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The law in a liberal state is often a violent instrument. So said Robert Cover. Among those communities to which the law has been particular cruel are Native Americans. Indeed, the traditions and practices of Native American tribes have spawned rich and fascinating narratives. Each tribe has created its own “nomos – its own normative universe” – with a distinct set of rules, expectations, and tenets. Even still, the state and federal governments have historically challenged Native American traditions and culture with various legal and judicial policies. Insofar as the state-imposed law is blunt and imprecise, certain Native American narratives are thus threatened. Over the past decade, several judicial cases have highlighted the clash between the state’s imperial authority and Native American narratives. Our chapter explores these court cases with an eye to the inevitable conflicts that emerge when law exists uneasily in a liberal state.

From time to time before the Industrial Revolution a small number of influential patrons of the Arts exercised great influence on design. Such names as George IV, the Prince Consort, William Morris, Earl of Burlington, and Robert Adams covering the last two centuries spring to the mind. In the year 1944, while the second world war was still on, a movement was inaugurated by the Coalition Government to improve the standard of design generally, sponsored largely by the Government. It was recognized that the term ‘British Made’ alone was not enough to secure success in a highly competitive market where there is absolute necessity to develop and extend the export business. According to The Sunday Times of 26th June 1945, a simple questionnaire on the design factors affecting exports was addressed to thirty foreign Embassies and Legations in Britain. In addition, personal discussions took place with the attaches of seventeen countries. The answers of these experts were most interesting and illuminating.

This chapter offers a reading of the inclusion of Susan Glaspell's short story, A Jury of Her Peers, in the casebook, Procedure. What does it mean that the editors turn to a secular, literary narrative to ground a consideration of “The Problem of Judgment?” How should we read the irony of the reading instructions they provide, which reproduce the blindness to form – to the significance of “trifles” – that the text describes? How do we read literature in the context of law? More specifically, what does attention to the form of the story yield for an understanding of legal judgment?

This chapter argues that Albert Camus's post-World War II novella The Fall narrates a bridge of complicity between medicine and law, implicating both professions in the Nazi formulation of race. Rather than reading the work as a broadly construed allegory of the Holocaust, it situates Camus's text within the framework of the Nuremberg trials and their judgment of perpetrators in professional rather than in wide-ranging moral terms. The essay concludes by examining Camus's use of the subjunctive, which posits juridical force as the act of imagining alternatives to the past, and using these alternative scenarios as a basis for judgment.

ROYAL Alderman T. A. Abbott of Manchester, dealt with somewhat severely by Dr. Savage in his A Librarian's Memories, had at least enthusiasm for libraries. He was mightily honoured when he became President at our Manchester Conference in 1921. “We are the Royal Library Association”, he declared and should call ourselves that; haven't we a Royal Charter? Our recognition comes direct from the Sovereign”. No doubt a vain wish, although the Library Association seemed to come near it in 1950 when George VI graciously became its Patron and the Duke of Edinburgh its President. Since that date the engineers have become “royal”, but we have slipped back. When Her Majesty came to the Throne, the patronage her father had bestowed was refused, no doubt on the direct counsel of her advisers who would not want so young a Sovereign to assume too many offices. On that view librarians could not murmur. There is a future, however, and in it there will be a new Library Association House next to, almost conjoined with, a new National Central Library. King George V with Queen Mary opened the second, as is well remembered especially by the King's speech, one of the best, most useful, in library history, in which he described the N.C.L. as “a university that all might join and none need ever leave”—words that we hope may somewhere be displayed in, or on, the new N.C.L. building. Royalty and its interest in libraries has been again manifested in the opening last month (July 13th to be precise) by Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, of the new Central Public Library at Kensington. The Royal Family has close relations with Kensington of course. It is recalled, too, that the Manchester Central and that at Birkenhead were opened also by King George V and Queen Mary; and Queen Elizabeth II quite recently opened the Central Library of the re‐created city of Plymouth, the largest new town library since the Second World War. Kensington has now opened the first major London library since 1939. It is not modern in spirit externally and, as is known, is the work of the architect of the Manchester Reference Library, Mr. Vincent Harris, and there is no doubt about its dignity. Its interior methods are, however, quite modern; a few of them were broadcast to us for a few moments by the B.B.C. announcer, to the effect that there were 100,000 books, that returned books in the lending library were not discharged at the counter but slid down a chute to a room below where that was done, etc., with the remark that books not available in the public apartment could be requisitioned from other libraries but, with the large stocks on show and in the building, that did not seem to be very necessary. We sometimes wish that broadcasters, however well intentioned that may have been, knew something about libraries. Happening at about the same time was the removal of the Holborn Central Library stock to its new home in Theobald's Road, a complex process which Mr. Swift and his staff carried out in July without interrupting the public service. We hope that Mr. Swift will be able soon to tell us how he carried out this scheme. Thus has begun what we hope will be a process of replacing many other London libraries with modern buildings more worthy of the excellent work now being done in them.

The Chamberlain murder trial or ‘dingo case’ polarised the Australian community – the miscarriage of justice, the relentless media scrutiny and the mediaeval-style public condemnation of Lindy Chamberlain all exposed the prejudices of mainstream Australia. At the same time, Lindy Chamberlain experienced a groundswell of public support: the case was publicised around the world and generated local protest groups. This paper is concerned with re-thinking the historical effects of that case, and is theoretically informed by contemporary debates on the violence of the law, formations of public culture, and cultural trauma.

Under Anglo-American law, the consent of the masochist furnishes no defense to a charge of assault arising from sadomasochistic sexual practices. Our unwillingness to recognize consent in this context suggests disquiet with the ways in which S/M reflects the operations of law. Although the case law casts the masochist as a victim, other accounts represent masochism as a forceful enactment of submission. Masochism also challenges certain ideals of masculinity central to legal reason. Misgivings about the legitimacy of consent to S/M find a useful analogy in critiques of psychoanalytic treatment that understand consent in that context as irreducibly fraught.

The World Bank established the Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency (MIGA) in 1985 as the first truly global agency which insures foreign investments against political risks. MIGA is now in its fifth full year of operations and has been more successful than originally forecast. This paper will discuss the formation of MIGA and includes an analysis of its operations to date. When appropriate, comparisons will be made between MIGA operations and those of the U.S. investment insurance agency, OPIC, the Overseas Private Investment Company, as well as private market insurers. Selected cases of MIGA guarantees are discussed in the paper.

In this chapter, I examine stories that foster care youth tell to legislatures, courts, policymakers, and the public to influence policy decisions. The stories told by these children are analogized to victim truth testimony, analyzed as a therapeutic, procedural, and developmental process, and examined as a catalyst for systemic accountability and change. Youth stories take different forms and appear in different media: testimony in legislatures, courts, research surveys or studies; opinion editorials and interviews in newspapers or blog posts; digital stories on YouTube; and artistic expression. Lawyers often serve as conduits for youth storytelling, translating their clients’ stories to the public. Organized advocacy by youth also informs and animates policy development. One recent example fosters youth organizing to promote “normalcy” in child welfare practices in Florida, and in related federal legislation.