During the Tokugawa period, commoners developed increasingly sophisticated methods of challenging what they perceived as unjust government policies or unethical behavior by the wealthy. Popular movements coalesced around petitions that stated grievances. They typically took the form of mass demonstrations that required preparation, organization, and leadership. Even urban food riots had a logic to them. In many cases, they erupted after women had called on merchants to feed the poor, and they followed a code for conduct that cautioned against stealing. In the early nineteenth century, farmers created village leagues that employed representatives to manage issues with regional implications and make their case for commercial policies. In some instances, they argued that all human beings are equal, an argument made unsuccessfully by outcaste villagers. Villagers commemorated popular movements in chronicles and tales, mixing fact and fiction in the interests of a good story, and they remembered their fallen leaders in memorial services.

The proclaimed duty of the state to safeguard the public interest provided a space for subordinates to engage with ruling authorities. It entailed the right of the ruled to remind the state to fulfill its obligation in the case of specific welfare grievances of its subjects. Such a right was passive, as it was derived from the state's duty to protect the public interest. The patterns of state response to popular claim-making were similar across Tudor and early Stuart England, Tokugawa Japan, and Qing China. The right to petition authorities was granted to individuals; yet the state did not allow crowd petitions, which were universally treated as disrespectful to authority and as a threat to social order. However, the state across these three cases was tolerant of collective petitions caused by cross-regional or cross-sectoral conflicts of interest, and it tried to arbitrate disputes as an impartial guardian of the public interest. The increasing scale of conflicts of interest that arose with population growth and commercialization led to larger-scale and well-organized popular petitions that were still accepted by the state. Such petitioning represented a political space that had great potential to expand with socioeconomic development.

Chapter 3 investigates the French nationality decrees promulgated in 1930 and 1936, which recognized the claims métis people had been making for decades: they were French and entitled to French legal status. These new legal pathways to French citizenship and demarcations of parameters of belonging were tied to concepts of how race and multiracial identity mapped onto French legal status. The decrees codified multiracial people as a specific category in French colonial thought and society, but within the context of how multiracial people themselves claimed multiracial selfhoods. The claims of métis people who petitioned for citizenship deepened the debates about race and racial identity and changed the very idea of Frenchness. The burden of proof on petitioners hinged on questions of paternity and French cultural competency. However, maternal kin and African communities played an essential role in the legal process. Métis obtainment of French citizenship was consequential for hierarchies of status within African societies. At the same time, it both contested and created hierarchies of social and legal status and privilege based on changing racial thought.

How might a close reading of the language of revolutionary-era anti-slavery petitions contribute to a broader understanding of the politics of the American founding? This chapter focuses on one of the earliest surviving examples of African American political writing, the petition submitted to the Massachusetts House of Representatives in January 1773, by an author named FELIX. Revolutionary republicans came to disparage the petitionary form, because it had failed to persuade King George to defend his colonial subjects. The petition’s conventional language of deference and its tendency to “pray” or plead rather than to demand or insist led many colonists to reject the form in favor of far more assertive declarations of individual and collective right. By reanimating the petition, however, African Americans like FELIX not only contributed to the work of anti-slavery agitation; they also, as this chapter suggests, registered resistance to some of the dominant political ideas of the republican revolution. Drawing on historical studies of the significance of the petition in the colonies as well as accounts of the petition’s key formal and rhetorical features, this chapter makes the case for a specifically African American contribution to the political discourse of the founding.

Turning to Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points as the starting point for self-determination in international law has become part of the received wisdom of the field. In a 2017 article, Lauri Mälksoo examined the relationship between the liberal-Wilsonian and the socialist-Bolshevik conceptualisations of self-determination, rejecting the idea that the Bolsheviks contributed at all to the international right of self-determination. In his account, the right is an intrinsically liberal one, concerned with the ‘extension of human freedom from individuals to peoples’.

Chapter 7 discusses the continuing relevance and importance of the assembly and petition rights in the modern, online era. Regarding assembly, it notes that large gatherings of citizens such as the 2017 Women’s March (modeled on the 1963 March on Washington lead by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.) continue to play a critical role in enabling ordinary citizens to participate in democratic governance. Even in the Internet era, physical assemblies have a unique ability to express the strength and popularity of political positions, as well as to galvanize the participants in such events. The Internet has for that reason not displaced physical assembly, though it has simplified the organizing of such assemblies and permitted individuals who cannot physically assemble to jointly develop and express shared views. The chapter also explores and criticizes legal barriers to the exercise of assembly rights. Finally, the chapter argues in favor of reviving the traditional right of petition, and in particular the use of physical, hand-delivered petitions as a means to restore contact between citizens and public officials. It closes by demonstrating how the 1965 Selma March illustrates the continuing value of assembly and petition in our democracy.

Chapter 3 examines the Petition Clause of the First Amendment. Petitioning is the oldest of the rights of the Democratic First Amendment, with roots in pre-Norman England and given explicit protection in the Magna Carta in 1215. It originated as a means for individuals to seek redress from the king for private harms. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, however, it evolved into a means for citizens, generally acting in groups, to seek changes in public policy from the legislature. As such, petitioning was an essential element of democratic governance in America during the colonial era and the early Republic. It was a crucial means for citizens to bring their concerns to the attention of their elected representatives in between elections, and the only means for citizens who could not vote – which during this period meant the majority of citizens — to influence their government. Furthermore, during this period American legislatures felt an obligation to respond to properly filed petitions. Petitioning declined during the years leading up to the Civil War, however, and in our modern democracy it unfortunately plays a relatively trivial role.