The franchise is the linchpin of representative democracy. The level of representation is dependent upon the extent of the franchise. This most fundamental of democratic rights, the right to vote for those who govern, is not entrenched in the Commonwealth Constitution. At the time the Constitution was enacted, the franchise was in a period of flux, with property qualifications and plural voting on the demise and the concept of a universal franchise in the ascendant. Proposals to enshrine the franchise in the Constitution met with protests that the smaller colonies, such as South Australia (which allowed women the right to vote) were attempting to impose their will on the larger colonies of New South Wales and Victoria. It is not surprising therefore that such protection as mar be found in the Constitution for the right to vote has been described as “obscure”.

Life (at least for company lawyers) without Salomon's case seems inconceivable. It is generally seen as a landmark decision. Every British and Australian company law textbook refers to it as a key case in the development of company law. The story of Salomon's case is, in fact, so well ingrained in our sensibilities that we all “know” (or at least think we do) the story of the unravelling of modern company law and the crucial role the decision by the House of Lords in Salomon v Salomon & Co Ltd plays in that story. We know the script so well that questioning the iconic status of Salomon's case would seem to be a ludicrous exercise. Despite the seeming futility of such an exercise it is the intention of this paper to suggest that re-examining some of our unquestioned assumptions may lead to some useful insights into the development of “modern” company law, and by inference, into a number of the problems (both theoretical and practical) facing contemporary corporations law academics and practitioners.

The executive power of the Commonwealth largely has been neglected, both by the High Court and by commentators, receiving scant attention in comparison with the Commonwealth's legislative and judicial powers. The High Court has examined executive power on fewer than 10 occasions – principally three cases in the Whitlam era: Barton v Commonwealth, the AAP Case and Johnson v Kent – and, most recently, in the Bicentennial Authority Act Case in 1988. (The power has, of course, also arisen in several Federal Court cases, most notably the Tampa Case in 2001.) The relative neglect of this power is reflected in constitutional commentary, for which High Court cases represent primary 'authority'. The Commonwealth's legislative powers have, of course, received detailed examination in every major text since Quick and Garran in 1901. But, while the first monograph on Commonwealth judicial power appeared as early as 1904, almost 80 years were to elapse before publication of a book devoted to the executive power of the Commonwealth.

One of Aesop's fables tells the story of a war between the Birds and the Beasts, and the problems which this posed for the Bat. Whilst sharing characteristics in common with each set of protagonists, the Bat nevertheless did not belong to either side. Unfortunately this subtlety was not noticed by the warring parties'who each dismissed the Bat as an enemy. This image of the Bat's difficult position captures what I am attempting to do in this article. I examine the debate (“war” is too strong a word for it) between the two dominant justificatory theories of corporate governance and regulation in Australian corporate jurisprudence—the concession theory and the contract-based theories. I argue that although this debate has offered some important insights, ultimately it has proved to be either too simplistic (offering one-dimensional pictures of corporate life) or too restrictive (limiting our conception of how corporate governance and regulation might be improved). I sketch out an alternative justificatory theory which I call “corporate constitutionalism”.

The constitutional validity of Federal legislation such as the Trade Practices Act 1974 (Cth) depends upon the legislation falling within the ambit of the law-making powers of the Commonwealth enumerated in the Constitution. Those law-making powers are contained primarily within s 51, supplemented by additional heads such as s 122 and others. The Trade Practices Act 1974 (Cth) (the “Act”), drafted after successful constitutional challenges to earlier trade practices legislation, relies for its constitutional validity primarily on the corporations power (s 51(20)), bolstered by the trade and commerce power (s 51(1)), postal services (s 51(5)), banking (s 51(13)), insurance (s 51(14)), external affairs (s 51(29)), dealings with the Commonwealth (s 52) and the territories power (s 122). The constitutional foundations of the Act are expressly referred to in s 6 of the Act. That section provides something of a checklist of heads of power upon which the Act is based and is designed to enumerate, when necessary, the extension of the Act to constitutional heads of power other than the corporations power.

Allostery describes the ability of biological macromolecules to transmit signals spatially through the molecule from an allosteric site – a site that is distinct from orthosteric binding sites of primary, endogenous ligands – to the functional or active site. This review starts with a historical overview and a description of the classical example of allostery – hemoglobin – and other well-known examples (aspartate transcarbamoylase, Lac repressor, kinases, G-protein-coupled receptors, adenosine triphosphate synthase, and chaperonin). We then discuss fringe examples of allostery, including intrinsically disordered proteins and inter-enzyme allostery, and the influence of dynamics, entropy, and conformational ensembles and landscapes on allosteric mechanisms, to capture the essence of the field. Thereafter, we give an overview over central methods for investigating molecular mechanisms, covering experimental techniques as well as simulations and artificial intelligence (AI)-based methods. We conclude with a review of allostery-based drug discovery, with its challenges and opportunities: with the recent advent of AI-based methods, allosteric compounds are set to revolutionize drug discovery and medical treatments.

By section 75(iii) and (iv) of the Commonwealth Constitution, the High Court is granted original jurisdiction to hear “matters” between the various Australian governments. As yet, most inter-governmental cases heard by the High Court have been disposed of by interpretation and application of the Constitution, but it is clear that the High Court must have recourse to legal sources outside the Constitution. A study of the cases so far heard by the High Court, the types of disputes that might arise, application of the common law in other areas of law and experience in other federations reveals that the common law is applicable to Australian inter-governmental cases. Not only this, but there exists a body of “inter-state common law” specifically referable to intergovernmental disputes. Strands of this inter-state common law are to be found in the law covering rights of governments and their Attorneys General to sue other governments on behalf of their residents, intergovernmental agreements, nuisance and inter-State water disputes.

"The Common Law abhors infiniteness"

Constitutional commentators have long been troubled by the question as to whether the notion of the rule of law operates, on the one hand, as a conduit for the expression of the supreme legislative authority of Parliament, or, on the other (at least to some degree) independently of, and thereby potentially in conflict with, parliamentary supremacy. As an alternative to both of these suggestions it might be held that according to the circumstances, the notion of the rule of law is capable of portraying both of these characteristics. Curiously, relatively little has been written on this specific issue in relation to Australia. The attention directed towards the vexed questions of the nature and extent of the federal division of powers in Australia (admittedly, themselves issues not unrelated to the present concern) has marginalised interest in the nature of legislative authority in Australia. “The one legal doctrine”, it has been recently proclaimed, “that Australian and other Commonwealth lawyers are never taught to question (or perhaps are taught never to question) is A V Dicey's theory of parliamentary omnipotence”.

A 50-year-old man presented with shortness of breath. The patient underwent ventricular septation for a single ventricle with L-malposition of the great arteries at 6 years of age. Examinations revealed that the calcified patch for septation was torn and perforated, resulting in a left-to-right shunt. We report a rare case of a single ventricle who survived after septation 40 years ago and underwent the reoperation due to a torn calcified patch.

The High Court . . . is properly termed the “keystone of the federal arch”.

— Alfred Deakin

take it as an incontrovertible axiom that responsible government is to be the keystone of this federal arch.

— Isaac Isaacs

China has taken significant steps to combat corruption since the 18th National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). However, whether and how the anti-corruption efforts influence the public's evaluation of local government performance remain understudied. Using multiple data sources, including panel survey data taken from the China Family Panel Studies from 2010 to 2018, this research examines how anti-corruption efforts improve evaluations of local government performance by reducing public perception of existing corruption. Additional analysis reveals that anti-corruption efforts reduce perceived corruption primarily when the public trusts officials or has had positive experiences with them. The positive impact on local government evaluations has been more pronounced in provinces with high levels of pre-existing corruption and since the 18th CCP National Congress in 2012. Moreover, the effectiveness of anti-corruption efforts has remained consistent across all time periods since 2012.

The recent High Court decision of FCT v Peabody has raised once again the question of tax avoidance and how to deal with it. This article is a contribution to the discussion. The first part of the paper looks at the history of the judicial treatment of s 260, the old general anti-avoidance provision in the Income Tax Assessment Act 1936 (Cth) (the Assessment Act). There is then an analysis of Part IV A, s 260's bastard child, and the Peabody decision. I apply some of the historical lessons that come from the examination of s 260 to Part IV A. I am, if you like, looking back to look forward.

The introduction of the Human Rights Act 2004 (ACT) (‘the HRA’), although contentious, is indicative of a move towards the introduction of bills of rights at State or Territory level in Australia. The HRA is modelled on the UK Human Rights Act and the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act, and has precipitated discussion in several States on the merits of introducing their own bills of rights, with Victoria enacting the Charter of Human Rights and Responsibilities Act 2006 (Vic).

However, one significant area of uncertainty, which has been given little consideration, is how the HRA (and equivalent legislation at State level) will operate within Australia's constitutional framework. Section 32 of the HRA enables the ACT Supreme Court to issue a ‘declaration of incompatibility’ when a provision of ACT legislation is incompatible with a right enunciated in the HRA. However, this declaration is intended to initiate ‘dialogue’ between the judiciary and the legislature: it does not invalidate the legislation, or affect the rights of the parties in the dispute in which the declaration is made. This article will address the constitutional limits that may be placed on the exercise of this novel ‘remedy’.