We argue that topic-modeling, an unsupervised machine-learning technique for analysis of large corpora, can be a powerful tool for legal-historical research. We provide a non-technical introduction to topic-modeling driven by the presentation of an example of how researchers can use the data that topic-modeling produces. The context of the example is pre-industrial English caselaw on finance. We generate new insights on the timing of pertinent legal developments, the linkages of law on finance to other areas of law, and the relative importance of common-law and equity in the emergence of law and legal ideas relevant to finance. We argue that topic-modeling has the potential to bridge traditional legal history and economics, increasing the influence of the former on the latter, which is overdue. The output of topic-modeling includes the data required to generate a quantitative macroscopic overview of the flow of legal history. These data can be used in many ways in subsequent legal-historical research. Epistemologically, topic-modeling offers an escape from the temptations of Whig history and opens up new avenues for inductive analysis characteristic of traditional historical research.

This article traces how Ottoman interpretations and uses of Islamic law adapted to deal with non-Muslim rebellions between roughly 1769 and 1830. Drawing on Ottoman fatwas (legal opinions), bureaucratic registers, sultanic decrees, and chronicles, as well as British diplomatic records, it argues that the Ottoman state actively reinterpreted its commitment to the Islamic legal tradition in order to forge the law of rebellion into a weapon against both foreign and domestic enemies. The Ottomans first used declarations of rebellion to mobilize military forces against its imperial rivals, then to discourage and suppress domestic dissent, and finally to deny rebels’ sovereignty under international law. In doing so, the Sublime Porte effectively redefined sovereignty by interleaving Islamic and international concepts. The article places this development in global context, arguing that it resembled legal moves made by Atlantic states as they dealt with the Age of Revolutions. At the same time, this story shows how the Ottoman state’s commitment to Islamic law, and its employment of officially authorized scholars to interpret that law, could both license and constrain state policy. The Islamic legal tradition was flexible, but also meaningful. Interpretation occurred at different levels, and was done by different actors. While the state had significant latitude, it faced limits arising from the substance of the law and the process of interpretation itself.

As a form of social control, undercover tactics played an important state-building role during the Nineteenth Century, in both the United States and France. Yet undercover policing played this role very differently in France than in the US, which made do with a less developed surveillance capacity at all levels of government. The instability of successive French regimes encouraged French political authorities to expand their use of infiltration and to privilege high policing purposes of undercover tactics over the crime-fighting purposes favored by local elites. And while nineteenth-century France, like the United States, often governed through delegations of authority to local elites, French authorities jealously guarded undercover tactics as their exclusive prerogative. As a result, undercover tactics became a marginal crime-fighting tactic in nineteenth century France, becoming identified primarily with the state's surveillance of its political opponents. In the United States, by contrast, the private sector was able to deploy undercover tactics against suspected criminals, organized labor, political radicals, and purveyors of vice. Though the private sector readily accepted delegations from the public sector, the direction of influence also ran in the opposite direction, from the private sector to the state, as American private sector used undercover tactics to replace, bypass, and harness state institutions in ways that their French counterparts could not. In the United States, the private sector's use of undercover tactics came to shape public policing, as prominent detectives entered government and brought their tactics with them, and as Progressive era reformers took up the undercover tactics pioneered by private detectives, modeled them for the state through public-private partnership, and used them to set the anti-corruption, anti-radical, and anti-vice enforcement agenda of government. If French undercover tactics helped to build the French state from the inside out, by consolidating the state's hold over territory and attempting to control disorder and dissent, American undercover tactics became a vector of private sector influence that helped build the state from the outside in by shaping both investigative means and ends at all levels of government.

Weimar legal philosophy enjoyed a surprising prominence in religious kibbutzim. These were communities, established in Palestine/Israel, whose members attempted to create revolutionary utopian societies organized around the principles of socialism, Jewish nationalism, and Orthodox Jewish law. The kibbutzim existed under the shadow of a double crisis: the economic and social upheaval of the era, and the intellectual and spiritual challenge of synthesizing the diverse world views to which they were committed. Remarkably, the legal philosophy developed by the jurists of Weimar Germany – Hans Kelsen and Gustav Radbruch in particular – provided an intellectual framework by which the thinkers of the religious kibbutz navigated these crises.This article identifies references to Weimar jurisprudence in the discourse of the religious kibbutz, and addresses how and why kibbutz thinkers used it to think through issues that were so far removed from interwar Germany. It also expands our understanding of legal and historical phenomena in general, beyond the confines of the study of Israel or Judaism. It explores the ways that jurisprudence may be employed in religious and social thought. It also demonstrates how legal ideas flow along paths of immigration and intellectual exchange, how they can be applied by diverse actors in very different social circumstances, and how law and legal transplants operate, even outside the context of the state.

In December 1967, South African surgeon Christiaan Barnard astonished the world by becoming the first to successfully transplant a human heart. In the months that followed, a French Anti-Apartheid Committee proposed an international law to prohibit the harvest of prisoners' organs as French activists combined human rights and legal strategies to question the legality and ethics of Barnard's success. From a South Africa eager to present itself as modern and technologically advanced came an attempt to legislate use of organs from “living donors” in unspecified “authorized institutions.” In physicians' professional discussion of donor selection at an international heart transplantation symposium that Barnard convened in Cape Town, capital punishment figured as a proxy for race. Moving between South Africa, France and the United States, this article examines anti-apartheid activism, legislative innovation, and heart surgeons' attempts to normalize cerebral death and increase donors that followed the medical breakthrough in Cape Town, South Africa. It contributes to human rights history by showing how the French Anti-Apartheid Committee drew on transnational advocacy networks and legal strategies that predated the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, emphasizing collective over individual rights, deploying strategies of rupture, and actively pursuing a racially conscious, anticolonial solidarity.