Reflection on the law gives rise to many methodological questions. Some relate to legal doctrines – how best to understand, rationalise and potentially justify areas such as contract law or administrative law or criminal procedure. This chapter, by contrast, will focus on the question of how to understand ‘law in general’, or the ‘nature of law’. Law in this sense is standardly regarded as a particular type of social practice with two dimensions: an institutional dimension involving bodies such as legislatures and courts, and a normative dimension involving the standards and other considerations created and applied by those bodies (‘the law’). How should we go about making sense of this social practice? In what way should it be approached? There are three prominent features of our contemporary understanding of law that feed into the methodological debate: (a) the idea that law is a general type of social practice, found in different cultures at different times; (b) the idea that law is a social construction, whose existence depends upon the combined beliefs and actions of a variety of social actors; and (c) the idea that law is a hermeneutic practice, that is, a practice that we self-consciously understand as a distinctive sort of social practice, and in terms of which we understand and structure features of our social world.

Constitutional law is a sprawling subject, encompassing many topics of legal–philosophical interest. This chapter addresses several of the most fundamental and widely discussed issues, organised into three clusters. First, what is constitutional law and what are its necessary or central features or functions? Second, what is the proper role for the judiciary in enforcing constitutional law? Third, how should constitutions be interpreted? Under these headings, the chapter examines, among other things: the puzzle of ‘unwritten’ constitutions, differences between constitutional ‘conventions’ and constitutional law, and the relationship between theories of constitutional interpretation and general jurisprudential accounts of the nature or contents of law. Most issues that especially concern constitutional rights lie beyond the scope of this chapter.

Is social science a large part, a small part or no part of the philosophy of law? The question is important, and its importance is highlighted, perhaps ironically, in a strong, unqualified and prominent assertion by Joseph Raz. ‘The sociology of law’, Raz says, ‘provides a wealth of detailed information and analysis of the functions of law in some particular societies. Legal philosophy has to be content with those few features which all legal systems necessarily possess.’1

This essay provides a typology of different ‘Pauls’ in the early centuries (P, HP, HEP, PACTS, CanP), all of which may in some sense be rooted in the inheritance of the genuine letters (HEP), but are interpreted and reshaped in a variety of ways according to the needs, purposes, contexts and talents of early interpreters.  It identifies the key elements, practical, technological, bibliographic and hermeneutical, that shaped the interpretation of ‘Paul’ in the early church and enduringly throughout the history of Pauline interpretation that was to follow.

As human beings we seek to live well, to lead lives that are rich, meaningful, genuinely worth living (as we sometimes put it). We are bound to do so by the very terms of our existence. This sense of basic purpose, of what fundamentally animates us, is not some function of the human condition, or of its capacity for reflection and action, though it may sometimes seem that way, but on the contrary, extends to everything that can be said to have an existence, whether that be other animals, other living organisms, or even those features of the world, such as rocks and waterfalls, that flourish or fail to flourish, have worth or fail to have worth, despite the fact that they themselves play no active role, whether deliberative or otherwise, in securing either their flourishing or their worth.1 That said, as human beings we have a distinctive, some might call it a special, relationship to this shared purpose, one that is born of our distinctive capacity to perceive and to discharge the many and complex responsibilities of living well. So living well is a human project but not merely a human project.

Parallels between Galatians and Romans offer enlightening surprises. Focal passages on the Law’s inability to provide righteousness without "trust of Christ" (Gal 2.15-21; Rom 3.19-31) are followed by extended arguments about Abraham and the identity of the people of God, then by explanations of the communal life of love that fulfils the Law.

What makes a right a human right? If we were to start in the realm of positive law, we might define human rights more or less by ostension. They are rights listed in certain multilateral treaties and conventions in international law, like the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR). There is nothing wrong with definition by ostension; no other mode of definition is available for certain terms like simple colour words. But ‘human rights’ is a complex phrase and we should expect an account of its complexity to tell us how the terms it contains – ‘human’ and ‘rights’ – work together to constitute its meaning.

Any adequate normative theoretical account, or philosophy, of civil rights and liberties must accommodate, among other norms, those set out in the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen (1789), the US Bill of Rights (1791), and the first twenty-one Articles of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights (1948). Paradigm cases include rights to life, physical integrity, security, privacy, property, and a fair trial; and freedoms of religion, expression, movement, contract, and association or assembly.

Paul’s letters offer eloquent testimony to his profound activity as a reader of Israel’s scriptures. This chapter offers an overview of that activity, discussing Paul’s scriptural sources and citation technique, the variety of formal and material ways in which Paul engages scripture, and the rhetorical purposes for which he quotes.

For the best part of fifty years, theoretical reflection on the law of torts has been afflicted by a schism between ‘economic’ and ‘moral’ approaches. More than an affliction, the schism has become an obsession among many who place themselves on the ‘moral’ side. On the ‘moral’ side, many write with embarrassing defensiveness as if their main task were to see off the economistic threat. Those on the ‘economic’ side who react at all tend to react condescendingly. As this cartoon suggests, the economists hold greater cultural sway, and this lends them a certain swagger in their work that their adversaries generally lack.

The possible reasons why people were attracted to Paul’s message have been rather neglected in Pauline studies but are important to consider. However, we need to approach the task cautiously and make careful comparisons, for various reasons, not least to avoid any presumptions of Christian superiority. Possible reasons for the appeal of Paul’s “good news” are considered, ranging from more theological or religious reasons, such as escape from divine wrath and mystical experience, to more personal and social ones, such as Paul’s charisma and zeal, and community meals and mutual support.

The notions of causation and responsibility are deeply entwined in the law. Two questions about responsibility are central to any legal system: (i) for which consequences of your actions are you responsible? And (ii) for which of your actions themselves are you responsible? Our main focus will be on the former, but causation plays a fundamental role in both.

This essay introduces the study of Paul and his letters to a non-specialist audience, overviewing the main issues that require negotiation and consideration whenever Paul’s letters are studied, including sections entitled: Why did Paul write letters? What letters did Paul write? Did other people contribute to Paul’s letters? To what extent is Paul’s discourse stable? How much do we know about Paul’s life? and To what extent can we make use of Acts?

Recent work in philosophy of law includes many discussions of law’s ‘nature or essence’, understood as those properties of law that are necessary, or at least important and typical or characteristic of ‘law as such, wherever it may be found’1 (or that help explain how and why law can be considered a kind, and laws or legal systems its instances or instantiations). Some hold that law has no nature; only natural objects have a nature, and law is artefactual, not natural. Others reply that there are kinds of artefacts: paper clips differ in nature from printer drivers, and being a soft cheese blob excludes being a paper clip – excludes being something of that kind or nature. Attention is shifting promisingly to paradigms of artefact more relevant to law than paper clips are: assertions, for example.2

Who was Paul? This essay places the apostle within his Diaspora social context of synagogue communities, gentile Judaizers, Roman authorities, hostile pagans and pagan gods, to reconstruct his mission and message. By turning the nations from their gods to his god, Paul was confirmed in his conviction that Christ was about to return to defeat cosmic powers; to accomplish that signature eschatological miracle, the resurrection of the dead; and to gather the twelve tribes of Israel and the seventy gentile nations under the universal sovereignty of God the father.