On 26 July 2012, the European Central Bank (ECB) issued a new currency, the “Draghi.” A country where the Draghi has the status of legal tender must be fabulously wealthy—a single coin gives unlimited purchasing power to its owner. This is one way to characterize ECB President Mario Draghi's pledge to do “whatever it takes” to save the Euro. It is widely believed that the move prevented the common currency from breaking apart. Yet, the ECB's resolve caused severe conflict within the European System of Central Banks (ESCB). A few weeks later, when the Governing Council of the ECB formally adopted the Outright Monetary Transactions (OMT) program to pave the way for the implementation of Draghi's rescue policy, the representative of the German Bundesbank was outvoted. Subsequently—in a maneuver quite unusual among central bankers—he appealed to the public to stir up support for his opposition to the policy.

Just before Christmas 2014, the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU or the Court) gave its long-awaited ruling on the European Union's accession to the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). This ruling, Opinion 2/13, is a complex judgment that raises many legal questions. This case comment sets out: A summary of the ruling; an assessment of the consequences of the ruling; and an initial critique of the Court's reasoning. On the latter point, the Court's ruling is fundamentally flawed. In short, the Court is seeking to protect the basic elements of EU law by disregarding the fundamental values upon which the Union was founded.

The phenomenon of regulatory competition, if it exists at all, has at least two prerequisites: On the “supply-side” there must be incentives for corporate law-makers to tailor their products according to the needs of those who decide about the place of incorporation (or re-incorporation). On the “demand-side”, there must be a real and not only a theoretical possibility to choose the applicable corporate law by choosing the place of (re-)incorporation. Whether such a possibility is a real or theoretical one primarily depends on the costs of such a move compared to its benefits. For the decision about the place of the real seat of a company, “good” or “bad” corporate law is only one factor, very often a minor one among other legal and factual determinants such as corporate and other taxes, labor and environmental law, the accessibility of raw material and product markets or the existence of qualified work force. As long as the choice of a certain corporate law is linked to the choice of the real seat of the corporation, freedom to choose the applicable corporate law only exists on a theoretical level. Corporate law can only be chosen as part of a much larger bundle. If, however, companies are able to opt for a corporate seat that is independent from its real seat (and hence at relatively low costs), the freedom to choose the applicable corporate law becomes a real one and that way the second prerequisite for regulatory competition mentioned above will be fulfilled.

European Union citizenship is derived from Member State nationality. This fact often has been considered a “birth defect” to be overcome by either disconnecting EU citizenship from Member State citizenship or by reversing the relationship in a federal model so that Member State citizenship would be derived from that of the Union. I argue in this essay that derivative citizenship in a union of states can be defended as a potentially stable and democratically attractive basic feature of the architecture of the EU polity where EU citizenship is perceived of as one layer in a multi-level model of democratic membership in a union of states such as the EU. This perspective is not a defense of the status quo, but rather allows for—or even requires—a series of reforms addressing a number of inconsistencies and democratic deficiencies in the current citizenship regime.

Most academics writing about Union citizenship tend to compare it to that which they know best: Nation State citizenship. It then comes as no surprise when they conclude that the current construction of EU citizenship is internally incoherent, externally not sufficiently inclusive, and also lacking in democratic legitimacy. To a certain degree, I agree with this criticism; however, such authors often apply the wrong standard of comparison and therefore are likely to promote faulty solutions. As the EU Treaties clearly have spelled out since the 1997 Treaty of Amsterdam, EU citizenship is complementary or additional to Member State nationality without replacing it. National citizenship is a constitutive element of EU citizenship and therefore cannot serve as an external standard of comparison.

Globalization has led to the emergence of broadcasting services and books aimed at a global audience. Authors of books, journals, and articles have gained readers worldwide. Due to the Internet, the spreading of ideas on a global level has never been easier. The other side of the coin is that authors run a risk of being exposed to civil proceedings in many jurisdictions. What is considered to be proactive journalism, or a provocative academic comment in some jurisdictions is considered to be libel or defamation in others. We speak of “libel tourism” when defamation proceedings are brought in a forum that has only vague connections to the case, but happens to be very plaintiff-friendly.

The theory of constitutional pluralism as advanced by MacCormick and Walker witnessed immense success in its attempt to explain the relationship between courts of Member States performing constitutional review and the Court of Justice. Despite its success, the theory has often been criticized for its lack of normative prescriptions and legal certainty in resolving the question of the final arbiter in the EU. It is the aim of this Article to address and move beyond these criticisms by introducing and exploring the auto-correct function necessary for the proper and balanced functioning of the pluralist system.

The auto-correct has the function of preventing an outbreak of conflict between the constitutional jurisdictions involved—in the EU judicial architecture, an awareness on the part of all the actors involved of the benefits of a pluralist setting results in conflict management and control. The auto-correct function operates as follows: in the EU as we know it, issues prone to constitutional conflict arise regularly, and both the Court of Justice and national constitutional jurisdictions are able, through their respective procedural avenues, to control the extent of the conflict. There are also two legal imperatives driving this dynamic in two opposite directions—the principle of primacy of Union law on the one hand, and the obligation to respect the national identity of Member States on the other.

As analyzing judicial behaviour shows, the application of self-restraint and mutual accommodation avoids a clash between parallel sovereignty claims on EU and national levels. In particular, national and EU law interaction demonstrates the existence of in-built conditions for the auto-correct function's application, such as the principle of EU-friendly interpretation in national constitutional law, or the national identity clause in primary EU law. The auto-correct function manifests itself and brings about a balance between the different constitutional orders only through the interaction of parallel claims to sovereignty.

Postcolonial India's modernist ambition to have a Uniform Civil Code, impressively written into Article 44 of the Indian Constitution of 1950 as a non-justiciable Directive Principle of State Policy, concerns not just an Indian problem but a universal predicament for lawyers and legal systems. What is the relationship between personal status laws and general state-made laws? To what extent should the formal law allow for, or seek to restrain, the legal implications of religious and socio-cultural diversity? To what extent does a state, whether secular or not, actually have power and legitimacy to decree and enforce legal uniformity? There are many more agendas at play here than simply the central issue of legal authority, focused on the power of the law, or simply “religion” v. “law”, or “culture” v. “law”, as we are often still led to believe.

The financial services industry is of central importance to the UK economy. It represents some 7% of GDP. It also generates major exports for the UK - in the region of one-third of UK financial services are exported to the EU. News reports in the immediate aftermath of the referendum result included the sharp drop in banking stocks; the overtures being made to attract UK financial business away from the City to other EU centres; and plans by leading financial institutions to move some operations away from the City. Vivid illustrations all of the importance of the Brexit vote for the City and the UK financial services industry.

This article suggests a tentative model for the legal conceptualization of the great variety of instruments by which international institutions exercise public authority, brought to light by the thematic studies of this project. If one were to display this variety of instruments on a scale that ranges from binding international law to non-legal instruments, hardly any thinkable step on this scale would remain empty. Situated at the top end of the scale one would find binding instruments such as international treaties, periodic treaty amendments, decisions on individual cases with binding effect or decisions having the potential to become binding by way of domestic recognition. While these instruments clearly have external legal effects, other instruments seem to be purely internal rules of procedure, although they have in fact considerable repercussions for national administrations. Next come various types of soft, i.e. non-binding legal instruments. Some of these instruments operate in the shadow of binding instruments. Others are kept in purely soft form, like product standards or codes of conduct, but also decisions concerning individuals. In the lower part of the scale one would find instruments containing non-binding rules that are foremost aimed at facilitating consultation, or soft private law instruments. At the bottom end one would discover non-legal instruments that are devoid of any deontic elements, but nevertheless have a high legal or political impact on the affected policy area. Examples of this class of instruments include factual assessment reports, indicators, reports on implementation and compliance, and databases.

One of the most famous scenes from the 1957 James Dean movie classic “Rebel Without a Cause” is the chicken run scene. Two cars are speeding towards an abyss; the one who slows down or jumps out of the car first loses. The chicken run in the movie ends in tragedy; when one of the protagonists finally tries to get out of his car, it is too late—he is caught in the car and dies.

The Court of Justice of the European Union (the Court of Justice) decided to strike again. On 18 December 2014, for the second time in history, the Court rejected the European Union's (EU) accession to the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). Although the judges do not seem to negate the idea as a matter of principle, they made the renegotiation of the Draft Accession Treaty very difficult, to say the least. The message sent by the Court of Justice to the Member States may have surprised some, but for many it was a rather expected development. The Court of Justice has always been a fierce defender and promoter of the autonomy of EU law. For that purpose, the procedure based on Article 218 (11) TFEU has been, among the others, the Court's greatest weapon. Over the years a clear pattern has emerged: Whenever there is a threat to the autonomy and to the Court's exclusive jurisdiction, the judges will not shy away from taking bold decisions going against the will of the Member States. For obvious reasons, the raison d'être behind the Court's decision is kept secret behind the doors of the deliberation rooms at Kirchberg in Luxembourg. Still, it cannot be denied that Opinion 2/13 shows that the Court of Justice will not give up its resistance to the ECHR accession so easily. In 1996, in Opinion 2/94, the Court held that the European Community, as the law stood then, had no competence to accede to ECHR. Now that Article 6(2) TEU provides for an obligation to accede, subject to conditions laid down in Protocol No 8 to the Founding Treaties, the Court has opted for strict interpretation of the latter, which, ultimately turns the caveats laid down therein into locks. It is clear that these caveats turned into locks are something that the judges will hold on to in the future and, by the same token, they will happily pursue interpretation that is very different from what the Member States intended when negotiating the Treaty of Lisbon and the Draft Accession Agreement.

As is well known, comparative law enters the curriculum normally only after some substantive law has been learned. The traditional approach first takes the law student's national legal system, with the comparison or foreign law element only coming later as a form of supplement to the standard curriculum. This paper offers some thoughts concerning the teaching and learning of law in a world in which pluralistic and/or transnational elements are commonplace. These plural features stem from the declining authority of the nation state as well as from the strengthening of various forms of sub-national law being in tension with the central system of the state. These developments also include growth of supranational or transnational legal regimes (e.g. EU). The growth of the significance of human rights, especially the considerable growth of the system of the European Convention on Human Rights, has caused national and international legal spheres to overlap. This paper is based on a belief according to which future legal education ought to respond more seriously to the globalisation of law. However, the argument here is preliminary and it offers merely a sketch of essential features with scarce details i.e. this paper is of a somewhat rough design. The theme itself, i.e. transnational law and its effects, is most certainly somewhat fashionable these days.

Article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code (TPC), much debated at both national and international levels, has recently been subject to an amendment aimed at clarifying its meaning and averting more distressing cases related to freedom of expression. It should be noted that the former article 301 was an amended version of article 159 of the former TPC of 1926. As Türkan Sancar rightly states in her comprehensive book on both articles 159 and 301, article 159 is an article which has been revised many times. It was amended seven times after coming into effect in 1926 (in 1936, 1938, 1946, 1961, twice in 2002, and 2003). The new TPC was introduced as a package of penal-law reform prior to the opening of negotiations for Turkish membership of the European Union, and came into effect on 1 June 2005. Article 301 stated the following:

1. 1. A person who publicly denigrates Turkishness, the Republic or the Grand National Assembly of Turkey, shall be sentenced a penalty of imprisonment for a term of six months to three years.

2. 2. A person who publicly denigrates the Government of the Republic of Turkey, the judicial bodies of the State, the military or security organizations, shall be sentenced to a penalty of imprisonment for a term of six months to two years.

3. 3. Where denigrating of Turkishness is committed by a Turkish citizen in another country, the penalty to be imposed shall be increased by one third.

4. 4. Expressions of thought intended to criticize shall not constitute a crime.

Legal certainty requires a balance between stability and flexibility. Following the hermeneutical footsteps of legal theorists such as Aulis Aarnio and Alexander Peczenik, a distinction can be made between formal and substantive legal certainty; between predictability and acceptability of legal decision-making. Formal legal certainty implies that laws and, in particular, adjudication must be predictable: laws must satisfy requirements of clarity, stability, and intelligibility so that those concerned can with relative accuracy calculate the legal consequences of their actions as well as the outcome of legal proceedings. Substantive legal certainty, then, is related to the rational acceptability of legal decision-making. In this sense, it is not sufficient that laws and adjudication are predictable: they must also be accepted by the legal community in question.

“Certainty is so essential, that law cannot even be just without it”, Francis Bacon once observed in the good old times. In the context of the general 20th century's trend from formal to substantive justice, however, policy objectives such as distributive justice, democratic political governance, or effective transnational regulation increasingly came to the focus of private law legislation. The rise of “consumerism” in contract law is the paradigmatic example of this development, which – at least from a German perspective – was triggered mainly by European measures on the harmonisation of private laws. While all intellectual capacities were absorbed by “regulating contracts” in the light of the new principle of “contractual solidarity”, the basic need of a legal system for overall consistency as a prerequisite for the administration of justice (“treating like cases alike”) obviously got out of sight. The critique with regard to pointillism and eclecticism in the European approach to private law harmonisation (“piecemeal legislation”), which lead to the patchwork character of the acquis communautaire, is a common place today, even within the European Commission. However, the conclusion, that has to be drawn, is not formulated straight forward: As consistency goes, arbitrariness comes, an inconsistent law is a contradictio in adjecto.

The system of German criminal law is the product of a centuries-long project of scientific discovery undertaken by scholars who traditionally have defined the science of criminal law (Strafrechtswissenschaft) in contradistinction to the markedly unscientific business of criminal justice policy (Kriminalpolitik). Insular and formalistic by design, the resulting highly differentiated taxonomy of doctrinal categories can claim only a loose connection to rules of positive law as codified in the general part of the German Criminal Code and instead derives more directly from scientific inquiries into the ontology of crime dating back to the early decades of the twentieth century.

The optimists amongst us assume that human hands — our hands — shape legal education, that legal education shapes the law, and that law shapes the world. The pessimists contend that the process works in reverse, that the forces of political economy ultimately have their way with law as a system of social ordering, as a cultural phenomenon and an intellectual enterprise, and as the subject or object of study in law schools. I am a pessimist by nature, so I will begin on a pessimistic note. However, I am trying to overcome my nature, so I will end on what, for me, is an optimistic one.

Botnia S.A./Metsä-Botnia Oy's construction of the Orion pulp mill in Uruguay raised concerns regarding violations of national, regional, and international law with regard to social and environmental protection. On 18 April 2006, the Center for Human Rights and Environment (CEDHA), an Argentinean non-governmental organisation, submitted to Finland's National Contact Point (NCP) a “specific instance” regarding the possible non-compliance of Botnia S.A. (a Finnish enterprise) with the OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises (OECD Guidelines for MNEs, Guidelines) when building the envisaged pulp mill in Uruguay. According to the Center for Human Rights and Environment, Botnia S.A. violated the OECD Guidelines for MNEs especially with respect to Chapter II “General Policies”, Chapter III “Disclosure”, Chapter V “Environment” and Chapter VI “Bribery”. Specific instances concerned with related issues were filed by the Center for Human Rights and Environment with the Swedish and Norwegian NCPs against Nordea, a leading financial services group of the Nordic and Baltic Sea area, for possible financing of Botnia S.A.'s pulp mill project and against the Finnish state bank Finnvera for providing export guarantees to Botnia S.A. Other fora that have in the meantime become involved in the issue are the International Court of Justice and member institutions of the World Bank Group, the International Finance Corporation and the Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency.

Since the global economic crisis began in 2007, the EU's response has been an attempt to muddle through, but it is generally recognized that more far-reaching changes to its structures are inevitable in the long term. One possible trajectory is towards disintegration; another is towards an increasingly “multi-speed” Europe—possibly accompanied by a splintering of the Eurozone whereby one or more smaller countries depart. A third possibility is closer union. Many would agree with the proposition that if destructive centrifugal forces are to be kept at bay, the next step for the EU must be political union, including a fiscal and transfer union—one that requires countries of the developed core supporting their brethren struggling at the periphery. Through this fraternal process, the EU will be able to achieve a new constitutional moment, a moment of refoundation in which its “social” soul is rediscovered. No longer will corporate lobbies be granted privileged access to the offices of Brussels. Powerful and democratically accountable institutions will be constructed, and geared around one of the EU's defining values: Solidarity.

Over the past decade and a half, private sector actors have developed innumerable environmental and social standards whose stated intention is to further global public interests, such as sustainable development in less developed countries (LDCs). While some authors have welcomed these standards as a means of addressing transnational problems that governments are ill-equipped to deal with, others argue that these standards often amount to little more than a public relations exercise, with private actors producing high-minded standards on paper but failing to enforce them in practice.