“I like these songs more than all the rest, and you will come to like them as well,” Franz Schubert reportedly declared upon first singing through his haunting new song cycle Winterreise (D911) to a few close friends. The first half of the statement is remarkable given that by 1827, the year in which this intimate premiere took place, Schubert had already composed over 550 Lieder, including countless gems. His claim to prefer these “horrifying” new songs depicting a solitary wanderer’s alienation, disorientation, and despair suffered amidst a bleak, frigid landscape bespeaks a deep personal attachment to the cycle. Composing the work had been taxing, as indicated by the numerous cross-outs, rewritings, and insertions in portions of the autograph manuscript, and Schubert was plainly proud of his accomplishment. In asserting “I like these songs more than all the rest,” he may have intended to steer his friends toward a positive assessment of the cycle, to reassure them that it was not merely the regrettable creation of a disturbed mind.

Much has been said about legal positivism. Yet, given the lack of clarity as to what, exactly, it stands, or should stand, for, more is to be said, not only about what legal positivism is, or might be, and its different types but also about its different geographical traditions, central figures, fundamental tenets, meta-ethical underpinnings, if any, the problem of legal normativity considered within the framework of legal positivism, the value or disvalue of law positivistically conceived and of positivistic legal arrangements, and, of course, about the perceived problems of legal positivism, such as its alleged totalitarian implications. This is what this book does and this Introduction explains how. We attempt to provide a fuller and more adequate characterisation of legal positivism than just saying that legal positivists reject the view that there is a necessary connection between law and morality, and we identify certain important types of legal positivism. What is offered in this volume is a rather comprehensive and systematic discussion by experts in the field; this Introduction thus also illustrates the authors’ contributions to the various topics examined.

Patterson argues that Dworkin’s critique of legal positivism, specifically Dworkin’s critique of Hart’s positivist theory of law, went through two stages: first the critique put forward in Dworkin’s 1967 article ‘The Model of Rules’, which focused on the alleged inability of the rule of recognition to account for the existence of legal principles; then the criticism expressed in Law’s Empire concerning the alleged inability of the theory to account for the existence of so-called theoretical disagreement in law. Patterson’s conclusion, however, is that although Dworkin in his mature critique made a number of valid points, such as identifying the lack of a thought-out view on legal interpretation in Hart’s legal philosophy, he ultimately failed to undermine Hart’s theory. As Patterson sees it, although legal positivists lack a thought-out view of legal interpretation, there is nothing in the theory of legal positivism that stops them from developing such a theory, and he suggests three crucial criteria that a positivist theory of legal interpretation must satisfy, namely, minimal mutilation of existing law, coherence, and generality.

This chapter explores the psychological significance of Die Winterreise from two directions. Examining the birth of psychology as an academic field, particularly in Germany, David Romand finds only limited connection to Die Winterreise, while Lisa Feurzeig finds many links to Müller’s cycle in more popular, less academic pursuits of the time.

Dyzenhaus argues that Hart’s defence of legal positivism fails because Hart cannot without contradiction espouse both the claim that there is no necessary connection between law and morality and the claim that law has authority, that is, Herrschaft, not mere Macht. Moreover, in combination, the two claims result in what Spanish-speaking legal scholars have referred to as ideological positivism. Dyzenhaus argues, more specifically, that although Hart argued that legal positivism in the shape of the separation thesis is conducive to clear thinking and facilitates critical assessment of the law, his failure to follow through on his insights about the authority of law leads to a theory of law that is not free from the undesirable political (theoretical) consequences associated with totalitarianism, alleged by several critics of positivism.

In Schubert’s time, musical and cultural life developed in an exciting way, shifting from the private to the public sphere. Simultaneously, a new type of musician emerged who was no longer sustained by the aristocracy or the court, but was a socially independent, freelance artist who made his living solely by giving concerts, getting commissions, and selling his published music. Franz Schubert was one of the first composers who lived such a life. He was successful in doing this and made a career in a place that is still known as the “City of Music.”

Taking the essential thesis of legal positivism to be that all law is positive law, that all law has sources, Green considers the relationships between legal positivism and ‘its closest cousin’, legal realism, focusing mainly on American legal realism. He looks at why legal realists disagree with legal positivists about the role of legal rules in explaining judicial decision-making. Noting that positivists and realists agree that law is constituted by social facts, that judges sometimes make law, and that law is morally fallible, he locates the point of disagreement in their different understandings of the boundary-lines between law and non-law. Green’s idea is that, unlike positivists, realists believe that a significant number of sources of law are only permissive sources – i.e. sources which judges are permitted, but not required, to use. These can sometimes be outweighed by considerations of policy, justice or the equities of the case, etc., which explains why realists can hold that law is so indeterminate as to undermine the causal efficacy of legal rules, while sharing the positivist view that all law has sources.

‘It should never be forgotten that the prophetic demand was religious, and that it sprang from the conception of God’. This essay aims to explore the relationship between religion and ethics, arguing that the ethical appeals in Isaiah were based on and prompted by largely the same conception of God and of religion as appear in the priestly literature of the Pentateuch. First, we sketch from the priestly sources the essence and the interrelatedness of certain key concepts, namely, rituals, holiness, and (im)purity. Second, we investigate the relationship of these concepts to ideas expressed in Isaiah.

With few historical exceptions, it has been men who have initiated and fought in wars. Women keep the home fires burning, unless the fight reaches the home front, in which case they could become victims or casualties. With such historical tendencies acknowledged, the days of two clearly delineated, uniformed armies lining up and charging at each other are largely past, yielding to forms of combat where the distinction between combatant and civilian is often ambiguous. These changes have increased the dangers of war for women and children. While they still rarely fight in combat, they are often in the line of fire and may be viewed as legitimate collateral damage or as enemies to be conquered.

Divine justice is a given throughout the Bible. The psalmists celebrate God’s rule over the cosmos, emphasizing that “justice and rectitude” form the firm base of the divine throne (Pss 89:15 [14]; 97:2). This sovereign “loves justice” (33:5; 37:28) and performs it (9:5 [4]; 99:4). God is renowned for the exercise of justice (Deut 32:3–4; Pss 9:17 [16]; 36:7). The world is “firmly established” because God “judges with equity” (Ps 96:10). Indeed, the earth’s stability depends on divine justice (58:2–3), and its foundations are shaken when that justice is lacking (75:3–4 [2–3]).