In 1920 James Brown Scott, the celebrated teacher, international law scholar and practitioner, published his pioneering book The United States of America: A Study in International Organization. His underlying thesis was that the historic evolution of the United States provided a model for the development of international organizations in which local sovereignty and autonomy are preserved but “a more perfect union” is sought. Scott made the distinction that the delegates to the Federal Convention of 1787 did not merge the States in a union, “but formed a union of States.” One of Scott's goals was to provide the delegates who would be convening at The Hague the imagination to consider a “Society of Nations” as a frame of reference that could guide their post-Great War deliberations. As he said:

On the Sunday following the attacks of September 11, 2001, millions of Americans crowded into churches, synagogues and mosques around the country. They came in record numbers, seeking consolation, reassurance and understanding—a framework for processing what was for most a ghastly, unprecedented and utterly incomprehensible event. The religious leaders that greeted them that Sunday would play a seminal role as mediators—strategically situated between the political and media-dominated reactions to the attacks and congregants desperately seeking clarity amidst the smoke, rubble and devastation of that day.

In the weeks following 911, my family and I visited one such Protestant church, the kind of Black church that sociologists of Black religion now call the Mega-Church, located in one of America's most thriving metropolitan areas and boasting a congregation of well over 10,000 members. The sanctuary was a scaled down version of a large arena with balcony and mezzanine seating. Flanking each side of the stage/pulpit were cinematic screens projecting images of an American flag swaying gently in the wind and a choir singing its “Mormon Tabernacle” rendition of “America the Beautiful.”

Professor Derrick Bell's story, The Space Traders, posits that extraterrestrial beings arrive in the United States to propose a Trade: they will provide the means to enable the country to pay its debts, protect its environment, and ensure its energy supply, all in exchange for only one thing—to take all African Americans back to the aliens' home star. The story then recounts a frenzied sixteen days of politics, protests, and legal maneuvering, resulting in the forced deportation to an unknown fate of twenty million black men, women, and children: “Heads bowed, arms now linked by slender chains, black people left the New World as their forebears had arrived.”

This Article will consider several issues suggested by Bell's story. If one assumes that some readers would approve and others would disapprove of how the African Americans were treated, what might one say about the differing views? Are they simply different in the same way that one person might vacation in San Francisco while another person chooses New York City? Or is it possible to say that one view is wrong? And if one view is said to be wrong, is the meaning that the view actually is wrong or merely that it is wrong in the opinion of the person speaking? And even if every single person agrees as to whether or not the Trade should have been made, does this show that the consensus view is actually right? Are there any circumstances under which one could conclude that what was done was right or wrong in an absolute sense?

To even begin suggesting that a natural law tradition exists in Islamic law, one has to overcome the hurdles set by those who avowedly deny that such a tradition exists. Respected Islamicists such as Patricia Crone and the late George Makdisi have stated in no uncertain terms that there is no natural law tradition in Islam. Presumably what they mean by this claim is that there is no “orthodox” tradition whereby premodern Muslims (e.g. ca. ninth-sixteenth century CE) allowed human beings to speak on behalf of the divine without recourse to scripture. Reason does not assume any ontological authority akin to that of scripture that would justify using it as a basis for finding, determining and constructing obligations that emanate from the divine.

In a sense, they are right. The dominant Positivist thesis, as expressed in premodern usul al-fiqh or legal theory, holds that where there is no scripture on a matter, one is left in a state of legal suspension (tawaqquf); there is no epistemically coherent way to determine the divine law on that matter, and consequently no one is in a sufficient epistemic position to attribute to God a ruling of any normative force. Fundamentally, this position enshrines within Islamic law a strict scriptural positivism. Jurists argued that all determinations of God's law must find expression, either directly or indirectly, from scripture. Extrascriptural indices, whether in the form of rational proofs or references to nature, do not provide a proper basis or foundation for asserting the divine law.

One scholar marks postmodernism's birth with the demolition of a housing project that had been designed with the best principles enlightened science and architecture had to offer. Residents found it uninhabitable. Local government found it impossible to police. What had once been heralded as a magnificent achievement and a boon to the poor ended as a pile of rubble.

Another author claims postmodernism was born when the Berlin Wall fell under the picks and hammers of those who had been hemmed in by the “scientific” ideology it stood for as well as the real blocks and mortar that long separated East and West. When the wall fell, the regime founded on an explicit effort to shed the confines of religion and custom for revolutionary reason did not take long to die. The age of the totalitarian secular orthodoxy died with it.

On January 27, 2003, amid much publicity, a path-breaking agreement was signed between the Federal Republic of Germany and the Central Council of Jews in Germany. The historical background to, and the historic nature of, such an agreement needs no explanation. This agreement is worthy of scholarly review not only because of the manner in which the agreement came about, its provisions, and its place in the German legal system, but also because of critical assumptions it makes about what it means to be Jewish from the perspective of a modern secular nation-state attempting to respond to the aftermath of the Holocaust.

Because it sheds light on the difficulty of framing Jewish identity for purposes of secular law, however, I will first evaluate litigation currently in progress under a different but related agreement with the German State of Saxony-Anhalt. This litigation was brought by a liberal Jewish religious community that claims it has been unjustly excluded from the distribution of state subsidies made available to Jewish organizations under an agreement between that State and the Central Council of Jews. The litigation forces answers to difficult questions: what is the legal status of such agreements, who has the right to decide who counts as Jewish under them, and who speaks for the Jewish community in Germany?

Since the mid-1990s the debate over the teaching of evolution in public schools has acquired new life, largely as a result of a new generation of critics of evolution. In comparison to their predecessors, today's critics are better credentialed, have published works with respected academic and university presses and periodicals including peer-reviewed ones, and offer much more sophisticated arguments. The purpose of this essay, however, is not to engage the scientific merits of the arguments offered by these maverick scholars. Rather, the purpose of this essay is to explore a problem of jurisprudence, raised by philosopher Alvin Plantinga and responded to by philosopher of science Robert T. Pennock, whose resolution has relevance to the constitutional question of whether the teaching of evolution along with the works of its critics is permissible in a society whose citizens embrace contrary philosophical and religious points of view.

If one might be permitted a somewhat reductionist synoptic contrast between the three Abrahamic religions, Islam could perhaps be placed midway between what might be termed a legalistic Judaism and a theological Christianity. That is because it is a virtually unquestioned assumption in modern Islam that theology and legal reasoning in Islam are permissible only to ascertain God’s will expressed in the Qur'ān and the Sunnah. In other words, generally accepted Islamic scholarship holds that these primary sources constitute the authentic and foundational sources of law and religious and legal practice are organically linked to them. Thus, it is widely accepted that no human jurisprudential innovation that explicitly contradicts the Qur'ān and the Sunnah has ever managed to be incorporated into the body of literature that governs Muslims' practices and worship.

Anyone engaging in proselytization shall be liable to imprisonment and a fine of between 1,000 and 50,000 drachmas; he shall, moreover, be subject to police supervision for a period of between six months and one year to be fixed by the court when convicting the offender.

By “proselytization” is meant, in particular, any direct or indirect attempt to intrude on the religious beliefs of a person of a different religious persuasion (eterodoxos), with the aim of undermining those beliefs, either by any kind of inducement or promise of an inducement or moral support or material assistance, or by fraudulent means or by taking advantage of the other person’s inexperience, trust, need, low intellect or naivete.

The commission of such an offence in a school or other educational establishment or philanthropic institution shall constitute a particularly aggravating circumstance.”

Suppose for a moment that you have been wrestling with the question of religious liberty in American history and contemporary life. You begin to see that it is a multi-layered concept, not easily captured in one attempt. Suppose further, then, that you could gather together in one place some of the people who have made a significant contribution to the discussion. Who would you invite to speak? How would they respond to each other? In light of what they said, how willing would you be to re-examine your own assumptions, your most cherished conclusions?

In a dream, anything can happen. The most unlikely people may find themselves in agreement, while longtime friends may find themselves at odds with one another. Our interlocutors might be acquainted with unfolding events beyond the boundaries of their historical careers, or they might confess that their knowledge is still limited to their own historical horizon …

The belief exists among certain circles that arguments based on religious convictions are innately flawed. At a minimum those who accept this doctrine believe that religious arguments are improper and should be avoided or go unheeded; at the extreme they propose a reworking of legal and social principles to exclude religious arguments. This article will discuss two arguments frequently advanced as evidence of the unacceptability of religious arguments in the United States of America and, after a short exposition of each position, will engage in a critical examination of the theories. This is a theoretical exercise and, as such, will not involve the separate question of what actual legal limits may or may not exist on the inclusion of religious arguments.

According to one study, between 1975 and 1995, an estimated one hundred seventy-two (172) children died after their parents rejected medical care on religious grounds. Of these children, one hundred forty (140) suffered conditions for which survival rates exceeded ninety percent, if there had been timely medical intervention; and eighteen more could have survived at a rate exceeding fifty percent. Parents belonging to five churches that practice faith or spiritual healing methods accounted for eighty-three percent of these child deaths: the Indiana-based Faith Assembly, Christian Science Church, Church of the First Born in the Western states, Faith Tabernacle of Philadelphia, and the End Time Ministry of South Dakota. This survey did not include the seventy-eight child deaths reported in Oregon from 1955-98 or the twelve deaths in Idaho between 1980-98, resulting from faith healing practices that occurred within the Oregon-based Followers of Christ Church; of the Oregon children, probably twenty-one could have lived if they had received medical treatment, according to reporters from The Oregonian.

Increasingly, the historical significance of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) is becoming globally apparent. Within South Africa, debate about this imperfect but undeniably productive, transformative institution continues, long after the TRC formally shut its doors. The design of the many truth-seeking, reconciliatory mechanisms to emerge in Africa and elsewhere in recent years has been informed by comparative discussion in which the South African experience features prominently.

The TRC has been viewed as a groundbreaking confrontation with the challenges facing any transitional society: to discover the truth about the past, to account for it in ways that promote justice, and to develop reconciliation strategies that enable previously divided people to look forward, together. It represents an historic moment in which humane ways of dealing with an atrocious past have been cultivated.

This article is the first essay of a series on the interplay between dominant thought and Latino issues. It focuses on critical social justice through an exploration of the phenomenon of the sixteenth century apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe to an Amerindian, Juan Diego. It is dedicated to la Virgencita, and its goals are to elucidate some personal challenges for all professionals, especially those who are “other,” through a critical analysis of the story of the dark skinned Madonna; to draw an understanding of how dominance affects society; and to suggest conclusions concerning the role of a law school wishing to be friendly to Latinas/os, and/or one dedicated to Mary.

There are three popular schools of thought about the origins of the phenomena of the Virgen de Guadalupe. One is that the autochthonous people invented her in order to facilitate the continuation of their devotion to the goddess Tonantzín. Another is that the Spaniards invented her in order to reach the autochthonous population who had largely resisted conversion before the apparition.