A novel experiment in comparative legal history, exploring the legal world in England during two different periods.

Designed for those studying law for the first time, this book explores where the English common law came from.

After inquisitorial procedure was introduced at the Fourth Lateran Council in Rome in 1215 (the same year as England's first Magna Carta), virtually all court trials initiated by bishops and their subordinates were inquisitions. That meant that accusers were no longer needed. Rather, the judges themselves leveled charges against persons when they were publicly suspected of specific offenses?like fornication, or witchcraft, or simony. Secret crimes were off limits, including sins of thought (like holding a heretical belief). Defendants were allowed full defenses if they denied charges. These canonical rules were systematically violated by heresy inquisitors in France and elsewhere, especially by forcing self-incrimination. But in England, due process was generally honored and the rights of defendants preserved, though with notable exceptions. In this book, Henry Ansgar Kelly, a noted forensic historian, describes the reception and application of inquisition in England from the thirteenth century onwards and analyzes all levels of trial proceedings, both minor and major, from accusations of sexual offenses and cheating on tithes to matters of religious dissent. He covers the trials of the Knights Templar early in the fourteenth century and the prosecutions of followers of John Wyclif at the end of the century. He details how the alleged crimes of "criminous clerics" were handled, and demonstrates that the judicial actions concerning Henry VIII's marriages were inquisitions in which the king himself and his queens were defendants. Trials of Alice Kyteler, Margery Kempe, Eleanor Cobham, and Anne Askew are explained, as are the unjust trials condemning Bishop Reginald Pecock of error and heresy (1457-59) and Richard Hunne for defending English Bibles (1514). He deals with the trials of Lutheran dissidents at the time of Thomas More's chancellorship, and trials of bishops under Edward VI and Queen Mary, including those against Stephen Gardiner and Thomas Cranmer. Under Queen Elizabeth, Kelly shows, there was a return to the letter of papal canon law (which was not true of the papal curia). In his conclusion he responds to the strictures of Sir John Baker against inquisitorial procedure, and argues that it compares favorably to the common-law trial by jury.

Provocative, audacious and challenging, this book rejuvenates not only the historical study of law but also the role of Law Schools by asking which stories we tell and which stories we forget. It argues that a historical approach to law should be at the beating heart of the Law School curriculum. Far from being archaic, elitist and dull, historical perspectives on law are and should be subversive. Comparison with the past underscores: how the law and legal institutions are not fixed but are constructed; that every line drawn in the law and everything the law holds as sacred is actually arbitrary; and how the environment into which law students are socialised is a historical construct. A subversive approach is needed to highlight, question, de-construct and re-construct the authored nature of the law, revealing that legal change on a larger scale is possible. Far from being archaic, this recasts legal history as being anarchic. Subversive Legal History is not a type of Legal History but is its defining characteristic if it is to be a central part of Law School life. It describes a legal method that should not be the preserve only of specialist legal historians but rather should be part of the toolkit of all law students, teachers and researchers. This book will be essential reading for all who work and study in Law Schools, proposing a radical new approach not only to the historical study of law but also to the content, purpose and ambition of legal education. A subversive approach can revolutionise Law Schools providing a more ambitious legal education which is grounded in the socio-legal reality, helping to ensure that today’s law students are better equipped to be the professionals and citizens of tomorrow.

This book explores accountability from a range of perspectives, crossing traditional disciplinary, thematic, and professional boundaries. It asks fresh questions about accountability and its place and importance in democratic societies. Accountability matters. It matters because it connects the governors with the governed, and for this reason it is a hallmark of democratic governance. And yet, amidst a backdrop of concerns about democratic back-sliding, the rise of populism, the role of algorithmic governance, moral barbarism, and post-truth politics - to mention just a few issues - a number of potentially far-reaching questions of accountability have been asked. It is for exactly this reason that this book explores the concept of accountability from a range of perspectives, crossing traditional disciplinary, thematic, and professional boundaries. It asks fresh questions about accountability and its place and importance in democratic societies. The book considers the questions raised by the shifting architecture of accountability. Whilst some scholars suggest that accountability processes have never been so effective -trumpeting the rise of monitory democracy with its dense array of watchdogs, sleaze-busters, auditors, legislative committees, statutory supports, and investigative mechanisms - others express concern about the risk of 'overloads', 'gaps', and 'traps'. This has led to a focus on fuzzy accountability and diagonal accountability, pointing to increasing conceptual confusion. Bringing together world-leading scholars and former politicians and public servants, the book cuts through this confusion and provides the reader with the answers to the most debated issues, including rarely discussed 'pathologies of accountability', post-human governance, and a novel focus on balance and proportionality.

This book offers both a philosophical and psychological theory of an aspect of human love, first noted by Plato and used by Freud in developing psychoanalysis (transference love), namely, lovers as mirrors for one another, enabling them thus better to see and understand themselves and others. Shakespeare’s art makes the same appeal—theater as a communal mirror—expressing the artist holding a loving mirror for his culture at a point of transitional crisis between a shame and guilt culture. The book shows how Shakespeare’s plays offer better insights into the behavior of violent men than Freud’s, based on close empirical study of violent criminals; develops a theory of violence rooted in the moral emotions of shame and guilt; and a cultural psychology of the transition from shame to guilt cultures. The work argues that violence is, contra Freud, not an ineliminable instinct in the nature of things, requiring autocracy, but arises from patriarchally inflicted cultural injuries to the love of equals that undermine democracy, and that only a therapy based on love can address such injuries, replacing retributive with restorative justice, and populist fascist autocracy with constitutional democracy. Love, thus understood, underlies a range of disparate phenomena: the appeal of Shakespeare’s theater as a communal art; the role of love in psychoanalysis; in Augustine’s conception of love in religion (disfigured by his patriarchal assumptions); in Kant’s anti-utilitarian ethics of dignity; in a naturalistic ethics that roots ethics in facts of human psychology; the role of law in democratic cultures as a mirror and critique of such cultures; and the basis of an egalitarian theory of universal human rights (inspired by Kant and developed, more recently, by John Rawls). In all these domains, uncritically accepted forms of culture (the initiation of men and women into patriarchy) traumatize the love of equals, and thus disfigure and distort our personal and political lives.