Emerging critiques of mainstream accounts of secularism reveal the imbrication of the sacred and the secular in ‘secular’ states. In the context of colonial Northern Nigeria, this sacred-secular entanglement, which took the form of the co-option of Islam for the colonial ‘secular’ enterprise, did not leave Islam unchanged. Co-opting Islam for the colonial project necessitated the making of an Islamic Law amenable to the colonial state. With a focus on criminal law, this article narrates the making of a British Colonial Islamic law in Northern Nigeria through the unprecedented expansion of siyasa. Departing from orthodox accounts of Islamic law's reification in colonial Northern Nigeria and heterodox assertions of its erosion by the colonial state, this article argues that neither the reification nor the erosion accounts illuminates the relationship between the colonial state and Islamic law. To show how the colonial state could assert secularism while co-opting Islam, this article presents a narrative of reform that foregrounds the following questions: Who had (and exercised) the power to decide what Islamic law was? How was the exercise of this power justified? How did the exercise of this power fit with the broader colonial project of governing religious difference? What were the consequences of these processes for Islamic law, institutions and colonial subjects?

This paper suggests the use of cultural expertise as encompassing concept that can account for the natural cultural competence developed in Iran. In earlier times, Zoroastrian law was first based on religious norms and the primary theological division between sins and offenses. Iranians had to adapt to different legal systems: customary law, religious law and secular law. Priests, jurists, judges, officials and translators were the main cultural “experts” and mediators between the people and the normative institutions. The introduction of imami legal theories and jurisprudence in the 16th century together with the reinforcement of the secular political power engaged Iran in a stabilized judicial context ruled by shiʿi scholars, qāzis and mujtahids. In 1919, as a consequence of the new French inspired Constitution, the Ministry of Justice, in order to train a new generation of judges, magistrates and justice personnel, set up a law school. Professors, who can be considered as cultural experts, contributed to the acculturation process initiated in the judicial system. Examples of his continuous struggle are recounted in Ostad Elahi's (1895-1974) memoirs, relating the difficulty Iranians had to accept the change, both cultural and psychological, initiated by the modernization and westernization program put into operation (1911-1935).

This article examines a campaign of jury intimidation conducted by female Republicans in the Irish Free State from 1926 to 1934. It discusses the rationale, logistics and key personalities of the campaign, as well as the policing, prosecutorial and legislative responses to it. The article demonstrates that a small number of women disrupted the administration of justice and generated a significant amount of publicity for their actions, not only in Ireland but also in the British press. In-depth consideration of this overlooked campaign brings issues of gender, state legitimacy, subversive activity and the vulnerability of the jury system into sharp relief.

Scott gives us an expansive and critically important way of thinking about the ways in which former slaves and formerly free black people like Ransier, Bowers, Holmes, and the men and women of Front Street Church, understood the meaning of freedom and confronted the “all de day and every day” dignitary offenses they faced in the courts, on sidewalks, on public conveyances, in public places of amusement and houses of worship, and in their daily work and family lives. Her account of the response of cosmopolitan activists and lawmakers In New Orleans has tremendous implications for the struggle elsewhere. The concept of “public rights” that activists in Louisiana located in a “claim to respect in the activities of a shared and social ‘common life,’” excited the cause throughout the South.

This paper relies on the narrative of a renowned historian of Qing law from China mainland who has been called by Hong Kong High Court in 2007, to witness as an expert in “Chinese customary law.” At the opening of the trial, he recognized one well-known and estimated colleague from Taiwan in the expert engaged by the other party. During one week, these two legal historians called up a vast array of knowledge in Chinese history, culture, and law, to ensure the triumph of their party. The contest opposed the representatives of two branches of a same lineage who claimed their right to manage the lineage common wealth. As both were collaterals with dubious link with the original lineage, experts engaged in sophisticated arguments to make their cause prevail. Successively were adduced lineage registers the tabooing of fathers and emperors' personal name in the Chinese tradition, the degree of kinships as represented by “mourning charts” included in the Qing penal code. Even though it was “privately settled” before any judicial decision, this case raises questions on the very nature of “Chinese customary law”, and the role of “cultural expertise” at Common law in a Chinese environment.

This article adds to the growing literature about how the Supreme Court's decisions in the Insular Cases affected the residents of the U.S. territories. It focuses on the territory of Guam, which lacked juries in both criminal and civil trials until 1956–nearly sixty years after the island became a U.S. possession. Residents of Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and the Virgin Islands had limited jury trials, but Guam was left out due to its strategic military significance as well as racialized ideas about the capabilities of Chamorros, the native inhabitants of the island. This article recovers the struggle by Guamanians to gain jury trials. It argues that independence movements, like those in the Philippines and Puerto Rico, were not the only forms of resistance to American empire. Through petitions, court challenges, and other forms of activism, Guamanians pushed for jury trials as a way to assert local agency and engage in participatory democracy. For them, the Insular Cases were not just abstract rulings about whether the Constitution followed the flag; they deeply affected the administration of justice on the ground for ordinary Guamanians.

In this essay I consider why debates over applying anti-discrimination norms to public accommodations have long been, and remain today, such a resilient presence in the history of the United States. I use as my starting point the most famous iteration of this phenomenon, the national debate sparked by the 1960 sit-in movement and culminating in the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which banned racial discrimination in public accommodations across the nation. The battle over racial discrimination and public accommodations in the early 1960s illuminates the moral issue at the heart of the issue, the lines of argument that characterize the debate over how to define legal rights in this area, and the ways in which different legal institutions have resolved, or failed to resolve, the issue. I then move backward time, highlighting the continuities between this episode and the struggle over race and public accommodations during Reconstruction. The history of the civil rights era provides a useful framework to analyze the terms of debate from a century earlier, and it provides particular insights into the significance of the concept of public rights that Rebecca Scott has so effectively brought to our attention.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, a small group of antiapartheid activists, led by the American Committee on Africa and chair of the House Subcommittee on Africa Rep. Charles Diggs Jr., launched a campaign against South African Airways' new flights into the United States. Using the legal and political strategies of the American civil rights movement, and the fragmentation of power within the American political system, activists tried to turn South African apartheid into an American civil rights problem that American government institutions could address. The strategy was indebted to the political and legal strategies of the civil rights movement, but framing demands around existing civil rights law necessarily limited what activists could ask for and what domestic institutions could provide. In practice, the campaign's successes were limited and legalistic; where domestic civil rights law directly conflicted with apartheid law, airlines could comply with the former without really challenging the latter. And the foreign policy context meant more failures than successes, as domestic legal institutions were reluctant to involve themselves with foreign policy concerns. Their successes and failures nonetheless tell us much about legal mobilization and institutional behavior in a period of globalization where sovereignty and jurisdictional lines were overlapping and conflicting.

Scott focuses on the conflicts in the state of Louisiana over a provision in the post-Civil War Louisiana Constitution of 1868 that guaranteed “public rights” to all regardless of race. While we still live with shockingly high levels of racial discrimination in public accommodations, front and center today are claims that the Constitution's guarantee of religious liberty requires exemptions from state laws that prohibit discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. To understand the historical context within which we confront this issue today, it will help to understand how public accommodations law has changed over time through the course of United States history.

Since 1989, cultural expertise has emerged as a crucial factor in navigating Poland's communist past. The use of cultural expertise provided by historians was institutionalized in 1999, when the Institute of National Remembrance was created and charged with prosecuting Nazi and communist crimes, as well as assisting with the belated decommunization. Expert historians are requested by courts and other institutions to provide opinions in cases ranging from alleged collaboration with communist secret services, withdrawal of veteran status bestowed to soldiers of communist military units fighting the Polish resistance movement, awarding compensation to victims of German concentration and labour camps, to changing names of places named after prominent Party activists. Using this expertise requires the courts to understand the intricacies of recent Polish history, such as the operational methodology and archival practices of communist secret services, or the complex interplay of motives to collaborate (or not) with foreign oppressors. In this paper, the new salience of historical expertise for the Polish courts is analysed within the framework of Honneth's (1995) ‘struggle for recognition’ and Haldemann's (2008) work on the symbolic role of courts in transitional justice contexts.

In this brief reconsideration of the roles experts may play in legal proceedings - and concentrating on the role of social scientists in particular - it may, therefore, be useful to revisit some very familiar issues and to address some seemingly peripheral matters that are nevertheless quite central to the way we think about the involvement of experts in legal cases. For purposes of introducing some of these issues it may be helpful to focus on three interrelated concerns: the ascertaining of expert qualifications, the role of evidentiary procedure, and the extra-judicial use of social information.

Fifty-seven men of color were sentenced to death by the courts of England and Wales in the twentieth century and were less likely to receive mercy than white contemporaries. Though shocking, the data is perhaps unsurprising considering institutional racism and unequal access to justice widely highlighted by criminologists since the 1970s. We find discourses of racial difference were frequently mobilized tactically in nineteenth- and twentieth-century England and Wales: to support arguments for mercy and attempt to save prisoners from the gallows. Scholars have identified historically and culturally contingent narratives traditionally deployed to speak to notions of lesser culpability. These mercy narratives reveal contemporary ideals and attitudes to gender or class. This article is original in identifying strategic mercy narratives told in twentieth-century England and Wales that called on contemporary tropes about defendants' race. The narratives and cases we explore suggest contemporary racism in the criminal justice system of England and Wales has a longer history than previously acknowledged.

In this comment on the special issue, Burton situates the essays in the scholarship of 1980s and 1990s as well as very recent scholarship on age of consent laws. She notes patterns — including processes of abstraction and transnational circulation — that shaped the cases gathered here. She points as well to the stakes of prioritizing gender and conjugality in scholarship on legal imperial regimes of all kinds.