In my response to reviews by Christopher Agee, Christopher Schmidt, Karen Tani, and Laura Weinrib, I explain some of the challenges of writing Vagrant Nation: Police Power, Constitutional Change, and the Making of the 1960s. In particular, I explore the challenge of creating narrative coherence without losing the essential multiplicity of the story or compromising my methodological commitment to constitutional history across the many actors involved in the legal change process. I ultimately constructed such coherence on three levels: narrative, thematic, and doctrinal. Narratively, I settled on a larger role for the Supreme Court than initially anticipated, while still de-centering the Court substantively, methodologically, and causally. I located thematic coherence largely in a new vision of the “sixties.” The decade that emerges was marked by a common claim against the idea that everyone had a proscribed place from which they could not escape; an evolving if incomplete effort to disentangle difference from danger; and the crucial role of both sympathy and empathy in the success of the challenge to vagrancy laws. Though numerous legal arguments ran through that challenge, doctrinal multiplicity—the refusal to flatten or narrow the complex set of arguments and harms that vagrancy cases presented—became its own form of coherence.

Using data from personal interviews with 777 Chicago lawyers, constituting a random cross section of the urban bar, the authors estimate the relative volumes of effort devoted to each of several fields of law, analyze the degree to which practitioners specialize in fields or groups of fields, and examine the patterns of co-practice of the fields. They find that the total effort of the Chicago bar is about evenly divided between work for corporate clients and work for individual clients. They also suggest that, while relatively few lawyers are highly specialized to a particular doctrinal area of the law, most are specialized to the service of the needs of a particular type of client. Exploring possible implications of their findings, the authors speculate that lawyers who are specialized to clients rather than to substantive fields may lack the incentive to devote their resources to the rationalization of legal doctrine.

Political scientists analyze the global rise of judicial appointment commissions as a response to judicialized politics. They argue that appointment processes have formalized to include more constituencies now affected by judicial decisions. This article presents evidence from Southern Africa confounding their expectations. In this region, formalization has social as well as political origins. Over the last two decades, the senior judiciary has suddenly become subject to the same demands for organizational accountability and descriptive representation that sociologists of other professions have been documenting for decades. Throughout the region, therefore, it has become increasingly difficult to defend opaque practices inherited from British (and South African) colonialism. Twenty years ago, Namibia, Botswana, Lesotho, and Swaziland/Eswatini all recruited most appellate judges from abroad through informal channels. In every country, this system has come under pressure from a variety of local sources. Yet those demanding reform have always been able to mobilize new international orthodoxies that require the judiciary to represent its society and make itself accountable to profane, external audiences. These new orthodoxies have acquired an unusual power in Southern Africa thanks to their embodiment in South Africa’s own post-apartheid transition, and long-standing moral imperatives to “localize” senior expatriate positions in postcolonial states.

This article examines data collected from users of the German Federal Ombudsman Scheme (GFOS). The data was collected as part of a research project to understand how the GFOS operates in practice and how its procedures and outcomes are accepted by its users. We begin from the premise that experience of procedural justice during this alternative dispute resolution (ADR) process will build institutional legitimacy, and the article makes three contributions to the literature on procedural justice. First, we extend evidence of the link between procedural justice and legitimacy to a novel institutional context that is different in many ways to the criminal justice focus of much of the extant literature. Second, we consider the motivations of service users to engage with ADR as potential moderators of that link. Third, we analyze the relationship between procedural justice, subjective outcomes, and the actual outcomes provided to service users. Overall, we conclude that the link between procedural justice and legitimacy can be identified among those with very different motivations for using the GFOS.

Among law and society fields, legal anthropology has experienced markedly high highs and low lows. Its parent disciplines, law and anthropology, have fluctuated from intense and productive engagement with one another to mutual disregard for each other’s ways of knowing. Most commentary on the trajectory of this interdisciplinary relationship has bemoaned anthropology’s (ir)relevance to legal scholarship, but this introduction and the symposium essays that follow invert the usual narrative by asking how—and why—formal law might matter to anthropology. The symposium is part of a dual special issue that grows out of a multi-year conversation between legal anthropologists representing varied institutional and intellectual backgrounds. Drawing on that conversation and on the essays it has produced, this introduction argues that anthropologists would do well to abandon their prepositional attitude to formal law and, instead, to build on the strengths of anthropological analysis by “cultivating attentiveness” to things legal.

The war on sex offenders was an American campaign against sex crime that began in the 1930s and is still ongoing. In this review essay, I argue that the architects and opponents of that war engaged in political struggles that—especially during the pivotal era of the long 1970s—produced, criminalized, and hierarchized multiple new categories of “good” and “bad” LGBTQ legal subjects. In making this argument, my aim is to bring the field of LGBTQ political and legal history—especially the work of George Chauncey ([1994] 2019) and Margot Canaday (2009)—into closer conversation with scholarship by queer theorists who are not historians—especially Gayle Rubin ([1984] 2011a) and Michael Warner (1999)—about the stigmatization of non-normative gender and sexual practices. While historians have examined the policing of multiple queer behaviors in the early twentieth century, their examinations of the post-1945 period have been concerned primarily with the consolidation of a starker social and legal binary between homo- and heterosexuality. As their narratives get closer to the present, the most stigmatized “bad” queers become more and more tangential. At least in part, this has been because historians have been under the same pressure as LGBTQ activists to distance LGBTQ identity from the stigma of sexual “deviance”—especially sex that violated age-of-consent statutes—in order to promote the political project of LGBTQ rights. Placing bad queers at the center of LGBTQ political and legal history diversifies who counts as a subject of this history and reveals an even bigger carceral state that governed them.

Based on Chinese constitutional analysis, political science, and law and society studies, we argue that work extending the application of popular constitutionalism to authoritarian states applies in Vietnam, as popular constitutionalism targets sites relevant to constitutional reform. We contend that popular constitutionalism located in authoritarian states requires three factors: a tradition of activism, space for reformist and pragmatic dialogue targeting constitutional change, and the political need for legitimacy. This article analyses activism in Vietnam, focusing on the lodging of Petition 72 with the Constitutional Amendment Drafting Commission in 2013, and the resulting responses. We conclude that this activism was pivotal in advocating for new constitutional norms, evidencing popular constitutionalism in Vietnam. The long history of Vietnamese scholar activism, the relative space for governance debates, and the political need for legitimacy made this possible. We also note that popular constitutionalism faces constraints in authoritarian states, which may shape its trajectory.

Scholars studying wrongful convictions have long examined their causes and the ways in which to prevent them and are increasingly interested in exonerees’ post-prison reentry processes. However, research on the experience of incarceration as a result of wrongful conviction is scarce. This article draws on in-depth interviews with eleven exonerees across three states (Illinois, Texas, and New York) to theorize how multiple facets of innocence (personal, relational, and institutional) shape the ways in which former prisoners have navigated their wrongful incarceration: learning to prove their innocence. For many wrongfully convicted inmates, acquiring legal knowledge and mobilizing post-conviction law—specifically, actual innocence jurisprudence—plays a central role in their daily lives given the onerous legal work it takes to prove their factual innocence. I advance what Kathryne M. Young has termed second-order legal consciousness, which prioritizes the social processes that create legal consciousness, as a framework to illuminate how wrongfully convicted inmates constructed legality when pursuing legal exoneration in prison. This article offers new insights into the relational nature of law to show how marginalized groups like prisoners mobilize law when pursuing their rights and allows us to theorize innocence in contexts where the state and society writ large have ascribed a person’s legal guilt.

This article explores how not-in-my-backyard (NIMBY) sentiments affect the implementation of new cannabis laws in California cities. Despite increasing legality and growing social tolerance, the actual status of cannabis remains controversial. Large segments of the population and local authorities remain uncomfortable with the use of cannabis and resist allowing cannabis facilities in their communities. I employ statistical analysis to understand why some jurisdictions move toward more permissive cannabis policies and others do not. The results show that, on average, socially and economically prosperous cities express higher support for cannabis legalization, but cannabis businesses are more likely to receive permits in cities that are socially and economically distressed. The disparity between demand (white middle-class communities) and supply (poor Hispanic communities) demonstrates that stereotypes generated by the war on drugs have not disappeared after the passage of new cannabis laws and continue to perpetuate the marginalization of disadvantaged individuals and places.

Scholars have shown how legal bystanders experience punishment at the hands of the state in their homes and neighborhoods, as well as jails and prisons. Other scholars have shown how bureaucratic processes, such as attending court, are punitive toward people charged with crimes. There is less information about how legal bystanders also experience punishment in courtrooms. In this article, we bridge the literatures between secondary prisonization and procedural punishment to illustrate how legal bystanders, such as family and friends of bond court defendants, experience punishment when attending bond court. We utilize courtroom ethnography of Central Bond Court in Chicago’s Cook County and interviews with family and friends of people charged with a crime to illustrate this form of punishment in three themes: extraction, destabilization, and degradation. With these findings, we argue that secondary prisonization begins not at the point of incarceration, but at the moment a loved one’s contact with the criminal legal system begins.

This article is the third and last in a series that has focused on the corporate actor elite of Chicago's legal community—those attorneys who practice law with and for the major business, social, civic, cultural, and charitable organizations in the city. In this paper, the focus is on the participation of the members of that elite in a series of issues that have arisen in both the legal community and the larger society in the recent past.

The article first examines the resources for collective decision making which the members of the corporate actor legal elite bring to the process of community issue resolution. It then examines in detail elite issue preferences and the patterns of elite participation in five professional and political issues. From this analysis an interesting “paradox of power” emerges: the elite is most successful on those issues in which it is least interested and active and least successful on those which most heavily attract its participation. The article concludes with a discussion of the reason for this paradox, basing its answer in larger sociological theories of the activation of different types of resources in different types of community conflict.

This article considers the organizations, financial patrons, and lawyers involved in two significant campaign finance cases decided by the Roberts Court: Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission and McCutcheon v. Federal Election Commission. The research indicates that these elements of the support structures for litigation on both sides of these cases, like the justices to whom they direct their advocacy, fall into well-defined opposing and partisan camps. It also suggests that strategic case selection on the challengers' side, the diversity of organizations supporting their positions, their network and coordination, and a simple and powerful frame around which to rally may have contributed to their success and to the Roberts Court's fundamental reshaping of campaign finance doctrine.

Because of the expansion of the postwar welfare state and its rhetoric of inclusion, the British National Assistance Board (NAB), which provided means-tested relief, faced a dramatic increase in the number of lone women with children claiming assistance in the 1950s and 1960s. In trying to restrict the state's role in social provision, the NAB relied on and tried to extend familial obligations for women's support that had been institutionalized in family law and in the poor law. The largely unsuccessful efforts of the NAB to prevent such women from turning to the welfare state included various forms of persuasion, coercion, and intimidation. Scholars of social policy in the postwar period have called attention to later efforts to discourage applications by lone women between the late 1960s and the 1990s. But the defensive posture against such women was adopted much earlier, in a relatively unexamined portion of the NAB's history. In its early, formative years, the NAB devised new strategies based on the rationales of female dependence that had long been entrenched in family law and the poor law. These methods and rationales became fixed in the postwar bureaucratic repertoire and were later available to bolster gendered attacks on the welfare state itself, particularly those made so aggressively under Thatcherism.

Determination of the finance charge is central to the Truth in Lending disclosure scheme. The author analyzes difficulties encountered in drafting the finance charge provisions, judicial and administrative interpretations of the statutory provisions, and application of the concept to various types of transactions. He concludes that, despite imperfections in the statute and regulation, the present provisions are about the best that can be expected given the varieties of credit transactions and differences in state law provisions regulating such transactions.