Clare’s declaration that he ‘found the poems in the fields, and only wrote them down’ is, to some extent, pretence; however quickly he might compose, he corrects and revises from very early on, before he gets any guidance from others. The more he writes, the more he confronts the inevitable problem of repetition: his solutions can be seen in the concentrated echoes and references back and forth between poems. The manuscripts in all their teeming detail demonstrate his determination to get things right. Once publication arrives he has to contend with the conflicting demands of editors, publishers, and supporters; there are vexed questions of taste and politics. As he moves towards The Shepherd’s Calendar, however keen his desire for independence, increasingly the process becomes collaborative. When his life is turned upside down with the move to Northborough in 1832, his deeply personal poems of loss are worked on with extraordinary intensity.

To litigate or not to litigate, that is the question any Chinese companies operating in the United States long enough must contemplate. For American companies, litigation is nothing but an unavoidable business risk and often a vital competition strategy, routinely dealt with by legal and managerial professionals applying monetarized cost–benefit analysis. Such analysis typically incorporates attorney fees and other litigation expenses, potential reputational damage, time and human resource consumption, and the present value of expected litigation gains or losses. By contrast, litigation in China carries complex social meanings and is often avoided to preserve long-term cooperative relationships or to signal desirable attributes to uninformed third parties. When lawsuits do occur, they are often handled by stakeholders without professional legal assistance. Disputants consider a wide range of material and nonmaterial interests that are shaped by both formal institutions undergoing significant transformation and complex, entrenched social norms governing dispute resolution. Chinese companies immersed in these two disparate institutional environments approach legal disputes in the United States.

Chapter 1 is a discussion of the scope of the concept of sustainable development. It examines the multiple dimensions of the concept and how these different angles to this concept have contributed to both its advance and decline in the law. This conceptual challenge accounted for the concept’s poor meaning and considerably poor performance. This chapter also provides insights into theoretical and methodological considerations underpinning this book, including the choice of Africa as the pivot of analysis and Third World Approaches to International Law as a scholarly approach.

This chapter responds to the objections raised by critics of moderation beginning with the famous remark of Barry Goldwater in 1964. It makes a case for moderation understood as a rebellious attitude that requires courage and non-conformism. It calls attention to the iinstitutional aspects of moderation that are often ignored or underestimated.

This chapter shows the limits of political Manichaeism with reference to the career of Maximilien Robespierre and his fellow Jacobin leaders during the French Revolution. It criticizes the use of litmus tests and the search for purity in political life, it also engages with the rhetoric of key members of the Claremont Institute whose radical agenda shows disturbing similarities with that of the Jacobins.

Ths chapter examines compromise as a face of moderation and shows how compromise properly understood can help us address the deep affective and ideological polarization in American society today. The compromsing mindset open to conciliation and bargaining is opposed to the uncompromising one that borders on authoritarianism.

The epilogue draws on Saul Alinsky’s well-known book Rules for Radicals (1971) and outlines a series of rules for “radical moderates” in the form of a Decalogue (sui generis) of moderation.

This chapter examines how different democratic decision-procedures – voting, majority rule, compromise, consensus, and public deliberation – relate to claims for recognition and democratic respect. Via a contrast with Rousseau and an explication of majority rule as a principle that regulates political decision-making over time, the chapter challenges the common view that populism is characterized by its unequivocal adherence to democratic principles of popular sovereignty and majority rule. The second part of the chapter discusses compromise as an attitude one can take when making decisions with one’s fellow citizens. Populists regard compromise as a form of betrayal, weakness, and defeat, while this chapter defends it as an important aspect of democratic respect. Political theorists have discussed whether the reasons for compromise are only pragmatic or whether they can also be principled. Populism’s principled rejection of compromise shows why our defense of this practice must be principled. The last part of the chapter connects the spirit of compromise to the notion of solidarity sketched in Chapter 2 and argues that compromise can be seen as a form of solidaristic inclusion of people with whom one profoundly disagrees.

This chapter explores the place of compromise in transitional justice. While all-pervasive in politics, compromise is a neglected topic, almost a non-topic, within the current transitional justice literature. The chapter is an attempt to reverse this tendency and rehabilitate the notion of compromise. If, as pluralists hold, we are often faced with cases of hard moral choices where, whatever we do, something of value is irreparably lost, then the best we can hope for is some kind of acceptable compromise between clashing goods. The question about the limits of compromise thus features centrally in this chapter. How far should transitional societies go in their willingness to compromise? When is a compromise acceptable, fair, guided by principle, and when is it rotten to the core, simply illegitimate? To what extent is it acceptable to compromise deeply held values such as justice and truth for the sake of other equally important values such as, say, civil peace and democracy? While doubtful that we can settle such issues once and for all, the chapter identifies a range of questions that should be part of the collective conversation about when a political compromise is acceptable and when it is not. The discussion begins, however, with a concrete historical figure, the communist leader Joe Slovo, who played a critical role in South Africa’s negotiated transition from apartheid to democracy. Slovo’s reflections on the nature and limits of compromise in the South African context serve as a central reference point for my discussion throughout this chapter.

This chapter takes the reader to the innermost chamber of the court: the deliberation room. There, the story untangles the maze of interactions that occur among the adjudicators as they finally decide the merits of the case. What commentators usually describe as the moment of truth is, in fact, a delicate dance of assertions and contestations, argument and counterargument, lunges and sidesteps. Amid the confrontation, judicial bureaucrats work staunchly and discreetly to guide the flow of the debate, broker compromises, and overcome stumbling blocks. The decisions and instructions that eventually emerge from deliberations may well be the truth – but a carefully constructed one. The deliberative practices of the various courts and tribunals, all described in this chapter, are more than simple logistical matters or mere conveyors of content. Rather, they have a crucial impact on the way adjudicators arrive at their decisions and, therefore, on the substantive outcomes of each dispute.

Effective governance is necessary in a successful constitutional democracy. This is not to deny that a central animating force in a democracy must be respect for the human individual. But a government that is not effective and seen as such is not likely to be able to protect individual rights. It is thus a mistake to conceptualize individual rights simply as in conflict with the collective goals of a democratic government: those goals are effective governance and rights preservation, and – in a democracy – these two are connected.

The framers of the US Constitution well understood that a constitutional state must act for public-regarding purposes – to “establish Justice, ensure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty.” To the extent that it fails to move in these directions, government will lose the confidence of the people. Effective government in constitutional democracies requires effective legislatures to promote all of these purposes.

Chapter 6 discusses how trust can emerge in the formal political sphere. Engaging with arguments for “political friendship” and “salutary hypocrisy,” this chapter shows that a division of labour between “principled pragmatists” and “principled purists” can counteract the institutionalized enmity problem. Principled pragmatists can develop a sense of reciprocity by engaging in some forms of hypocrisy and by striking compromises; this reciprocity can counteract the tendency for political actors to compete as enemies. Meanwhile, principled purists can more stubbornly refuse to compromise in order to keep principled pragmatists honest. There are times, however, when the distribution of principled pragmatists across mainstream parties is unbalanced, just as there are times when some (former) mainstream liberal democrats have forged enduring alliances with autocratic political actors. Accordingly, the chapter argues that in these circumstances, those who stand outside of these “unholy alliances” must embrace contestation and show that participation in these alliances is politically disadvantageous.