Remarkable forms of self-governance and collective identity developed within these carceral communities, another means of dealing with the deprivations of captivity. They encouraged solidarity and mutual support, especially among poorer prisoners. And yet, ironically, they could enable greater social control within the prison. Chapter 4 analyses the corporations – headed by elected or customarily selected stewards – through which prisoners managed life inside. They provided the foundations for practical and symbolic collective identities that prisoners also communicated to the wider world. Based around the administration of charity, this culture of self-governance gave rise to customs and practices by which prisoners collectively negotiated their time in prison. Yet although potentially empowering, the formal extension of officeholding to prisoners also represented the wider diffusion of early modern state power into prison populations and an attempt to exert greater social control over them. Indeed, this chapter challenges our view of early modern self-government – often understood as a mechanism of local autonomy and negotiation with higher powers – by discussing an extreme example in which participants could be actively involved in constricting their own liberty.

The villain of the story, then, is arbitrary power and its hero is tempered power. Starting there and then asking where such problems are to be found, and what might be relevant to dealing with them, has significant implications for where we should look both for problem-makers and for problem-solvers. As for makers, Chapter 7 argues that if arbitrary power is as obnoxious as I claim, and tempered power such a valuable ideal to pursue, then any serious attempt to approach the goal of the rule of law cannot assume, as is commonly done, that its targets are just governments and the agencies of states. The need to temper ways power is exercised must be considered in relation to a much larger and more complex force field than that of state power, since arbitrary exercise of power is likely to arise in many places, and so too will reasons to want it tempered. So, we should have in mind much more than the usual rule of law suspects and concern ourselves more broadly with people and entities able to access power substantial enough that its arbitrary use is liable to harm. That will extend to many places we like to call ‘private’ but whose effects are often palpably public.

Large corporations increasingly shape economic and political life, often beyond public oversight. This chapter examines how market concentration, lobbying, and financialization distort competition and policymaking. It traces the emergence of a global economic elite whose influence undermines democratic accountability and inclusive growth. The chapter proposes antitrust reforms, corporate transparency, and institutional checks to limit excess power. Ensuring capitalism serves the public interest requires rebalancing the relationship between business and the state.

The inspiration for this volume is Simon Deakin’s proposal to think of the corporation as a shared resource which is collectively held and managed for the benefit of multiple interests. A small but fascinating recent literature extended this insight to mutuals, cooperatives, and benefit corporations, while an independent literature applied a similar line of Ostromian thinking to inter alia cities, land trusts, civil society organization, and certain kinds of platforms. All these studies noted the importance of shared knowledge, but none deployed the governing knowledge commons (GKC) framework. What this volume attempts to do is to steer the discussion toward this unifying framework. This chapter introduces the contributions, which despite their diversity engage with the idea that corporations and ecosystems comprising corporate actors cohere around shared knowledge, values, and other kinds of intellectual or cognitive resources, the sustainable production and reproduction of which depends on specific practices and rule configurations.

This chapter frames the adverse consequences of sanctions as a product of the interplay between government policy and commercial decision-making. It argues that corporate decision making about economic sanctions is an important factor behind the efficacy of sanctions. Commercial actors also play a central role in causing or amplifying the adverse consequences of sanctions. The chapter presents sanctions from a legal perspective, treating sanctions as legal rules that are limited by traditional notions of jurisdiction. At the same time, these rules contain significant ambiguities and are accompanied by heavy enforcement. Commercial actors respond by adopting risk avoidance strategies such as de-risking and overcompliance. These strategies produce adverse consequences for innocent populations, NGOs, and others that are not the stated targets of sanctions. The tendency for commercial actors to terminate trade relations beyond the actual terms of sanctions regulations is worth studying because it reveals a gap between the expectations of government policymakers and business practices. It can also make sanctions weaker and incentivize the creation of “unsanctioned” trade channels. The chapter concludes with a call for governments to clarify expectations about sanctions so that commercial actors do not face a dilemma between crippling compliance costs or crippling enforcement.

Richard Nixon stimulated the greatest antiwar activity in 1970 with the Cambodian invasion. Massive student protests in the spring grew spontaneously and by fall many campus activists channeled their energy into electoral campaigns. Liberal groups joined them. Government leaders, especially in the US Senate, tried unsuccessfully to restrict the war’s continuation. Leftists and radicals made a splash through the spring New Mobilization demonstrations and with the reemergence of Vietnam Veterans Against the War, but by year’s end the coalition split along ideological lines. By late 1970, mass demonstrations planned by umbrella coalitions were giving way to events conducted by single sponsors. This also reduced the movement’s radical presence. From this point antiwar activism appeared more locally and regionally, even as it retained national impact. Local actions, such as during the national student strike, often appeared and operated without waiting for national coordinating bodies to catch up. Most antiwar events occurred on college campuses and in local communities, not in Washington, DC, and they continued even when the lack of national demonstrations made it appear inactive.

This chapter explores how capitalism has shaped US global power, and how US foreign policy has shaped the trajectory of US capitalism. The approach departs from more well-examined questions, such as quantifying how much capitalist motivations dictated foreign policy decisions, or interrogating whether US actions were determined by geopolitical calculations of realpolitik, versus ideological commitments to democracy, versus ambitions of expanding market share. Rather, beginning with an observation of the inextricability of the development of capitalism and the US as a nation, this chapter examines in what ways economic motivations, structures, and beliefs have appeared in US diplomacy; how centering capitalism shifts the definitions we have of terms like “US foreign relations” and “US global power”; and how this framework troubles concepts we might otherwise have left unexamined. This approach poses new methodological challenges: determining what scale(s) are most useful for studying capitalism; the problem of accessing private corporate archives; how to consider the role of the state in a study that places capitalism at its core; expanding the roster of actors in the history of US foreign relations; and considering how a focus on business and labor changes our understanding of the connections between US power abroad and at home.

Chapter 6 focuses on the political structure of a rational state. In the Philosophy of Right, by handing the bulk of the state’s political power to unelected agents, Hegel is in effect compromising the reconciliation of particular and collective interests he regards as essential to a rational political order. However, his wariness of democracy is more than a mere relapse into some pre-modern, reactionary standpoint. This chapter argues that Hegel is right to denounce the atomism favoured by mass electoral systems, which tend to reduce the citizens’ political identity to that of individual voters, but that he is wrong to dismiss mass democracy altogether. His critique is overly severe because his conception of democracy presupposes the liberal logic of civil society, which he attempts to sublate in a strictly political manner. As this chapter seeks to show, the atomism he argues against is best avoided not by limiting democracy, but by extending it to the economic sphere. In a democracy that is both political and economic, individuals are no longer mere atoms, but part of collective social units organized around commonly held goals.

Chapter 5 discusses the economic structure of a rational state. Anticipating Marx’s critique of capitalism, Hegel associates the maximization of self-interest promoted by the modern market to an inconsistent and ultimately irrational conception of freedom. He argues that the elevation of freedom to a rational form requires not merely a readjustment of the economic sphere, but a change of paradigm, and this change is entrusted to a system of professional corporations in which competition is replaced by cooperation and trust. Yet although these groups can help mitigate capitalism’s worst excesses, they are not up to the conceptual role Hegel wants them to play. This does not mean, however, that his associative strategy cannot be successfully revived. The chapter’s final section shows that a rational economic sphere implies not only the common ownership of society’s productive resources, but also the democratization of the productive sphere. Drawing on the market socialist tradition, it is suggested that the corporations can be fruitfully reconstructed as worker-directed enterprises, capable of recapturing their communal spirit while avoiding their main limitations.

The chapter examines the governance structure of global tennis. It shows the existence of three distinct entities, the ITF, WTA and ATP, all endowed with distinct yet inter-related subject matters. All are potentially in conflict, but there is a great deal of synergy involved. The same is true among these three transnational tennis entities and national federations. The chapter shows that each entity has assumed the aegis of particular tennis tournaments, while the ITF is considered as possessing overall control over the development of the game (outside the professional circuit), including doping and corruption, and is the designated sport governing body responsible for organizing tennis at the Olympics. The chapter examines the particular governance structures of all three tennis entities and briefly sets out the role of players’ councils. The chapter goes on to explore commercialization, corruption and financial governance challenges.

Article 1 of the First Protocol (A1P1) to the ECHR states that every natural and legal person has a right to enjoyment of their possessions. The meaning of the text is anything but straightforward. There is no mention of companies but in common and civil law jurisdictions there is no doubt that companies are ‘legal persons’ (‘personnes morales’). Neither is the term ‘property’ used. Instead, the French version uses the term ‘biens’ whilst the English version uses the word ‘possessions’. Nor does the English text proclaim a right to own property but mentions instead enjoyment of possessions. Yet it is well established in the jurisprudence of the ECtHR that A1P1 protects property rights and that companies have standing to launch claims as victims of violations of their right to property. Why was this not made unambiguously clear by the drafters? And why would a human rights treaty include companies as victims of violations of human rights?The drafting history reveals that the wording of A1P1 was a political compromise,obfuscating the legal reach of protection of A1P1 andits dissonance with the moral foundations of universal human rights.