A legal theory, any legal theory, necessarily adopts one of two perspectives or vantages or points-of-view. The author of a legal theory may take up the internal, engaged vantage or the external, detached vantage. If he seeks to explore, say, how judges should decide hard cases then his theory, explicitly or implicitly, will adopt an internal participant’s perspective. Most likely, he will be putting himself in the shoes of the judge (or alternatively, asserting that we are all judges of a sort) in order to convince others of how best this role can be performed. Less likely, will be he who is a revolutionary and who thinks that the judge should decide cases in such a way as to contribute to the subversion of the legal system. In either event, both will be prescribing. Prescription, answering the ‘ought’ and the ‘should’, presupposes an involvement in the question and a concern with some evaluative dispute (though the revolutionary clearly does not accept the norms of his legal system as binding).

Legal positivism, like breakfast cereal, seems to come in a wide variety of brands, with modest variations in the ingredients. Each brand offers slightly different promises as to the benefits of choosing it over its competitors. The question for the tired morning consumer is whether anything important is at stake in the choice,’ or whether he or she should just choose whatever is handy or on sale that month. In this article, I will consider some of the debates within legal positivism, and some of the disputes between legal positivism and its critics, as a means of exploring some more general issues regarding the process of theorizing about law. In discussing the internal debates within legal positivism, I will focus on the debate between inclusive and exclusive forms of positivism, though there are numerous other, if lesser known, intra-group squabbles to be found, which are also of interest and warrant attention.

All positivists hold that law has social foundations. According to H.L.A. Hart, for example, the legal system rests on customary social norms followed by judges and other officials: norms that recognize other norms as belonging to the system and norms that provide for the application and alteration of the system’s primary norms. Even if this view requires amendment, it is likely any plausible account of the nature of law needs some account of social norms. Finding a fully satisfactory one, however, has proved surprisingly difficult.

No one familiar with Ronald Dworkin’s work can fail to be aware of his view that jurisprudence and law are both fundamentally enterprises of moral justification. Throughout his writings, Dworkin has resolutely set himself against the legal-positivist insistence on the separability of law and morality. The present essay critically explores the arguments and assumptions that underlie his stance.

Those employing constructive interpretive methods and coherence theorists of law generally agree that the coherent reconstructed set of legal principles and norms must meet a high threshold of fit with legal doctrine and institutional practice. Critics of these methods and theories argue that the high threshold of fit they require lead law to be unacceptably conservative. But it is unclear why legal coherentist methods and constructive interpretation must fit legal doctrine to a high degree. The intuition is misplaced from coherence theories of truth and justified belief, where a high threshold of fit with some set of beliefs is necessary. An independent argument is needed for that claim in law. I am unaware of any persuasive independent arguments for a requirement of a high threshold of fit in coherence theories of law. If coherentist methods in law need not fit the settled law to as high a degree as either their proponents or critics think, then they are in theory, and potentially in practice, morally better than their critics urge. However, they are also in practice potentially morally worse than their advocates or critics think. As a first crude approximation, we might claim that judges with superior moral acumen who deploy coherentist methods will do justice more often than if they were more tightly constrained to fit the settled law. Regrettably, however, if the constraint of fit is lower than the conventional wisdom would have it, coherentist judges with poor moral judgment will more often produce unjust decisions. I will qualify this crude approximation later.

Old wars about pornography and censorship have new armies in radical feminists. So Ronald Dworkin once remarked, defending the new relevance of his now classic liberal defense of free speech in his essay, ‘Do We Have a Right to Pornography?’ Dworkin was right about the new battles, but wrong about his argument, which on the new battle ground not only failed to justify the permissive conclusion he desired, but helped to justify the prohibitive conclusion he despised. Pornography’s traditional foes said pornography is immoral. Feminists said pornography is ‘the graphic, sexually explicit subordination of women through pictures or words’. Feminists said that pornography harms women, subordinates women, and silences women. In this context, Dworkin’s old anti-moralist defense of pornography missed its mark.

There are many versions of legal positivism; perhaps as many as there are legal positivists around. All the versions of legal positivism, however, subscribe to the so-called Separation Thesis. This thesis basically maintains that detenriining what the law is, does not necessarily, or conceptually, depend on moral or other evaluative considerations about what it ought to be in the relevant circumstances. Legal positivists differ, however, and quite substantially, over the appropriate interpretation of this thesis. The so-called ‘strong’, or ‘exclusive’ version of legal positivism maintains that moral considerations never determine the legal validity of norms. ‘Soft’ positivists, on the other hand, do maintain that there is a close relation between legal validity and morality, but they hold that this relation is, at best, a contingent matter; it does not derive from the nature of law or legal reasoning as such. Soft-positivists claim that moral considerations determine legal validity only in certain cases, namely, in those cases which follow from the rules of recognition that happen to prevail in a given legal system.

These are the best of times for the Rule of Law. In all parts of the world, states, governments, and individuals, have found in the rule of law, at various times, a rallying cry, a principle of social ordering that promises the dawn of a just society that its supporters in Euro-American democracies claim to be its crowning glory, or a set of practices that is a sine qua non of a good society. The pursuit of the ideal is nothing new: after all, even those states where it was observed more often in its breach always paid lip service to it. And the defunct socialist countries of Eastern Europe, while they existed, could not escape its lure even as they sought to give it a different nomenclature—socialist legality. The movement towards the rule of law has accelerated after the collapse of Soviet communism and its foster progeny in different parts of the world. Given the present momentum towards the rule of law and the widespread enthusiasm with which it is being embraced and pursued at the global level, some would consider it somewhat churlish for anyone to inject any note of doubt or caution. This is more so when such a note emanates from Marxist quarters. But that is precisely what I wish to do in this essay. Although I do not intend to rain on the rule of law’s entire parade, I surely propose to rain on a segment of it: the Marxist float. I propose to look at the issue within the context of the Marxist politico-philosophical tradition.

The essence of legal positivism, wrote H.L.A. Hart, is a very simple contention: “[I]t is in no sense a necessary truth that laws reproduce or satisfy certain demands of morality” (185-86).

It is tempting to treat this claim—which some have called “the separability thesis”—as a definitional truth about law, i.e., as a constraint on any adequate definition of the term “law.” On this understanding, the positivist maintains that one should not define “law" in a way that excludes some norms from the extension of this term simply because they do not reproduce or satisfy a particular moral demand. Similarly, on this understanding, one should not exclude a system of norms, S, from the extension of the term “legal system” on account of S’s failure to satisfy the demands of justice. Indeed, positivism entails not only that one should not exclude S on this ground, but also that the injustice of S is not even a reason for regarding S as a problematic or marginal or less-than-central case of “law.” The positivist holds that it is a mistake to build moral conditions into the definition of “law” in any way whatsoever.