Faisal Chaudhry’s book is a sharp corrective to the way we think about law in South Asia in two ways, namely, the nature of law on the one hand and the relationship between law and society on the other. It is quite common among scholars of South Asia to examine the realm of law either as an arena of promise or as an arena of broken promises. In other words, scholars working on diverse areas such as property, tenancy, public infrastructure, or the matter of private realms such as those relating to marriage and inheritance (to mention only a few) tend to seriously take into account the process of the making of the laws and outline their important elements and intent and then, perhaps, examine how and why these laws were followed or not followed. Law, in other words, becomes either the land of perpetual promised emancipation or one where the promises were not kept, as it is interrupted by notions of politics, desire, or the market. In these conventional (by no means wrong, of course) approaches, we tend to assume a separation between law and society or between law and its implementation. Chaudhry, instead, presents a fundamentally different account of modern law in South Asia by shifting our focus from intent and implementation to philosophical and historical origins.

In this sweeping, dense, and voluminous book, Chaudhry argues that in South Asia, law in an abstract sense (which is used ubiquitously in literature) is something that emerged historically, a process that requires us to pay special attention. He undertakes the task of historicizing the emergence of law as a doctrine and as an entity that references itself (as distinct) from that which it legislates over as one that occurred over a period of time, specifically after the transition of power from the East India Company to the British Crown in 1858. Further, this doctrinal discourse of law did not occur in isolation. Chaudhry argues that it was part of the global expansion of classical legal thought. The global imprint of legal developments of South Asia, then, was not incidental but rather central to the story of law and society in the long nineteenth century.

The implications of Chaudhry’s argument are at least twofold, both of which are interspersed. Firstly, Chaudhry’s book is a unique and bold attempt to properly locate South Asian legal history as part of global legal history. As he notes, “…just as the history of British India has scarce been considered by historians of classical legal thought…the history of classical legal thought has scarcely, if ever, been considered by historians of South Asia” (p. 8). In doing so, Chaudhry effectively moves beyond frameworks that only located law as a function of colonial subterfuge. Secondly, and this follows from the first, law in South Asia, therefore, did not just follow as the inevitable variable or simply the narrow logic of colonial expansion (which Chaudhry is careful to note is very much part of the story but not the only story) but rather as one that followed in the footprints of the process of what he calls the “ontologization” of law that had already occurred in the Anglo-American world. Questions of popular sovereignty, executive accountability, social justice, and rights of individuals, both in private and in public, all of which are quite central to the preoccupations of legal scholars (in a historical and in a contemporary sense), will have to contend with the story of modern law’s origins that Chaudhry presents in this book.

The structure of the book is quite straightforward, although the scope of the debates and arguments covered in the book are anything but easily assimilable. The first part of the book (157 pages) outlines in great detail the rationale for the methodology used in the book. For readers familiar with the philosophy of jurisprudence and its various off-shoots, this part would be particularly exciting. Conversely, for readers unfamiliar with the names brought up for discussion in this section or the general ideas that these philosophers have written about, it will be very difficult to follow through all the threads of the argument that Chaudhry uses as building blocks in this section. However, towards the end of the section, Chaudhry’s discussion of ontologization and a re-description of what is to follow in the remainder of the book is very helpful for readers unfamiliar with the forest of theory that he courses through in this first part of the book. (pp. 152–157).

The remainder of the book is the historical component (pp. 161–489), where Chaudhry specifically discusses property, contract, status, and marriage as exemplars of the theoretical structure that he built in the first third of the book. In these chapters, by examining in detail the way in which an idea of the “law” emerges in late colonial South Asia, Chaudhry underscores the distinct ways in which rules and laws that existed previously were gradually integrated into the process of the ontology of law. In the process, it not only impacted colonial rule (as several scholars have already pointed out) but also the ways in which individuals and groups approached the question of law, the impact of which continues until today. Again, like the chapters that outlined the methodology, these chapters too are not easy to read. In parts, it gets easier if one is already familiar with the South Asian legal history related to the themes taken up for discussion by Chaudhry. In the concluding chapter, Chaudhry does not summarize the main arguments of the book but helpfully provides the broad contours in which his account has unfolded. (p. 489).

By focusing our attention on origins and the very nature of law and its consequent relationship to society, Chaudhry indeed makes a compelling argument to rethink the way we think about deploying law to our respective fields of study. The idea of rejecting the idea of law as a rational entity that stands separately from what it is supposed to regulate is certainly appealing and represents a nuanced approach, something that scholars can definitely glean from the book. However, it is not entirely clear that in their own ways, scholars are not already doing so. For, in all the works that critique either the structure, the intent, or the application of the law, perhaps there is already an implicit recognition that laws are not as abstract or separate as they might seem in the first instance? If H.L.A. Hart asked the famous question, “What is law” (as Chaudhry notes in the epigraph in the beginning of the book), then, perhaps, we can ask, “What is, after all, a critique of law?” Are we already swimming in a critical history but perhaps unaware of it? Perhaps there are plural ways of critique, of which Chaudhry’s book relentlessly and comprehensively elucidates one of them, the historical dimension.

This review cannot be concluded without a note on the writing style of the book, and it would be fair to assume that this is where a majority of readers would perhaps share this reviewer’s concerns. The book is undoubtedly majestic, and one can appreciate the importance of the arguments that Chaudhry has impressively marshalled. However, the significance, intricacy, and intellectual power of the argument are often lost in the prose that defies clarity. Ideally, one would have to read the text multiple times, but even so, it could still be difficult. In an age where time is increasingly scarce, with readers across universities under great pressure, in a political environment that requires us to be more vigilant, acute, and aware, an important text like this one should be written with greater lucidity. Otherwise, the text’s impact, unfortunately, will be barely noticeable, barring a few who have the time and the energy to read this book at a relaxed pace. As Chaudhry notes, the impetus of the book is not just historical and academic but has relevance for an engaged contemporary audience, and if it needs to reach such a broader audience (academics included), then the book needs to be written in a way that is accessible to such engaged readers. While this should be the author’s responsibility, equally, it is the responsibility of the publisher and peer reviewers as well to ensure that the author’s lifelong efforts are not lost in convoluted prose. For it does a great disservice to the enduring beauty and power of this text. We are past the point of productive possibilities of obfuscated writing as a political strategy. We need depth and sophistication, of course, and at the same time, we need to ensure that the text is read widely. They are not mutually exclusive imperatives. As always, the best way to appeal to the hearts and minds of readers at a minimum is through accessible prose. On this point, I am sure Chaudhry and others would wholeheartedly agree.