Chapter 2 examines the local context of the pueblo of El Cobre and its members’ response to the privatization of the mining estate and their ensuing enslavement. It probes the unorthodox character of this community and the villagers’ vernacular collective self-identification as “cobreros,” or natives of El Cobre, an identification that they pressed on the court to counter their captivity and make other claims. The bonds of pueblo towered over and above possible internal cleavages along formal free or slave status, class, race, and gender. The cobreros’ collective action was possible precisely because of their social bonds and (informal) organization as a pueblo. The community empowered Gregorio Cosme Osorio, one of their own, to be their apoderado or legal representative in the royal court in Madrid, a rare liaison position for a colonial racialized man and another extraordinary aspect of the case. The chapter then turns trans-local as it traces Cosme’s journey and the networks he created from El Cobre to Madrid to litigate collective freedom. The chapter also examines the financial, administrative, political, and social challenges that these colonial litigants faced in accessing the judicial arena, particularly at the imperial level.

This introduction to Section 4 of the volume on court judgements and related works discusses the nature of recent research on the subject and comments on the increased availability of primary sources (in the form of sijillāt) from the Ottoman period onwards, including a representative bibliography of recent scholarship on the subject.

Litigation is a complex matter, calling for more sophisticated inquiries than what can be measured by a binary variable, namely, whether or not a Chinese company had experienced US lawsuits. This dichotomy glosses over crucial aspects of Chinese companies’ interactions with the US adjudicatory system. For instance, while prominent Chinese companies such as Huawei have litigated hundreds of lawsuits in the United States, most others were involved in no more than a few cases. However, the coding in Chapter 4 grouped them together in terms of US litigation experience. In fact, those that litigate infrequently may have more in common with Chinese companies that have managed to avoid US lawsuits altogether than prominent repeat players. To unveil important information lost from collecting and coding the data as a binary variable and to ameliorate possible biases in survey data concerning sensitive topics, this chapter explores a hand-collected objective dataset: federal lawsuits involving Chinese companies. It also presents three detailed case studies to demonstrate how Chinese companies with direct investments in the United States navigate the complex host-state legal system. These case studies (i.e., Lenovo, Huawei, and Fuyao Glass) will revisit the hypotheses and findings of prior chapters.

This chapter examines laws governing witnesses at trial and their testimony as well as other rules related to legal procedure. It also looks at how these topics figure in a number of psalms and in prophetic literature, since the relationship of individuals and even entire nations to Yahweh is often depicted in legal terms.

Epic Games, the creator of the hugely popular computer game Fortnite described itself as an “interactive entertainment company and provider of 3D engine technology.” Tim Sweeney, while a mechanical engineering student at the University of Maryland, founded the company in 1991 under the name Potomac Computer Systems out of his parents’ home. In addition to games, Epic Games also created Unreal Engine, the 3D game creation tool that powered a large array of games and 3D design by film, TV, simulation, architecture, automotive, and manufacturing companies. Furthermore, Epic Online Services facilitated content development for a variety of platforms. Epic Game Store was a distribution channel for Epic’s in-house games and those by third-party developers. This case explores the network and platform strategies of Epic Games and finishes with a discussion of the lawsuit that the company filed against mobile platform providers Apple and Google.

In the early 1990s, when Texaco left its operation in Ecuador behind, the metamorphosis of the Ecuadorean Amazon into a polluted resource environment came to light, attracting the interest of national and international NGOs and causing global and tedious legal aftermath: In the famous case Aguinda v. Texaco, a group of affected indigenous people and settlers sued the oil corporation to compensate for the environmental and social damage done in the Amazon – with mixed results. The final section of the book is structured in a loosely juridical fashion: starting with the discussion of the evidence – a summary of the recent history of the region and how human–nature relationships changed in the twentieth century – the conclusion problematizes the unfolding of the global legal battle and the contradicting judgments it produced. As the legal pathway appears to not offer justice to the affected people, a closing statement calls for alternative solutions to the plight of the Amazon, locally and globally.

Profitability of digital innovations depends on the ability of the innovator to prevent imitation and control a bottleneck in the ecosystem. The main drivers of value in the markets for information and communication include the perceived inherent value of the information product or service itself and the size and structure of the network. This chapter focuses on how to protect and enhance the value of information.

Chapter 4 commences a survey of the Court of Requests’ litigants. Drawing data out of the entire Court archive, it charts the origins of cases and clients in counties across English-governed territories and the status identifiers ascribed to both petitioners and defendants. The demography of this Court is characterised by considerable geographical and social breadth; this was a truly ‘national’ tribunal, accessible to everyone from poor widows and humble craftsmen to civic officials and the landed classes. The chapter puts these findings into dialogue with the scholarship on the relative litigiousness of English regions and on wealth distribution in early modernity. Finally, the chapter tests the claim that Requests was the ‘poor man’s court’, asking whether we can identify truly impoverished individuals among the standard social categorisations appearing in court records. It argues that royal justice could serve litigants of more humble status, though this observation will be qualified in following chapters.

The Introduction sets the scene for a reassessment of the transformative reigns of Henry VII and Henry VIII (1485–1547). It addresses recent treatments of this period as the threshold between the late-medieval and early modern worlds, associated only with the growth of monarchical power. As this book reveals, a formalised system for dispensing royal justice emerged under the first two Tudor monarchs. The engagements between sovereign and subjects it facilitated provide insight into how a vulnerable regime was legitimised. Analysis of this point of contact in the following chapters proceeds through three frameworks. First is the administrative-history approach central to mid-twentieth-century scholarship on this period, which this study revives but also revises. Second is the emphasis on litigation to the Crown as a means of state–society cohesion in histories of the Elizabethan and Stuart ages, projected into earlier decades and given greater practical definition in this book. Third is the overlooked presence of contention within royal justice, given full assessment in the present study and crucial to understanding why this jurisdiction was dissolved in 1641.

Chapter 5 turns from the demography of the Court of Requests to the issues that its plaintiffs presented. It begins with a breakdown of the subject matter of petitions, including violent assaults, debt and goods disputes, and quarrels over the possession of land. Thereafter, the chapter abandons firm legal categorisations used in other single-court studies, observing that supplicants to the king more often framed their cases in terms of emotions, relationships, and social values – of personal status and a wider social order that they perceived to be at risk. Finally, the chapter examines claims made by Requests’ petitioners about their inability to find justice elsewhere, in other parts of the legal system. This serves to trace the various possible steps between the onset of a localised feud and the pursuit of litigation before the king, and therefore to better contextualise the Court of Requests and the conciliar justice network. It also demonstrates how subjects and supplicants perceived this new jurisdiction: not as a forum for trying particular areas of case law but as a mechanism for remedying tangled feuds that could not be so simply defined nor easily remedied elsewhere.

This Conclusion resituates the book’s reconstruction of the early Tudor Court of Requests within the broader scope of late medieval and early modern history. Royal justice was a constant, and constantly controversial, element of English government across these periods. Social demand for more flexible and authoritative dispute resolution, combined with the political expediency of displaying good governance in turbulent times, led successive regimes to further routinise the existing practices of justice-giving in the royal household. Here the rise of the new royal justice system is taken to its conclusion, with the dissolution of this jurisdiction on the eve of Civil War, in 1641. This episode epitomises the complex relationship between principles and practices that has been charted across this book. Returning to the three themes raised in the Introduction, the book concludes with some reflections on the value of interweaving political, social, and legal histories together: for strengthening both institutional and socio-legal studies, and for qualifying existing narratives about litigation as a pillar of state-formation.