During a three-year panel study, the job aspirations of University of Denver law students changed so as to reduce the economic supply of public interest attorneys. Elementary economic theory suggests that this reduction in supply has an important impact on the size and quality of the public interest bar. Both demand and supply must be considered in attempts to increase the number and quality of public interest attorneys. Although this study does not attempt to explain the reasons for changes in students' job aspirations, reformers attempting to increase economic supply should not ignore the potential impact of legal education.

Today, the original indigenous peoples of Australia comprise but one percent of the total population, numbering less than a quarter million. Living in rural communities, religious reserves and shanty towns, the greatest number are found in Queensland. However, in the Northern Territory, the subject of The Yolngu and their Land, the Aborigines make up twenty-five percent of the population.

In the last issue of this journal I asked, “What has social science to offer law?” When asking the converse (what has law to offer social science?), there is a repeated need for definition and translation: What social science? What law?

When nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) encounter state resistance to human rights accountability, how do NGOs use international courts for their human rights advocacy strategies? Considering the overlapping phenomena of shrinking civic space within authoritarian, hybrid, and democratically backsliding regimes, and state backlash against international courts, NGOs navigate two potential levels of state backlash against human rights accountability. Building on the interdisciplinary scholarship on legal mobilization, we develop an integrated framework for explaining how states' two-level (domestic and international) backlash tactics can both promote and deter NGOs' strategic litigation at international human rights courts (IHRCs). States' backlash tactics can influence NGOs' opportunities, capacities, and goals for their human rights advocacy, and thus affect whether and how they pursue strategic litigation at IHRCs. We elucidate the value of this framework through case studies of NGOs' litigation against Tanzania at the African Court on Human and Peoples' Rights, an understudied IHRC. Drawing on an original data set, interviews, and documentation, we process-trace how Tanzania's various backlash tactics influenced whether and how NGOs litigated at the Court. Our framework and analysis show how state backlash against human rights accountability affects NGOs' mobilization at IHRCs and, relatedly, IHRCs' opportunities for influence.

The impact of what judges decide is a crucial part of what is studied by those sharing a political rather than only a legal perspective on the United States Supreme Court. It has become important as we have shifted our attention from “output, which is the decision of the Court including its orders and statement of policy” to consideration of “outcome, which is the final results or impact of output” (Barth, 1968: 315, note). This development is much more recent than the beginnings of the political perspective on the courts. Explicit attention to impact, backed by studies of impacts of particular decisions, is less than twenty years old, dating from the aftermath of Brown v. Board of Education (1954), which made political scientists aware that compliance with decisions of the Supreme Court was neither automatic, immediate, nor uniform. As Krislov (1963: 7) has remarked, from the standpoint of Court process, the decision in Brown v. Board of Education has had its greatest effect in educating “students as to the limits and operations of the court system generally.”

San Francisco's ethnic minorities tend to be clumped in relatively small areas, with the Negro population being concentrated in three main districts. This concentration of ethnic groups leads, of course, to racial imbalance in the schools, a problem which is most serious in the elementary schools. If one considers the four main groups of the city to be Negro, Oriental (which includes the city's small Japanese and Filipino population as well as the Chinese), Spanish white, and non-Spanish white, in 1964, 36 of the 96 elementary schools contained 90% or more of one group. Of these, nine were Negro, five Oriental, nineteen Spanish white, and three non-Spanish white. In the junior high schools there is less racial imbalance, but still some: in 1964 two schools were 80% and 61% Oriental; two were 86 and 83% Negro; and two were 85 and 72% white.

Schlegel is right. It is difficult to swallow the notion that twentieth century history began twenty years late. I agree that the central issue for legal historians is the growth of the nation state's apparatus. We should indeed be concerned with the regulation and direction of an economy. Yet my own preferred date for the beginning of twentieth century legal history is 1901. More precisely, I would pinpoint 2:15 A.M. on September 14, 1901, the morning Theodore Roosevelt became President (Pringle, 1956: 163).