent Zimbabwe and promoted a version of history that lionized those who had resisted colonial rule and vilified those, such as African policemen, who had worked for the colonial state. Therefore, it is tempting to see Chaza's book as an effort to rehabilitate his image by portraying African colonial police as victims of racism against which some, like the author, struggled. Looking at his now forgotten earlier writings will illustrate how Chaza's views changed over the years and reveal whether or not Bhurakuwacha represents an accurate account of African colonial police service.

Burmese colonial history suggests that a legal system cannot operate independently from the felt needs of the people who are supposed to obey the law. Despite a monopoly of force for many decades, the British failed to create a sustainable legal system in Burma. Colonial status shifted Burma’s economic role from subsistence agriculture to the generation of large-scale exports. By undermining the traditional Burmese legal system and substituting Western international standards of property rights, enforceability of contracts, and an independent judiciary—all attributes of what some consider to be the “Rule of Law”—the legal system amplified and channelled destructive economic and social forces rather than containing them. This paper examines traditional Burmese law, the administration of law in British Burma, and the consequences of the new legal system for the country and its own stability. The paper concludes by suggesting lessons for Myanmar today, and for the study of the “Rule of Law.”