As the 1978–1979 revolution approached, Khomeini’s reactionary conceptions of the ideal social order were all but forgotten. The popular assumption was that Khomeini and, along with him, the rest of the clerical establishment were “revolutionary” in the true sense of the word. But the clerical establishment, which had long been divided among itself, had engaged in little innovation of any kind, either on its own or through the institution of the howzeh. Equally valuable for the victors of the revolution has been the howzeh, a hallowed institution of religious teaching and learning for the better part of a century. For nearly as long, it has been a bastion of jurisprudential traditionalism. Khomeini saw it as archaic. Two decades later, Khamenei extended the state’s capture to the howzeh, bureaucratized it, ensured its financial dependence, and, through added administrative units, made it a practical extension of the state. If the howzeh was ever a forum for jurisprudential innovation, that rare possibility is even rarer now. Not surprisingly, what jurisprudential innovation has taken place, by Khomeini and by successive generations of religious scholars, has been overwhelmingly outside of the howzeh.

Khomeini’s arguments were foundational to the Islamic Republic. The significance of his jurisprudential contributions and innovations cannot be overstated. For the first time, he theorized about direct rule by a faqih. He revolutionized the position of velayat-e faqih by taking it out of the social and cultural realms only and planting it firmly in the domain of politics. First, he made the velayat-e faqih a political supervisor, then a ruler, and finally an absolute ruler. Khomeini gave the absolute ruler the authority to issue injunctions that superseded the injunctions of religion if necessary and empowered him to decide on what was expedient and in the interest of the greater good. These ideas continue to remain foundational to the Islamic Republic. Today, Khomeini the ruler has been all but forgotten. His portraits continue to adorn government buildings, his mausoleum is a frequent stop for visiting dignitaries, and his legacy is duly praised on official occasions and in state ceremonies. But the state has long moved on from what one scholar aptly called “Khomeinism.” From the 1990s on, it has been “Khameneism” that has ruled Iran politically and jurisprudentially, with its own conceptions of velayat-e faqih.

In today’s Iran, state–religion relations exhibit three key features. An obvious feature is the deep basis of the state in innovative interpretations of Shia jurisprudence. The Islamic Republic is based on the system of the velayat-e faqih, generally translated in English as the “guardianship of the jurisconsult.” As a concept, the notion of the velayat-e faqih had existed in Shia thought for some time before Ayatollah Khomeini elaborated on it in his 1970 book by the same name. Khomeini’s contribution lay in his innovative interpretation of the velayat-e faqih as a supreme political leader who oversaw not just religious affairs, as previous theologians had theorized but was in overall charge of all affairs of the entire community, profane and political as well as religious. Today, Khomeini’s conception of velayat-e faqih underlies the institutional and political foundations of the Islamic Republic. The Iranian political system is far more ideologically informed, and hence ideological, than may at first meet the eye.

This chapter addresses a basic question of general jurisprudence, that is, what difference law makes in moral space. It argues that a central characteristic of law is not necessarily that it tells us what morality (or justice) might dictate. Rather, it establishes a way of attributing decisions to all of us and not to any one of us in particular. Law’s distinctive moral virtue is not justice but legitimacy. What renders this possible is the operation of public officials whose value lies in acting in our name. The chapter defends what we label the standing conception of law, according to which law’s most basic moral contribution is that of establishing an entity whose normative pronouncements could count as being made in the name of (or even by) the people.

In 17 countries suicide is currently illegal, and an additional 20 countries follow Islamic or Sharia law where suicide attempters may be punished with jail sentences. The majority of countries have laws making it illegal to abet, aid or encourage suicide, but the nature and punishment of the illegal actions varies. Laws in places with civil, common law, Islamic law and traditional law systems are compared. Great variances in application were noted, sometimes within countries. It is impossible to estimate the number of persons currently in jail for attempted suicide, but jail sentences are still given. Some countries do not prosecute suicide attempters despite the laws, while others consistently jail suicide attempters. In countries where suicide attempts have been decriminalised, attempters may still face prosecution when another person is injured or dies as a result of their suicide attempt, or when the attempter is a member of the military. We discuss the roots of laws making suicide, aiding and encouraging suicide illegal and examine prospects for future changes. The recent Supreme Court Decision in Canada, invalidating the law making it illegal to assist in the suicide of physically ill people who are suffering (albeit with restrictive conditions) illustrates current trends towards “liberalisation” of assisted suicide.

The relationship between comparative law and legal history has been a topic of interest for a long time. But reflections on how methods could combine the historical approaches of legal systems around the world with theoretical or jurisprudential points of view really began with Edouard Lambert’s 1903 book La fonction du droit civil comparé. Using the two meanings of ‘jurisprudence’ (as case law in French language and as legal theory in English), Lambert proposed comparing positive rules while bearing in mind the weight of history and its limits. Following this path, this chapter explores critical and constructive approaches to comparative law through legal history. In the first part of this chapter, history is used to criticise simplistic conceptions of comparative law like ‘legal families’ and ‘national spirit’. In the second part, historical-jurisprudential approaches are defended as a means of more clearly delimiting legal phenomena and facilitating a deeper analysis of the dynamics of law. In conclusion, scholars are and should remain open to developing a diversity of historical-jurisprudential approaches.

The Basic Law of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region allows judges from other common law jurisdictions to sit on the Court of Final Appeal. Since 1997, one overseas non-permanent judge has sat on the bench of the Court of Final Appeal in nearly all substantive appeals. The chapter provides an overview of the identities of the overseas non-permanent judges over the Court’s 24-year history and outlines how the working practices of the Court have developed to support their involvement in Hong Kong’s judiciary. An assessment of the benefits that overseas non-permanent judges provide the Court of Final Appeal and the contributions they have made to the development of the law and legal system of Hong Kong show that the use of foreign judges in Hong Kong has been highly successful.

“Rational Shariah” is the name associated with Qābel’s worldview, which is explained in this chapter in the context of New Religious Thinking in Iran. The salient points of this worldview are examined, including the contextualization of Qurʾānic revelation, the“changeability” of verses, the sira ʿoqalā (or way of the wise), and contentious issues such as eating pork and drinking alcohol, and the criticism of contemporary juristic theory in Iran. This is conducted by a minute examination of his e-book and seminal work named Shariʿat-e ʿaqlāni, and it assesses the extent to which it is correct to label Qābel “excessive” in his jurisprudential worldview.

In this chapter, I examine how voluntas helps the young lawyer Cicero craft arguments and structure relationships with Roman clients, witnesses, and juries. In the De inventione and forensic speeches, we see his struggle to reconcile tradition with new intellectual tools. As he seeks to bring ratio more fully into Roman legal culture, voluntas plays a plural and ambiguous role. It is an instrument of rational inquiry, as in the competing schemata of criminal responsibility he examines in the De inventione. As it has always been in Roman law, voluntas is the desire of a legally relevant individual, emanating from and attributable to him alone – the marker of his agency and responsibility. So, too, however, is it used to signify the collective goodwill of an audience, which Cicero makes clear is the expert orator’s plaything. The “goodwill” sense of voluntas adds greatly to its durability in moral philosophy. While a sententia or iudicium pertain to a specific question, voluntas marks an ongoing choice or disposition, such as the will of a legislator, to be conserved. Cicero’s objectives for the law go largely unachieved in his time, but they expand Rome’s intellectual field of vision.