3.1. The Necessity of Distinct Logical Forms

The question analysed in this section is not whether principles, rules, and policies can be expressed in categorical, hypothetical, and relational forms. Drafting practice can always paraphrase. The question is whether these norm-types could be expressed otherwise without loss of normative content.Footnote ⁵¹

A minimally functional legal system must perform three operations. It must (1) evaluate axiologically; (2) prescribe conditionally; and (3) coordinate teleologically. ‘Evaluation’ distinguishes what is worthy of protection, condemnation, or endorsement; ‘conditional prescription’ attaches determinate legal consequences to specified facts; ‘teleological coordination’ organises heterogeneous normative elements into schemes directed at collective ends. These operations correspond to distinct logical forms: Evaluation is expressed through categorical judgments, conditional prescription through hypothetical judgments, and teleological coordination through relational judgments.

The argument proceeds in three steps. It first clarifies what each form contributes to legal reasoning; it then applies a distortion test, showing what goes wrong when one norm-type is forced into another’s form; it finally links each form to a distinct inferential pattern (categorical, hypothetical, and relational syllogisms), showing that the forms are not interchangeable.

The thesis is that these operations require distinct logical forms and cannot be adequately performed through a single form. But why is each form necessary?

5.1. Principles: Logical Form Beyond Linguistic Label

A specific legal system that recognises principles typically labels certain norms explicitly as principles (e.g., the ‘principle of equality’), often expressed substantively as “All persons are equal before the law.” This norm can be reformulated in categorical form as “[Equality of persons before the law] is good.”

However, not all norms labelled as ‘principles’ conform to this categorical structure. For instance, consider the so-called ‘principle of lex posterior’ (according to which, in case of conflict, the later enacted statute prevails over the earlier one). Despite its traditional designation, this norm functions as a regulative rule that directs law-appliers on how to resolve temporal conflicts between norms. It can be formulated as follows: “If [two valid norms conflict and one norm was enacted later than the other] is a regulated fact, then [setting aside the earlier norm and applying the later one]__INTERPRETER is obligatory.”

This formulation addresses two important distinctions. First, the lex posterior rule must be distinguished from the constitutive acts of enactment and repeal themselves. As Kelsen clarified in his correspondence with Klug, the derogating power of ‘lex posterior derogat priori’ does not reside in the new conflicting norm but rather in the conflict-solving rule itself.Footnote ⁶³ The lex posterior rule thus operates at a meta-level: It does not create or extinguish norms but rather prescribes which norm the law-applier must follow when a conflict is identified. Second, framing lex posterior as a regulative rule accounts for the possibility of exceptions—such as the maxim lex specialis derogat generali—which can defeat its application in specific cases.

Even in the absence of explicit statutory mandates, legal systems often identify and apply principles in specific cases. Although these principles may not be codified in law from the outset, they draw normative authority from the legal system’s foundational values. During the period when a principle is emerging in jurisprudence, it may guide judicial reasoning informally, reflecting broader evaluative, institutional, or conceptual commitments. Over time, as courts repeatedly invoke and affirm it in their rulings, the principle’s normative force solidifies, eventually attaining recognition as a binding element of the legal order.

It is not the grammatical form that determines whether a statement is a principle or a rule; rather, it is the structure required by the propositional content and the presence of deontic modals (obligation, prohibition, or permission) for regulative rules or existential predicates (existence or non-existence of a legal entity) for constitutive rules. As Mumford and Anjum demonstrate, the statements “All iron bars expand if heated” and “If an iron bar is heated, it will expand” are cases of hypothetical judgments, while “All men are mortal” and “If x is a man, then x is mortal” are cases of categorical judgments—despite sharing superficially similar grammatical structures.Footnote ⁶⁴ This logical aspect is vital for correctly identifying legal norms, where linguistic phrasing often masks a norm’s underlying structural role. For example, consider the principle of good faith in private law, which is regularly invoked in contractual contexts. Sometimes it appears in a ‘false’ hypothetical form—“If [a party enters into a contract] is a regulated fact, then [that party acts in good faith]”—but this statement contains no deontic modal, so it functions not as a prescriptive rule but as a guide for evaluating conduct. In its purely value-based formulation, the principle asserts a fundamental value: “[That parties to a contract act in good faith] is good (or fair).” Because it does not impose a direct rule of conduct, this principle instead serves as a general guide for interpreting contracts and assessing fairness.

However, the principle of good faith can also be framed in a hypothetical structure containing a deontic modal: “If [a contract exists] is a regulated fact, then [adherence to the principle of good faith]__PARTIES is obligatory.” It should be noted that this formulation does not define the principle of good faith; rather, it refers to a principle that exists independently—whether in general legal doctrine, constitutional provisions, or prior legislation—and incorporates it as a normative constraint within a regulative rule. Consequently, depending on how they are formulated, principles may either serve as non-prescriptive guidelines, or be incorporated by reference into regulative rules that prescribe specific duties, or—less commonly—be defined locally within a policy’s own normative architecture.

Although some norms might appear categorical in their force (e.g., “to murder is forbidden”), their logical structure remains hypothetical within the legal framework. This apparent categoricity is often reinforced by the compact drafting technique characteristic of criminal legislation, which typically states the prohibited conduct alongside its sanction without explicitly articulating the conditional structure (e.g., “Homicide: to kill another person. Penalty: imprisonment for X years”). Yet the underlying logical form is that of a regulative rule: “If [a person kills another person unlawfully] is a regulated fact, then [imposing punishment X]__STATE is obligatory.” The antecedent specifies the operative facts (the killing, its unlawfulness), and the consequent prescribes the deontic response incumbent upon the state. What distinguishes such rules from principles is not their gravity but their conditional structure: They connect factual predicates to deontic consequences.

Against this backdrop, it becomes clear that regulative and constitutive rules often arise from constitutive acts, such as the enactment of a statute or the signing of a contract. For instance, by voluntarily signing a contract, parties explicitly establish specific obligations and embed underlying principles like good faith and fairness.

5.2. From Principles to Rules: The Practical Syllogism

A concrete illustration of the logical transition from principles (categorical judgments) to rules (hypothetical judgments) emerges when we treat principles as major premises in a practical syllogism. For example, consider the categorical principle “[Equality of persons before the law] is good.” By introducing a minor premise that connects this value-based claim to a specific scenario—“Discriminatory hiring practices undermine equality”—the lawmaker may then adopt a norm in hypothetical form: “If [a hiring process is in progress] is a regulated fact, then [discriminatory hiring]__EMPLOYER is forbidden.” Here, the minor premise serves as the bridge that embeds the principle’s categorical force into a conditional framework, thereby generating an actionable rule. This mechanism aligns with von Wright’s notion of “practical inference,” in which an overarching value (the principle) and a concrete factual context coalesce into a prescriptive outcome (the rule).Footnote ⁶⁵ In this way, the legal system transforms principles into context-sensitive directives.

The same principle of equality serves to illustrate a further distinction—that between the principle proper and the policy through which it is operationalised. The practical syllogism above generated a single rule; yet legal systems typically require an entire normative architecture to give effect to a principle. In its strict form, the principle remains genuinely categorical: “[Equality of persons before the law] is good.” This judgment contains no antecedent factual condition and no deontic consequent; it merely affirms that equality is valuable within the legal order. The layered relationship between principle and policy becomes particularly salient when we consider how the principle of equality is commonly articulated in legal discourse. The familiar formulation “treat equals equally and unequals unequally” is not the principle itself but the goal (G) of a policy that gives it effect. As von Wright demonstrated, any norm requiring an action (such as ‘treating’) presupposes an opportunity for that action, which in turn requires antecedent conditions.Footnote ⁶⁶ These conditions render the formulation hypothetical in structure, not categorical. The policy that pursues this goal constitutes a relational judgment coordinating: (1) regulative rules prescribing conduct, such as “if [persons are in comparable situations] is a regulated fact, then [differential treatment]__AUTHORITY is forbidden” and “if [persons are in relevantly different situations] is a regulated fact, then [identical treatment disregarding such difference]__AUTHORITY is forbidden”; (2) categorical definitions establishing the criteria for comparability; and (3) the teleological objective expressed in the formulation above. The principle supplies the axiological foundation; the policy translates that foundation into binding prescriptions. Recognising this layered architecture forestalls the error of attributing to principles a hypothetical complexity that belongs properly to the policies implementing them.

5.3. Policies as Institutional Frameworks

To illustrate the hierarchical and relational nature of legal policies, consider the contractual institution. A contract operates as the relational policy (“R__{{BUYER,SELLER}}(S₁, S₂, …, S_n) ⟹ G”) coordinating:

1. a) Rules to be complied with (hypothetical judgments): “If [failure to deliver the goods by the agreed date] is a regulated fact, then [paying the stipulated penalty]__SELLER is obligatory.”

2. b) Principles to be observed (categorical judgments): “[Acting in good faith during contractual performance] is good.”

3. c) Sub-policies to be pursued (nested relational judgments): The sub-policy on late payments integrates:

   1. a. A rule: “If [payment is delayed] is a regulated fact, then [paying the overdue amount with interest at 1% per month]__BUYER is obligatory.”

   2. b. A principle: “[Fairness in penalty clauses] is good.”

4. d) Categorical specifications (categorical judgments): Judgments that define terms or specify the policy’s objectives, institutional structure, competencies, or procedural framework.Footnote ⁶⁷

This structure reveals that contracts are not monolithic norms but teleological frameworks that bind heterogeneous elements (rules, principles, and sub-policies) to achieve mutually agreed-upon ends. Such nested relational judgments exemplify how legal institutions, as policies, recursively integrate norms across levels of specificity, ensuring coherence between overarching goals and granular obligations.Footnote ⁶⁸

This institutional architecture operationalises the triad of imperatives identified at the outset: The policy coordinates the duty to comply with rules and the necessity to observe principles, unifying them under the collective will to pursue specific ends.

A clarification is warranted regarding how principles relate to policies. When a policy integrates principles, this integration may take two distinct forms. In the first and more common case, the policy incorporates principles by reference: A statutory provision requires those carrying out a given activity “to observe the principles of good faith, proportionality, and transparency” without itself defining these principles as categorical value judgments. Here, the provision itself functions as a regulative rule: The regulated fact is the performance of the activity, and the consequent makes observance of the referenced principles obligatory for the agent. The principles themselves remain independently defined—whether in constitutional texts, general legal doctrine, or prior legislation—and are made applicable within the policy through this rule of reference. In the second and rarer case, the policy defines a principle locally: The normative text itself asserts a categorical value judgment (e.g., “[The protection of the weaker party in consumer relations] is good”) that operates within the policy’s framework. The distinction matters for the logical structure of policies. In the first case, the internal component (S_i) is the regulative rule requiring observance of an externally defined principle; in the second case, the categorical judgment itself is an internal component of the policy’s architecture. Both forms are compatible with the relational structure of policies; what differs is whether the principle is integrated indirectly through a rule of reference or directly as a categorical judgment.

A legal institution, viewed as a policy, can set forth positive goals (which specify the state of affairs to be achieved) and negative goals (which protect certain existing features or values from undesirable change), thereby aligning with Dworkin’s notion of safeguarding or advancing particular features of the status quo. Footnote ⁶⁹ Within the relational framework, negative goals operate by relationally coordinating conditions, legal principles, and concrete facts to ensure that particular institutional or societal elements remain intact.

Traditional purposive interpretation, focussed on achieving future states of affairs, struggles to account for negative goals. The tripartite framework accommodates them naturally: A policy’s relational structure can coordinate norms towards the goal of preservation just as readily as towards the goal of transformation. This capacity is particularly important in constitutional law, where many provisions function as policies designed to prevent the concentration of power or the erosion of fundamental rights.

Each legal institute and legal institution inherently possesses a teleological dimension as a mandatory and defining feature. From a practical standpoint, policies can be formulated with different degrees of concreteness, depending on their purposes and contexts.Footnote ⁷⁰ They may appear in a high-level form, mentioning only overarching objectives and principles to be observed; in a more detailed form that allocates specific competencies or powers to designated agents; or in a very granular form that assigns concrete duties, rights, and liberties to each party involved. This graduated approach ensures that the policy’s core goals remain clear while granting legal actors the authority and guidance necessary to fulfil them.

When creating or applying a legal institution understood as a policy, the officials must consider the community or context in which this goal is to be pursued. One can observe this teleological characteristic on a large scale (e.g., in public-law institutions targeting economic development) or on a smaller scale (e.g., in the private contract that tailors the pursuit of specific ends to the mutual benefit of the contracting parties).

5.4. Reclassifying Traditional Principles as Policies

The proposed tripartite framework clarifies why certain normative statements labelled as ‘principles’ in legal discourse may in fact be policies that guide the achievement of specific ends. Consider, for example, references to the “principle of economic efficiency” or the “principle of legal certainty.” Although these are often called principles, they function more accurately as policies when they direct legal or administrative actors to pursue a particular outcome—such as maximising efficiency or ensuring predictability. The same can be said of constitutional provisions that, rather than merely stating a broad normative value, set out explicit objectives, requiring public authorities to protect or promote certain rights and collective interests.

Expanding on this perspective, it becomes evident that many norms traditionally referred to as principles in legal doctrine are in fact policies. Three prominent examples—the principle of hierarchy of norms, the principle of separation of powers, and the principle of due process—illustrate this and merit closer examination.

Traditionally referred to as the principle of hierarchy of norms, this framework establishes which legal norms prevail over others (e.g., constitutional provisions over statutes, statutes over administrative regulations, and so on). Far from simply stating a value (i.e., “hierarchy is good”), it coordinates various rules to preserve coherence and unity in the legal system. Hence, it operates as a policy that orders and harmonises potentially conflicting norms to achieve legal certainty and systemic coherence.

Often called the principle of separation of powers, this provision delineates the competences and checks among different branches of government (legislative, executive, and judicial). Rather than merely affirming a single value, it arranges multiple rules and sub-principles (e.g., procedures for appointing officials, limitations on judicial or executive authority, and legislative oversight mechanisms). In so doing, it pursues the overarching goal of preventing power concentration and ensuring balanced governance—functions that characterise a policy rather than a bare, value-based statement.Footnote ⁷¹

Conventionally labelled as the ‘principle of due process’, this concept comprises a complex set of procedural safeguards (the right to be heard, the right to a fair hearing, impartiality of the judge, publicity of proceedings, and so on). Instead of a single categorical value claim, it integrates numerous rules to secure a fair outcome and protect against arbitrary decision-making. Its inherently teleological and relational nature—drawing together diverse procedural mandates—marks due process as a policy that structures and guides the entire adjudicative process towards fairness and legitimacy.

Although common legal parlance labels due process a ‘principle’, we reserve that term for value-based categorical judgments only. By contrast, due process operates structurally as a policy because it coordinates a suite of procedural rules (notice, hearing, impartial tribunal) and sub-policies (legal aid, evidentiary disclosure) in view of the compound telos of accuracy and efficiency. Nothing in this reclassification dilutes its evaluative pedigree; it merely clarifies the logical architecture that enables courts to apply it in a principled fashion.

Furthermore, the relational structure of policies allows for recursivity: A policy can incorporate other policies as components of its teleological framework. For instance, the policy of due process may integrate sub-policies such as the policy of fair hearing—which itself coordinates rules (e.g., deadlines for evidence submission), principles (e.g., “[Impartiality] is good”), and even other sub-policies (e.g., the ‘policy of access to legal aid’). This layered architecture enables legal institutions to pursue collective ends at varying levels of abstraction, from broad constitutional objectives to granular procedural mandates. Unlike linear hypothetical rules or atomic categorical principles, policies derive their functional richness precisely from this capacity to nest and interconnect normative elements, including other policies, within a unified relational syllogism.

Classifying due process as a ‘policy’ marks a significant departure from Dworkin’s conventional terminology, yet it is a conclusion compelled by the logical framework proposed here.

A closer look at Law’s Empire reveals a nuanced, and even ambivalent, status for due process that opens the door for this reclassification based on logical form. Dworkin himself distinguishes due process from the more abstract virtues of justice and fairness, noting that he will “mainly ignore procedural due process” to focus on the others.Footnote ⁷² More revealingly, he defines the integrity of due process not as an absolute value, but as a pragmatic “balance between accuracy and efficiency” in enforcing the law, an expression that already presupposes a teleological trade-off among multiple variables—the hallmark of a ‘policy’.Footnote ⁷³

The characterisation of due process as structured coordination of competing ends—accuracy versus efficiency—is precisely aligned with our conceptualisation of a policy as a relational judgment. In our framework, a policy is understood as an organisational structure harmonising diverse rules and values to achieve a particular, complex outcome. Although Dworkin grounds due process in a deontological justification—the imperative to treat individuals with equal respect and concern—our framework remains agnostic on this foundational question. What matters for the present analysis is that the practical structure of due process is teleological: It coordinates multiple procedural elements towards the goal of accurate and efficient adjudication. This structural characterisation is compatible with various foundational justifications, whether moral, institutional, or pragmatic.

A parallel illustration emerges from the U.S. Supreme Court’s Mathews v. Eldridge test, where procedural due process is operationalised through a triadic inquiry—private interest, risk of erroneous deprivation, and governmental burden.Footnote ⁷⁴ While each prong identifies a specific factor, the composite test functions as a policy. In this light, the coordination of these factors is not an arithmetic calculation of weight, but a teleological calibration of accuracy against efficiency, mandated by the collective will to ensure fair procedure.

6.1. The Limits of Existing Tools

Before demonstrating the framework’s applications, it is necessary to identify the specific gaps in existing jurisprudential tools that the tripartite distinction addresses. Three limitations merit attention.

First, the binary rule-principle distinction explains that norms differ in their mode of application—rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion, while principles carry weight and can be balanced. However, this distinction does not explain why these norms behave differently. When a court encounters a norm that resists both subsumption and balancing, the binary framework offers no guidance. The present framework fills this gap: Such norms are likely policies—relational judgments that coordinate multiple elements towards a goal—and require a distinct reasoning method: coordination rather than subsumption or balancing.

Second, purposive or teleological interpretation has long been part of the legal method, allowing interpreters to construe ambiguous provisions in light of their underlying purposes. Traditional teleological interpretation treats purpose as external; our framework reveals it as constitutive. This distinction matters practically: While any norm can be interpreted purposively, only policies require coordination as their primary mode of application.

Third, conflict-solving maxims provide meta-rules for resolving normative conflicts, such as lex posterior and lex specialis, but they presuppose that the conflicting norms have been correctly identified and classified. When a legislature drafts a regulatory scheme as an undifferentiated series of provisions—mixing principles, rules, and policy directives without explicit markers—courts struggle to determine which maxim applies. The tripartite framework offers a prior diagnostic step: By identifying the logical form of the norm expressed by each provision or group of provisions, interpreters can determine whether they face a conflict between rules (requiring exception-based resolution), a tension between principles (requiring balancing), a coordination failure within a policy (requiring systemic interpretation), or a conflict between competing policies (requiring teleological reconciliation or hierarchical prioritisation of objectives).

The binary model is not merely incomplete; it is structurally insufficient. Incompleteness would imply that adding a third category simply fills a gap while leaving the existing framework intact. Insufficiency, by contrast, denotes a deeper defect: The binary model systematically misclassifies norms whose logical form is relational, forcing interpreters to apply reasoning methods that contradict the norm’s internal structure. These are not marginal errors but categorical mistakes—failures to match the method of reasoning to the logical form of the norm. The tripartite framework does not supplement the binary distinction; it corrects a structural flaw that produces predictable distortions in legal reasoning.

6.2. Comparative Illustrations

This section analyses five legal problems and shows what the framework adds to their reasoning in each case.

First, the case of Riggs v. Palmer is routinely cited to illustrate how principles can prevail over rules.Footnote ⁷⁸ Dworkin’s analysis emphasises that the principle that no one should profit from their own wrongdoing outweighed the statutory rule of inheritance.Footnote ⁷⁹ This account is correct but incomplete.

Under the binary framework, the court’s reasoning appears as a straightforward conflict between a rule (the inheritance statute) and a principle (the equitable standard against profiting from one’s own wrongdoing), resolved by according greater weight to the principle. But this description obscures a crucial step: On the present reconstruction, the court may be understood as having identified the policy underlying inheritance law—preserving family wealth and ensuring intergenerational support—and determined that allowing a murderer to inherit would frustrate this policy’s objectives.

The tripartite framework makes this reasoning explicit. The inheritance statute is a hypothetical judgment (rule): “If [the testator dies and the will designates X as heir] is a constitutive fact, then [X’s right to the estate] is existent.” The evaluative standard invoked by the court is a categorical judgment (principle): “[That persons profit from their own wrongdoing] is unjust.” And the institutional purpose of inheritance law is a relational judgment (policy) that coordinates rules, principles, and definitions towards the goal of orderly and just wealth transmission.

Identifying all three logical forms renders the court’s reasoning transparent: The principle provides the evaluative criterion for determining that applying the rule in this particular case would undermine the policy that justified the rule’s existence in the first place. The principle did not simply ‘outweigh’ the rule in some abstract calculus; rather, it revealed that mechanical application of the rule would contradict the very policy the rule was designed to serve.

Second, in Chevron U.S.A. Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, the U.S. Supreme Court established a two-step framework for reviewing agency interpretations of statutes.Footnote ⁸⁰ At step one, under the traditional Chevron framework, courts ask whether Congress has ‘directly spoken to the precise question at issue’; if the statute is ambiguous, step two asks whether the agency’s interpretation is ‘permissible’. The tripartite framework clarifies what is at stake in each step. Step one is essentially a question of rule-identification: Has Congress enacted a hypothetical judgment that conclusively determines the outcome? If so, the court applies the rule through subsumption, and the agency has no interpretative discretion. Step two, by contrast, involves policy-identification: When a statute is ambiguous, the court must determine whether the agency’s interpretation coheres with the relational judgment (policy) that the statute as a whole is designed to achieve.

This analysis explains a persistent difficulty in Chevron jurisprudence: Courts often struggle to distinguish ‘ambiguity’ (triggering deference) from ‘clear meaning’ (precluding deference). The tripartite framework suggests that this difficulty arises from conflating rules and policies. A provision may appear ambiguous when read as a stand-alone rule (because its conditions are vague) but entirely clear when read as a component of a broader policy (because its function within the coordinated scheme is evident).

Third, the framework illuminates how identical legal texts may yield divergent outcomes across jurisdictions without logical inconsistency. Consider a constitutional principle affirming the right to health, coupled with a statutory rule obliging the state to provide essential medicines. In two states within the same federal system, identical legal texts may yield divergent outcomes regarding the subsidy of an expensive medication for a rare disease. Under a binary rule-principle model, one might conclude either that the principle ‘weighs’ differently in each state or that the rule is being applied inconsistently—both unsatisfying explanations that suggest either arbitrariness or error.

The tripartite framework reveals a more precise account: Each state enacts a distinct healthcare policy—a relational judgment that coordinates the principle (right to health), the rule (duty to provide), budgetary appropriation rules, empirical data on disease prevalence, and fiscal constraints towards the attainable goal (G) of equitable care within available means. The policy is the locus where collective will (Wollen) interacts with factual possibilities (Sein) to produce a context-sensitive prescription (Sollen). Hence, what varies is not the weight of the principle per se, but the teleological architecture that translates that principle into concrete obligations under contingent circumstances.

This example also demonstrates that hard cases demand the identification of all three norm-types: The principle supplies the evaluative anchor (“[The protection of health] is good”), the rule sets a conditional standard (“If [a patient requires essential medicine] is a regulated fact, then [providing the medicine]_{_STATE} is obligatory”), and the policy performs the necessary coordination that adapts the normative system to empirical and institutional reality. Without identifying the policy layer, interpreters are left with an impoverished choice between mechanical rule-application (which ignores the divergent budgetary realities of each state) and unconstrained principle-balancing (which obscures the institutional design through which abstract values are translated into concrete allocations under conditions of scarcity).

Fourth, the preceding illustrations address conflicts between norms of different logical types, but modern regulatory systems frequently generate a distinct challenge: conflicts between policies themselves. A coordination failure between policies arises when two or more relational judgments—each rationally designed to achieve its own objective—pull the legal system in contradictory directions, generating normative dissonance, regulatory gaps, or compliance dilemmas. Traditional conflict-resolution maxims (lex superior, lex specialis, lex posterior) are ill-equipped to resolve such failures because they presuppose conflicts between discrete, conditionally structured norms (rules) or even between values (principles). Policies, however, conflict not as contradictory prescriptions but as competing teleological architectures—each integrating a distinct configuration of rules, principles, and sub-policies towards a different systemic end.

Consider a legal system that simultaneously pursues two policies: Policy_A, “Affordable Housing” (a relational judgment coordinating zoning rules, subsidies, and tenant-protection principles towards the goal of increasing housing supply and accessibility), and Policy_B, “Environmental Sustainability” (a relational judgment coordinating emissions standards, green-space preservation rules, and precautionary principles towards the goal of reducing urban ecological impact). A proposed high-density residential development in a sensitive wetland area triggers a conflict between these policies: Policy_A supports it (more housing, lower costs); Policy_B opposes it (habitat destruction, increased carbon footprint).

A rule-based approach might attempt to apply lex specialis—for example, invoking a specific wetland-protection statute against a general housing law—but this misses the systemic nature of the conflict. Each policy represents a complex, goal-oriented scheme that cannot be reduced to a single rule. A principle-balancing approach might weigh “housing justice” against “environmental stewardship,” but this too proves insufficient: It fails to engage the institutional design question of how the legal system should organise its resources and regulations to advance both ends over time.

The tripartite framework recasts the conflict as one between relational judgments and thus demands a relational solution. A court or legislature might craft a meta-rule—a hypothetical judgment that establishes precedence between competing policies under specified conditions (e.g., “If [a housing development is proposed in a protected wetland and no housing-shortage emergency has been declared or alternative sites remain available] is a regulated fact, then [applying Policy_B over Policy_A]_{_AUTHORITY} is obligatory”). Alternatively, the legislature might create a new coordinated policy—“Green Affordable Housing”—that integrates selected components of both original policies into a unified framework with adjusted objectives.

The framework does not mechanically prescribe which policy should prevail; rather, it structures the inquiry by requiring explicit consideration of (a) the teleological stakes of each policy, (b) the factual and institutional constraints (Sein) that affect their realisability, and (c) the possibilities for synthesising or sequencing them in light of overarching constitutional or statutory purposes.

Fifth, awareness of normative typologies is instrumental in legislative drafting. To illustrate, consider the enactment of a legal instrument and the subsequent analysis of its content. When carried out through the legally prescribed procedure, the enactment is a constitutive fact governed by existing legal norms. From the perspective of John Searle’s speech act theory, this act qualifies as doubly performative: It is declarative in bringing the normative act into legal reality as an institutional fact to be observed, and directive in mandating compliance with its provisions.Footnote ⁸¹

The enacted legal instrument is an instance of a recognised instrument type (statute, decree, resolution, etc.), while its authentic text is the normative artefact that records and communicates its content. Linguistically, the text constitutes a concatenation of propositions conveying norms, although not in a one-to-one correspondence between provisions and norms. At the level of logical form, the normative scheme embodied in the authentic text may be represented as R__LEGISLATURE(S₁, S₂, …, S_n) ⟹ G. Here, the subscript _LEGISLATURE identifies the authority establishing the policy, while S₁, S₂, …, S_n denote its constituent judgments—categorical, hypothetical, or relational—which need not correspond one-to-one with individual provisions.

Legislative texts often interweave principles, definitions, rules, and policies, challenging drafters and interpreters alike. When the distinct logical forms of these elements are not precisely distinguished, their conflation risks ambiguous interpretation and application.

6.3. Meta-Rules and the Logic of Conflict Resolution

Conflict-resolution maxims traditionally labelled ‘principles’ function as hypothetical meta-rules.Footnote ⁸² While regulative meta-rules direct officials on precedence and interpretive moves, constitutive meta-rules determine the existence or validity of legal norms. Some of them are illustrated in Tables 3 and 4.

Table 3.

Regulative Meta-Rules in Legal Systems

Table 3 Long description

A table with two columns: Meta-Rule and Logical Form. The table has six rows, each describing a different meta-rule and its logical form. Row 1: Meta-Rule: Lex Superior, Logical Form: If a conflict exists between norms of different hierarchical rank is a regulated fact, then applying the hierarchically superior norm interpreter is obligatory. Row 2: Meta-Rule: Stare Decisis, Logical Form: If a materially identical case has been decided by a higher court is a regulated fact, then following the precedent court is obligatory. Row 3: Meta-Rule: Harmonious Interpretation 83, Logical Form: If two norms admit an interpretation that avoids conflict is a regulated fact, then adopting the harmonising interpretation interpreter is obligatory. Row 4: Meta-Rule: Nullum Crimen Sine Lege, Logical Form: If conduct C was not defined as criminal before its commission is a regulated fact, then imposing criminal liability for C court is forbidden. Row 5: Meta-Rule: Exhaustion of Remedies, Logical Form: If administrative remedies remain available is a regulated fact, then adjudicating the dispute court is forbidden.

Table 4.

Constitutive Meta-Rules in Legal Systems

Table 4 Long description

A table with two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled ‘Meta-Rule’ and the second column is labeled ‘Logical Form’. The first row under ‘Meta-Rule’ is ‘Rule of Recognition’ and under ‘Logical Form’ it reads ‘If [recognizing a normative statement as satisfying the system’s criteria of legal validity] _OFFICIALS is a constitutive fact, then [the norm as valid law] is existent.’ The second row under ‘Meta-Rule’ is ‘Unconstitutionality ex tunc’ and under ‘Logical Form’ it reads ‘If [declaring norm N unconstitutional with retroactive effect] _CONSTITUTIONAL_ COURT is a constitutive fact, then [the norm N as valid law] is non-existent.’

Hart’s rule of recognition is the paradigmatic constitutive meta-rule: It establishes the criteria by which a normative statement is recognised as valid law.Footnote ⁸⁴ In the tripartite framework, however, the rule of recognition must be understood as capable of identifying not only rules but also principles and policies. For principles, recognition may occur through the hermeneutic activity of decoding past decisions (as illustrated by the emergence of privacy protection) or through the explicit incorporation of categorical value judgments in authoritative texts (Section 5.1), while policies are typically identified through the constitutive acts and purpose clauses that establish their teleological scope.

6.4. The Framework as Diagnostic Tool

The foregoing illustrations demonstrate that the tripartite framework functions as a diagnostic tool—a method for identifying the logical form of a norm before reasoning with it. This diagnostic step is absent from existing jurisprudential tools, which typically proceed directly to application without first classifying the norm-type.

The diagnostic process involves three questions:

1. 1. Does the norm assert a value-based predicate about a state of affairs without prescribing specific conduct? If so, it is likely a principle (categorical judgment), and the appropriate reasoning method is balancing when it conflicts with other principles.

2. 2. Does the norm connect an antecedent fact to a deontic consequence (obligation, prohibition, permission) or to the creation/extinction of a legal entity? If so, it is likely a rule (hypothetical judgment), which operates through subsumption. Specifically:

   1. 2.1. If it connects a fact to a deontic mode (obligation, prohibition, permission), it is a regulative rule.

   2. 2.2. If it connects a fact to the creation or extinction of a legal entity, it is a constitutive rule.

3. 3. Does the norm coordinate multiple elements—rules, principles, definitions, sub-policies—towards a collective goal? If so, it is likely a policy (relational judgment), and the appropriate reasoning method is coordination: ensuring that each component is interpreted and applied in a manner that advances the policy’s objective.

This diagnostic approach does not guarantee correct outcomes, but it reduces categorical mistakes—errors that arise from applying the wrong reasoning method to a given norm-type. A judge who treats a policy as a rule will apply it too rigidly, ignoring its coordinating function. A legislature that drafts a policy as a series of independent rules will produce a statute that lacks internal coherence. By identifying logical form before application, legal actors can select the method appropriate to the norm at hand.

6.5. The Musical Analogy: From Score to Performance

Given the structural complexity of legal systems, a musical analogy offers a useful heuristic for understanding how these abstract forms translate into concrete legal practice.Footnote ⁸⁵

One may liken the existing legal reality (Sein) to a piano, where each key represents a basic element—a categorical judgment that asserts a fundamental value or fact. Just as an individual key produces a distinct tone, each categorical judgment offers a stand-alone assertion within the legal framework. When multiple keys are played together to form a chord, they yield a composite sound analogous to a hypothetical judgment, integrating individual elements into a unit that produces a specific legal consequence. The musical score, in turn, symbolises the relational judgment, serving as a formal document that outlines how individual notes and chords should be coordinated to achieve the intended performance. The score corresponds to the normative artefact produced by the constitutive act and encodes the relational judgment, while its live performance represents the institutional realisation of that judgment through interpretation and execution. Furthermore, the composer in this analogy symbolises the authority—comparable to a legislator—who drafts and creates the musical score. Central to the analogy is the role of the conductor, who interprets and brings the musical score to life by guiding the overall performance. Equally important is the role of the pianist, who, by executing the actual performance, translates the interpreted score into a concrete outcome. In the legal arena, while the judge functions much like the conductor—‘performing’ relational syllogisms through interpretation—the executing agent or institution acts as the pianist, actualising the decision and ensuring that the legal norms resonate in practice. This illustrates how a constitutive act produces a normative artefact (the score) that encodes norm-statements, while the corresponding legal norms are realised in institutional practice (the performed music) through both the interpretative and integrative role of the judge (the conductor) and the executing role of the practitioner (the pianist).

This musical metaphor makes the framework’s added value explicit: Because a score must both respect what is already written (retrospective coherence) and guide the performers towards the intended sound (prospective orientation), it captures in a single image the dual task that legal reasoning faces—honouring settled doctrine while steering future conduct. By showing how categorical principles (single notes), hypothetical rules (chords), and relational policies (the full orchestration) are synchronised under a purposive ‘conductor’, the analogy depicts law as a dynamic, goal-directed performance rather than the essentially backward-looking storytelling of Dworkin’s chain-novel. While this emphasis on teleological realisation differs from Dworkin’s narrative metaphor of the chain-novel—which stresses retrospective coherence—the two perspectives need not be incompatible.Footnote ⁸⁶ The present framework simply highlights a dimension (prospective coordination) that the chain-novel metaphor underemphasises.

6.6. Contemporary Applications: The Regulatory State, Smart Contracts, and Artificial Intelligence

The tripartite framework acquires particular significance in light of three contemporary developments that are reshaping legal practice: the complexity of the modern regulatory state, the emergence of smart contracts, and the application of artificial intelligence to legal reasoning.

Contemporary legal systems are characterised by complex regulatory schemes. Financial regulation, environmental law, data protection, healthcare governance, and competition policy all exhibit a common structural feature: They are not collections of independent rules but integrated normative architectures designed to achieve complex, often competing, objectives. As the GDPR example discussed in Section 3 illustrates, the Regulation coordinates definitional provisions, substantive rights and obligations, enforcement mechanisms, and exception clauses to protect personal data while enabling lawful processing.

Traditional legal analysis, focussed on individual rules, struggles to capture how these regulatory components interact. A provision interpreted in isolation may yield a result that frustrates the regulation’s systemic objectives.Footnote ⁸⁷

Smart contracts—self-executing agreements encoded in software—represent an innovation in legal technology.Footnote ⁸⁸ Their core mechanism is the automated execution of conditional prescriptions: If specified conditions are met, predetermined consequences follow without human intervention. In the terminology of our framework, smart contracts operationalise hypothetical judgments (rules) in computational form.

However, the framework reveals inherent limits to what smart contracts can achieve. Categorical judgments (principles) resist automation because they require evaluative assessment that cannot be reduced to conditional logic. A smart contract cannot determine whether a party acted in ‘good faith’ or whether a contractual term is ‘unconscionable’—such determinations require the kind of value-based reasoning that principles demand. Similarly, relational judgments (policies) resist full automation because their coordinating function presupposes interpretation of how multiple norms interact towards a shared goal.

This analysis suggests a division of labour between automated and human legal reasoning. Smart contracts are well-suited for executing clearly defined rules—payment upon delivery, automatic penalties for delay, transfer of title upon condition. But the integration of these rules into broader contractual policies, and their interpretation in light of governing principles, remain the province of human judgment. The tripartite framework thus provides criteria for determining which aspects of legal practice can be automated and which resist full automation and therefore require human evaluative judgment.Footnote ⁸⁹

Artificial intelligence (AI) systems are increasingly deployed to assist legal research, predict case outcomes, review documents, and even draft legal texts.

The tripartite framework offers a conceptual architecture that can inform the design and deployment of legal AI. An AI system tasked with analysing a regulatory scheme must be able to distinguish among: (1) definitional provisions that establish the scheme’s conceptual vocabulary; (2) rules that prescribe specific conduct or constitute legal entities; (3) principles that provide evaluative standards; and (4) the policy structure that coordinates these elements towards regulatory objectives. Without this differentiation, the system may treat all provisions uniformly, missing the functional distinctions that determine how each should be interpreted and applied. Moreover, mapping norms to distinct logical forms favours neuro-symbolic approaches to legal AI, supplying the structured grammar that symbolic engines require to complement neural language models.Footnote ⁹⁰

These contemporary applications underscore that the tripartite framework is not merely a refinement of jurisprudential theory but a practical tool for navigating the evolving landscape of legal practice. As law becomes increasingly complex, technologically mediated, and globally interconnected, the need for conceptual clarity about the types of norms that constitute legal systems becomes ever more pressing.

7.1. Objection: Dworkin’s Later Evolution

An objection might be raised against our project, arguing that it focusses on Dworkin’s early distinction between principles and policies—a distinction that Dworkin himself later transcended. On this reading (associated with Shapiro’s reconstruction of Dworkin’s pre-Law’s Empire work), Dworkin’s later writings repudiate the taxonomic concept of law—the idea that law consists of a discrete stock of standards that we can isolate and classify. Dworkin does, indeed, reject that picture in Justice in Robes: “The idea of law as a set of discrete standards, which we might in principle individuate and count, seems to me a scholastic fiction.”Footnote ⁹¹ Yet that passage does not amount to a retreat from the distinction as such. Later in the same book, in responding to Shapiro’s reconstruction, he denies any break between his earlier and later arguments on this point: “But I do not believe that my later arguments are different from my earlier ones in any important respect.”Footnote ⁹² He explains that his target was “doctrinal, not taxonomic, positivism.”Footnote ⁹³ The point, in other words, is not to deny that different kinds of propositions operate differently in legal justification, but to reject the inference that everything relevant to the truth of propositions of law must therefore be counted as belonging to a fixed inventory of ‘legal standards’. Our project, accordingly, does not engage in inventory-style taxonomy. It preserves the distinction at the level that Dworkin’s later clarification itself supports: as a differentiation of logical forms required to make sense of the phenomenology of legal reasoning and justification.

Whether or not one accepts Dworkin’s constructive interpretation of law, the logical distinction between principles, rules, and policies remains independently defensible. For Dworkin, the very possibility of integrity rests on a strict institutional division of labour. This is especially clear in common-law adjudication, where the justification of novel rights and duties must proceed on grounds of principle rather than on legislative-style policy choice. A different, although related, challenge emerges, however, when courts are tasked not with creating law, but with interpreting statutes enacted by legislatures. These statutes are themselves often replete with policies. Our project, therefore, does not challenge Dworkin’s foundational separation. Rather, it confronts the subsequent question that he leaves open: How can a judge apply a legislated policy in a way that remains consistent with the judicial role of upholding principle?

Another dimension of these debates emerges from Dworkin’s distinction that “[a]rguments of principle are arguments intended to establish an individual right; arguments of policy are arguments intended to establish a collective goal.”Footnote ⁹⁴ As Donald Regan correctly emphasises, Dworkin maintains that when a case hinges on individual rights, policy-based justifications can be reconceived effectively as principle-based arguments.Footnote ⁹⁵ Additionally, the posthumously-published Hart manuscript shows that courts do, in practice, openly invoke policy considerations as such, frequently appealing to the public interest or collective welfare without necessarily recasting these concerns as individual rights.Footnote ⁹⁶ The teleological framework proposed here resolves this apparent dichotomy by providing a structural explanation for these judicial practices. It accommodates Hart’s observation that courts openly use policies by demonstrating that they do so through a distinct mode of reasoning. This reasoning, in turn, aligns with Regan’s insight, as it effectively recasts the application of a collective goal (a policy) in a manner consistent with the overarching demands of principle and the individual rights they protect.

7.2. Objection: The Categorical Nature of Legal Principles

A distinct objection targets the framework’s classification of principles as categorical judgments. Philippa Foot rejected the notion that moral ought is intrinsically categorical. Footnote ⁹⁷ In her account, moral prescriptions resemble hypothetical imperatives, such as: “If one wants to be a respectable philosopher one should get up in the mornings and do some work.”Footnote ⁹⁸ Foot’s view thus undercuts the idea of moral or legal principles as unconditional. If moral norms function like Foot’s interpretation of Kant’s “hypothetical imperatives,” someone who lacks the relevant motivation could ignore them without irrationality.Footnote ⁹⁹ However, legal systems generally do not allow individuals to opt out of fundamental principles: A person’s indifference to equality, for example, is no legal justification for discrimination.

Although moral imperatives, as described by Philippa Foot, share a superficial resemblance to the “if… then…” structure of legal rules, they differ in an essential respect. Foot’s moral “ought” rests on the individual’s personal endorsement of particular ends.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ By contrast, on the present account, the hypothetical imperatives of law derive from the collective will and compel compliance irrespective of personal inclination. Thus, when the legally stipulated antecedent occurs (e.g., encountering a red traffic light), an obligation follows regardless of whether the agent personally endorses the rationale behind that rule.

A helpful perspective on Foot’s position emerges if we consider Georg von Wright’s broader taxonomy of norms. Georg von Wright distinguishes between several types of norms, including rules, prescriptions, directives or “technical norms,” customs, moral principles, and what he terms “ideal rules.”Footnote ¹⁰¹ These distinctions highlight a key divergence between moral and legal normativity. Foot’s insistence that moral ‘ought’ operate like ends-based imperatives tied to desires or goals rather than being categorically binding arguably aligns more closely with what Georg von Wright identifies as either “directives” (i.e., conditional norms advising certain means to achieve given ends) or with “ideal rules,” which specify characteristics that a “good” person, professional, or artefact ought to possess.Footnote ¹⁰² Such norms differ from regulative rules in the strict sense and from principles in that they allow for departure if the relevant end or ideal is no longer pursued. Hence, when Foot posits that an agent can opt out of moral prescriptions by withdrawing the relevant motivation, she highlights a form of normativity that does not resemble the binding force of principles, nor the all-or-nothing application of rules.

Specifically, if legal principles are categorical judgments that assert values, how can this be reconciled with Dworkin’s claim that principles carry “weight” and must be balanced in hard cases? In the present framework, weight is a relational attribute that emerges in two steps without altering a principle’s categorical form. First, the legal order itself fixes axiological tiers through higher-order categorical meta-principles—such as constitutional clauses that declare human dignity to outrank purely economic interests—thereby assigning an ex-ante degree of precedence. Second, when principles collide in concreto—say, freedom of expression (“Free speech is good”) versus protection of honour (“Respect for personal dignity is good”)—the adjudicator employs a regulative meta-rule: If [applying P₁ would frustrate the legally endorsed goal more gravely than applying P₂] is a regulated fact, then [applying P₂]__INTERPRETER is obligatory. This comparison modulates the conclusiveness of each principle in the particular case while leaving its logical status (“X is good”) intact. Balancing, therefore, is not an ‘external optimisation calculus’ but a structured comparison of precedence already authorised by the legal system; it preserves the categorical nature of principles even as it equips courts and legislatures with an internal method for reconciling competing values.Footnote ¹⁰³

7.3. Objection: Terminological Convention

An objection arises from standard legal terminology: Many foundational norms explicitly designated as ‘principles’ in constitutional or statutory texts—such as the principle of due process or the principle of separation of powers presented in Section 5.4—appear to contradict their classification as policies within this framework. Critics may argue that if authoritative legal sources label these constructs as principles, they cannot logically align with the relational structure of policies. This critique hinges on a terminological tension between conventional legal discourse and our proposed framework. However, the objection conflates linguistic convention with logical form.

As Juan Etcheverry observes, debates about legal principles risk becoming “dialogues of the deaf” precisely because the term admits multiple meanings—including what he identifies, following Genaro Carrió’s enumeration, as “[p]rinciples as policies:” political mandatory guidelines directed primarily at state authorities that only in particular circumstances generate individual rights.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ Legal texts frequently employ ‘principle’ as a broad, non-technical label for norms perceived as foundational, irrespective of their structural characteristics.

The framework does not deny the historical or doctrinal usage of ‘principle’ but clarifies that such norms, when analysed for their operative logic, function as teleological policies. The terminological mismatch is doctrinal, not logical. This reinforces the need to prioritise structural analysis over colloquial labelling in jurisprudential theory.Footnote ¹⁰⁵

7.4. Objection: Parsimony and the Need for a Tripartite Distinction

A related objection invokes Occam’s razor: If principles can prescribe ends to be attained, why introduce policies as a separate category? Proponents of a binary framework argue that principles, understood as norms governing generic actions, already perform the coordinating function attributed here to policies.Footnote ¹⁰⁶ On this view, the tripartite distinction multiplies entities beyond necessity.

The response to this objection lies in the logical foundations established in Section 3.1. The tripartite distinction derives from three irreducible forms of syllogistic reasoning—categorical, hypothetical, and relational—each possessing distinct expressive capacities. As demonstrated there, a categorical syllogism predicates something of a single subject, a hypothetical syllogism connects an antecedent to a consequent within a single state of affairs, and a relational syllogism coordinates multiple elements across different dimensions towards a shared objective. These are not three labels for the same logical operation; they represent fundamentally different inferential structures with correspondingly different normative applications.

The distortion test in Section 3.1 confirms this irreducibility: Attempts to express a policy as a principle (losing institutional architecture) or as a conjunction of rules (losing teleological unity) produce identifiable deficiencies. The parsimony objection thus rests on an equivocation, assuming that ‘prescribing ends’ is a single operation performable through one normative category. Law relates to ends in two fundamentally different ways: affirming that an end is valuable (the work of principles as categorical judgments), and designing the normative architecture through which that end is to be pursued (the work of policies as relational judgments).

One consequence of collapsing policies into principles is a drift towards what might be termed ‘pan-principlism’—a tendency observable in certain applications of Alexy’s optimisation model.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ When principles are made to perform the coordinating work that properly belongs to policies, they become susceptible to ad hoc optimisation at the adjudicator’s discretion. The result is a familiar pattern: Rules favouring the desired outcome are applied; rules that do not are displaced through invoking a ‘principle’ of sufficient weight. Without the structural constraint that policies provide—the requirement that norms be interpreted in light of an institutionally-defined collective goal—principled reasoning degenerates into selective invocation, increasing decisional variability and undermining legal certainty.

Another objection contends that rules can coordinate other rules instrumentally—appropriation rules, for instance, create budgetary authorisations that enable allocation rules, all under the evaluative ‘umbrella’ of equitable allocation of public resources. If so, the coordinating function attributed to policies would be redundant.

This objection, however, misidentifies the locus of coordination. Consider the structure it describes. A constitutive rule provides: “If [validly enacting a healthcare appropriation]__LEGISLATURE is a constitutive fact, then [the healthcare appropriation] is existent.” A regulative rule provides: “If [the healthcare appropriation exists] is a regulated fact, then [allocating the authorised funds to healthcare]__STATE is obligatory.” The second rule presupposes the outcome of the first. Yet the relation of coordination between them—the proposition that both rules must operate jointly towards the goal of equitable allocation of public resources—is expressed by neither. Each rule is a self-contained hypothetical judgment connecting its own antecedent to its own consequent. Neither rule states: “These norms shall be interpreted as components of a unified scheme directed at G.” That proposition is the policy. It is the relational judgment R__LEGISLATURE(S₁, S₂, …, S_n) ⟹ G that integrates the constitutive rule, the regulative rule, the categorical principle (“[Equitable allocation of public resources] is good”), and the relevant definitions into a coherent normative architecture. Rules do not coordinate other rules; rules are coordinated by the policy.

Further support comes from the ‘Law and Economics’ movement. The entire discipline presupposes that legal decision-making can and should be guided by policy objectives—efficiency, welfare maximisation, optimal deterrence. Such objectives are not categorical value assertions (‘Efficiency is good’) but coordinating frameworks that direct how rules should be designed, interpreted, and applied to achieve systemic outcomes. The success of economic analysis in illuminating legal doctrine tacitly vindicates the tripartite structure: It demonstrates that legal systems already operate with policies that cannot be reduced to either rules or principles without explanatory loss. In logical terms, ‘Economic Analysis of Law’ operates primarily within the domain of Wollen, designing hypothetical rules as means to maximise relational ends.

A related objection questions whether ‘balancing principles’—central to the binary model—already subsumes the teleological function assigned to policies. After all, when principles collide, courts often invoke proportionality, reasonableness, or public purpose—which appear attuned to collective ends. This objection conflates the criterion of decision with the logical structure of the norm that grounds it. Balancing is a decision-making method applied to normative collisions; a policy is a normative organisational form that coordinates multiple elements towards an end.

Consider allocating public resources for a high-cost medication: Two states under the same constitutional order—with identical principles affirming the right to health and general financing rules—may reach different outcomes through their concrete budgetary and healthcare policies. These policies, expressed in multi-year plans, appropriation acts, and administrative guidelines, are not ‘principles in action’ but relational schemes integrating principles (the value of life, equity), rules (financial appropriations, eligibility criteria), definitions (what constitutes an ‘essential medicine’), and sub-policies (for regional or disease-specific allocation) in light of an attainable goal given factual constraints. Judicial reasoning here does not reduce to weighing ‘health’ against ‘fiscal sustainability’ in the abstract; it consists of interpreting and applying the policy institutionally designed to realise these values under conditions of scarcity.

Reducing such a policy to a principle (or a set thereof) would erase precisely the relational architecture enabling the law to respond systematically—and in a teleologically informed manner—to contingent realities. Without the category of policies, we would be compelled to force the analysis of such cases into pure balancing of principles, losing the institutional structure explaining why the legal response can and must vary according to context without betraying the normative order. The policy captures precisely this institutional mediation between abstract values and contingent circumstances.

A final observation reinforces this conclusion. Occam’s razor applies most forcefully when the phenomena to be explained follow strictly from logical premises. Yet, as Oliver Wendell Holmes famously observed, “the life of the law has not been logic: it has been experience.”Footnote ¹⁰⁸ Legal reasoning cannot be reduced to purely deductive operations; it necessarily involves evaluative judgments about what is good or just (axiology) and purposive reasoning about what ends ought to be pursued (teleology). The well-documented limitations of deontic logic further underscore that formal logic alone cannot capture the full architecture of legal normativity.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ The tripartite framework honours parsimony not through reductive economy but through explanatory adequacy: It employs exactly as many categories as law’s multi-dimensional nature requires.

7.5. Scope and Limitations

While our framework clarifies the logical distinctions between legal norms, certain questions remain outside the scope of this article. First, the structural analysis proposed here does not prescribe methods for reconciling ambiguously phrased norms that resist straightforward classification into categorical, hypothetical, or relational forms. Second, the framework focusses on logical form rather than on empirical effectiveness; it does not assess whether a legal system’s policies achieve their stated goals, as this demands sociolegal inquiry into implementation and outcomes.Footnote ¹¹⁰ Third, the framework opens theoretical avenues concerning meta-normativity that exceed the present scope. These include the systematic analysis of principles as justificatory grounds for meta-rules and the characterisation of the conflict-resolution architecture as a constitutional policy coordinating meta-rules towards systemic coherence.