Chapter 3 explores the final decades of the sixteenth century, a period of deep, overlapping, and abiding crisis for the New Kingdom as a result of the limitations and failures of colonial governance. At its core was the unravelling of the authority of Indigenous rulers, who were placed under unprecedented pressures by colonial authorities who misunderstood Indigenous politics with European legal and political concepts. Engrossed in increasing competition over the leadership of the colonial project, the second archbishop of Santafé, Luis Zapata de Cárdenas, and his civil counterparts tried to pursue increasingly belligerent policies to reform the lives of Indigenous people in the final decades of the century. Their rivalries, venality, and misunderstanding of local conditions and of the limitations of their own power eventually unleashed a brutal campaign of violence and dispossession on Indigenous communities in the late 1570s, with harrowing results. The blow this struck to Indigenous political structures, and through them to the colonial tributary and extractive economy, brought the kingdom to its knees.

Abolitionists adopted higher law to oppose the settled law which explicitly recognized chattel slavery in America. Emerson sometimes spoke on higher law but it was not his most comfortable position. Emerson was a Neoplatonist, and it is the gradualism of Neoplatonism that he embraced against the immediatism implied in higher law. But even before Emerson’s 1856 conversion to abolition, starting in 1854 Emerson began moving his self-reliance into Northern-reliance. He was working his way philosophically toward a political activism that he would, finally, enthusiastically embrace. Emerson borrowed from the Neoplatonist Plotinus the word and idea of living “amphibiously,” and that is what he learned to do.

This chapter explains how international society emerged and was globalised. Its main purpose is to explore how the European sovereign states-system expanded across the globe to become the truly international order of sovereign states that we see today. The first part of the chapter examines how the expansion of the states-system came about and how it has been analysed. The second part provides a critical discussion of how the spread of the states-system has been understood in IR. It aims provoke thinking about the enduring Eurocentrism that continues to bedevil our theorising of international politics.

Scheuerman engages with the right-wing mobilization of “Weimar lessons” in the context of the contemporary US political landscape. The chapter focuses specifically on how the political thought of German Jewish émigré political philosopher Leo Strauss was used by supporters of the Trump Administration in academic circles, based primarily at the Claremont Institute. The Weimar analogy has often been mobilized to highlight the dangers of antidemocratic political forces. The chapter, however, serves as a reminder that the redeployment of Weimar and stories about its legacy can be instrumentalized to serve authoritarian as well as anti-authoritarian purposes.

Chapter 4 surveys a wide range of friendly and hostile interstate relations in ancient societies, where war was often the normal state of affairs. Notwithstanding the numerous conflicts, polities tried in the end, through alliances and diplomatic relations, to establish peaceful relations in view of political stability and economic prosperity. The chapter analyses hospitality rules regarding foreigners, treaties between polities and the establishment of diplomatic relations, which emerged as an international system in the ancient Near East during the mid-fourteenth century bce. An alternative to diplomacy in conflict management, typical of the Greek world, was arbitration and mediation with the help of a third party. In a final section, the chapter outlines how states, when diplomacy failed, started a war procedurally. In conclusion, the chapter argues that, in the absence of an international court, the enforcement of diplomatic rules and treaties was in many ancient societies ensured by the supranational authority of the gods.

The Introduction establishes the topic of the book - the creation of states in international law - as well as the method adopted when investigating that topic. It argues that doctrinal debates over state creation have become deadlocked as a result of the prevailing method of 'legal positivism' and that this approach, which focuses exclusively upon the factual provenance of putative laws, should be abandoned. Advocating a form of 'rational reconstruction', whereby the normative appeal of putative laws must be assessed alongside their provenance within international legal practice, it connects this method of law identification to the earlier 'Grotian tradition' developed by scholars such as Hersch Lauterpacht. To aid readers who might be unfamiliar with the details of international legal reasoning, an extended summary of the legal framework endorsed by the text is then presented, followed by a brief overview of the structure of the argument to follow.

This chapter provides an overview of how the modern understanding of the norm against torture and inhuman and degrading treatment came to be and discusses its subsequent gradual transformation. Taking the Convention drafters’ stated intentions as a baseline, it traces the development of the norm through several landmark judgments. Relying on legal analysis, I note that the bounds of the norm against torture and inhuman or degrading treatment were initially limited in order to appease member states during the time of the old Court. Although the old Court had progressive instincts, it could not always act on them. It could expand the norm only when it was safe to do so – when the stakes were low and there was an emerging consensus around an issue. Such constraints influenced the way the norm against torture and inhuman or degrading treatment developed in the early days of the European human rights regime. However, despite such hesitations, the old Court made a colossal contribution to the norm’s evolution, planting the seeds of progress by introducing the living instrument principle in Tyrer v. the United Kingdom.

From 1764 to 1776, there was a political crisis regarding the authority of the British Parliament over America. Yet the British case for parliamentary sovereignty was not particularly clear, and by 1774, most Americans argued that Parliament had no authority over internal affairs in America. Even English politicians and lawyers, such William Pitt the Elder and Lord Camden, argued that Parliament had no ability to tax the American colonies. In 1776, the American colonies declared their independence and a war of independence ensued, that Britain lost. But what could explain this disagreement over sovereignty? This chapter looks to several factors for explanation. These include the fact of Britain’s uncodified Constitution, which rendered it unclear which laws were in any case ‘constitutional’. There was also disagreement as to how the British Constitution applied in the colonies. Many Americans asserted that only a shared monarch connected American colonies legally to Britain and to each other, and that colonial assemblies were comparable to Parliament. There was, however, no acceptance of this in Britain, where the doctrine of undivided and unlimited sovereignty was increasingly employed by those in power.

This chapter tries to give some first preliminary answers to the global surge of constitutions. Are they the result of a contingent development of human history and/or human thought? The breakthrough of Enlightenment and our better insight in the exigencies of natural law? Or are they rather the product of human evolution, human nature and social evolution? Or are they simply the by-product of something else (e.g. the democratic waves, or globalizing markets)?

Constitutional norms create an imagined world of law and political (leadership) order: a story spanning the gap between emotions, sentiments, and social order. Emotions and sentiments enable us to assess not only our physical environment and act accordingly, but also to vet our relationships with others, even to value our own thinking and conduct – that is, morality. This chapter demonstrates the role morality plays in constitutions and constitutional law. It lies at the heart of what we call natural law (pre-existing, prerequisites to law and constitutions), and the rules of recognition we use to decide whether law is actually and truly valid law. This natural law line of thinking is opposed to the positive law school of thought. The chapter ends with the question whether there is something like universal morality and whether constitutions are reflections of of basic morality.

This chapter sets the Laudian view of the Sabbath within their wider account of the feasts and festivals of the church and their account of the church’s capacity to constitute holy times as well as places. The Laudians’ opposition to puritan sabbatarianism is thus explained within their wider position, which enabled them to diminish the significance of the Sabbath attributed by the puritans as the only day marked down for worship by scripture, while simultaneously exalting the role and status of the other holy days denominated by the church, which were thus placed on an at least equal footing with the Sabbath. It was a position adumbrated in conscientious opposition to what was presented as the crude scripturalism and divisive effects of puritan sabbatarianism.

For Adam Smith, resentment is the natural passion we feel at experiencing or witnessing injustice and the basis for our natural sense of justice. Why does Smith restrict justifiable resentment to injustice given his seeming admission that we do naturally feel resentment beyond the case of injury? Smith never directly addresses why such resentments are inappropriate in The Theory of Moral Sentiments; we reconstruct a response drawn from his moral psychology. First, we explain the origins of Smith’s narrow view of justice. We then turn to Smith’s account of resentment, explaining its purpose as the natural motive for narrow justice, questioning the split between descriptive and normative resentment. We ultimately argue that resentment’s logical tie to punishment for Smith is necessary but insufficient, and that injury and resentment are separate conditions required to justify punishment. Finally, we reconstruct Smith’s normative justifications for severing the tie between improper resentments and punishment, driven by his claims about equal status and about sociability.

Grotius, Hobbes, and Pufendorf are canonical representatives of the early modern natural law tradition. In this chapter, we consider the tradition’s other two main figures: John Locke and Richard Cumberland. Locke is justly famous, of course, though more for his political philosophy and the more familiar topics in epistemology and metaphysics treated in the Essay Concerning Human Understanding than for his ethics. In his moral philosophy, however, he makes interesting connections between moral accountability and autonomy that provide an interesting point of contrast with Pufendorf. Cumberland is much less well known. However, Cumberland’s contemporaries saw him, along with Grotius and Pufendorf, as one of a “triumvirate of seventeenth-century founders of the ‘modern’ school of natural law” (Haakonssen). Moreover, Cumberland has special relevance to moral philosophy of the present day, since he was among the first to attempt to “locate” moral truths and facts in relation to, and perhaps reduce them to, those that are confirmable by the empirical sciences, a naturalist program that remains vital today. And he was also an important source of philosophical utilitarianism.