Author: chaowdur

Draft Abstract: God and Impartiality

Contemporary discussions of impartiality take it as a notion pervasive throughout morality, especially in conceptions of justice, fairness, or equality. The presupposition is subtle but can be teased out through a look at the moral virtues of partiality, like the special care of parents to their children or the special expectations between friends. These examples ostensibly pose issue to the assumption that impartiality is always required for an action to be properly moral. Euthyphro famously appealed to the higher piety of the gods in response to Socrates’ indignation to Euthyphro’s lack of filial regard; in other words, Euthyphro had faith that impartiality trumped his partiality towards his father. This essay traces to genealogy of impartiality and locates it to a divine commander, then argues that contemporary moral theory faces issues when proceeding with the assumption of impartiality absent some divine command theory. We can identify multiple instances of what I call “the fallacy of impartiality” in moral theorizing, such as the “demandingness” problem, “rule-worship,” and, what Michael Stocker calls, a “schizophrenia.” The upshots of this discussion are twofold: first, it identifies a religious vestige in modern moral theorizing in a faith in a notion of impartiality; second, it creates a lacuna for secular moral theories in that further justificatory work is needed for appeals to impartiality over partiality. This speaks to the methodological relevance of the philosophy of religion for topics in moral philosophy.

Draft Abstract: The Duty of a Stranger’s Deathbed Request

Imagine you are the only witness to a stranger’s last moments, and, just before passing away, the stranger asks that you scatter her ashes in some inconvenient location. Do you have a moral duty to this stranger? You have no relation to this stranger and you did not agree to accept any prior posthumous requests, so it is unfair for you to be burdened with this moral task. Moreover, it fails to compare to any duties of aid or rescue, like assisting with a flat tire or saving a drowning child, since there is nobody (alive) who benefits from the actions. Still, we feel a compulsion similar to a duty towards fulfilling this stranger’s final request – perhaps it is compassion, empathy, or some belief in the supernatural. I argue that we do not have any moral duty to such requests. These cases lack any grounds of consent or reasons for fidelity, which suggests that our compulsions to act are not based on any actual moral duty. I argue that these compulsions can be based on imaginary duties, like a saint’s “duty” (more accurately, supererogation) to devote all of our resources to charity, or a white supremacist’s “duty” (more accurately, moral ignorance) to promote racial supremacy. I further argue that such deathbed requests are instances of moral blackmail, and are thereby morally indecent in nature.

Draft Abstract: borders and genetically modified mosquitoes

A recent class of public health initiatives has the morally questionable consequence of crossing borders; more specifically, they are initiated by one state but have significant resultant impacts on neighboring states. One clear case of this is genetically modified mosquitoes: mosquitoes are difficult to contain within state boundaries and often crossover whereby associated risks are thrust upon neighboring states. While nuances of laws and international policies are crucial considerations, this paper explores the underlying ethical considerations relevant to such classes of border-crossing public health initiatives. I begin with an explication of what makes these initiatives intuitively wrong at the individual level, and I identify three key moral violations: violations of property rights, exposure to harm, and lack of consent. I then capture these issues under the general umbrella of justifying paternalistic actions and take states as moral agents responsible for complying with certain moral obligations. The following question arises: if neighboring states do not agree to the initiatives, are there good reasons of proceed regardless? I appeal to existing analogues in public health as the standard for moral legitimacy and distill their structure of justification. First, there is a structurally “cosmopolitan” justification which appeals to the positive consequence for the global community. Second, there is a “perfectionist” justification which appeals to the goods bestowed upon the dissenting state. Third, there is a “free-rider” type of justification which frames dissent as morally wrong. I argue that border-crossing initiatives are at least consistent with the moral justification of recent public health initiatives insofar permitting certain sorts of paternalistic actions. I then suggest a defensible fourth way of justifying such initiatives by making appeal to a state’s obligations to its own citizens.

Can romance help with depression?

How might a romantic relationship help with depression? Here are some early caveats: I’m a layman when it comes to mental illnesses and there are gaps in my argument that might be supported or refuted by empirical studies. Nevertheless, my aim here is to connect some contemporary methodologies of treating mental illness with notions of romantic relationships which adhere to these methodologies. I don’t have a particularly nuanced picture of what entails a romantic relationship, so I appeal to a general notion which features are flushed out through its therapeutic effects. A trivial example would be this: community is generally thought to be important in the recovery of depression; here, a romantic relationship facilitates recovery by having the feature of being interpersonal. I want to outline some more significant features of romantic relationships that aid in recovery which are exclusive to romantic relationships. Then I want to deal with one stream of objections: that even in the most ideal romantic relationship, mental illnesses is exasperated and incompatible with the normative ideas of what constitutes a romantic relationship.

So what sort of contemporary methodologies treat mental illness which aligns with my thesis of the therapeutic benefits of romantic relationships (in a non-trivial way)? The narrative focused method, or the “narrative view.” This contrasts what is often called the “medical view,” which treats patients as a set of symptoms or pathologies which need to be cured or treated. The narrative approach is supposed to be more humanizing for patients and their relationships with their mental health provider. This, it is argued, is a more effective approach to reaching goals for patients; that is, goals such as hope, happiness, or living a life worth living (elsewhere, there are more specific explications of these goals).

There is a subtle pessimism about the” medical view” which is essential to the “narrative view.” The “narrative view” says that pathologies like depression cannot be treated with anti-depressants like an infection can be treated with antibiotics. Even if various symptoms of depression are suppressed by medication, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the goals for the patient are met. For instance, an anti-depressant might treat a patient’s insomnia, melancholy, and anxiety; however, the patient might not break unhealthy habits or know how to adjust to live a life worth living.

Now moving on to how romantic relationships might fit into the “narrative view.” There is an issue within the “narrative view” method between patient and provider. The role of the mental health provider is something like that of a guide: they use their expertise to direct the patient towards a meaningful goal. On the patient’s end, they are supposed to internalize these directives and execute them in order to manage their disease. However, despite whatever trust, rapport, or relationship the patient has to the provider, there is a barrier in receiving and internalizing the provider’s directives.

This is where romantic relationships, I suggest, might help. I want to make clear that I’m making a descriptive claim here; I’m not suggesting that one ought to find a relationship when faced with issues of mental health.

Draft Abstract: Moral Blackmail

Simon Keller’s argument for moral blackmail might, at best, come down to cases of emotional blackmail; at worst, they are just added motives to be a morally good person.

If I leave a note at your door telling you that I’m leaving for vacation and that if you do not feed my dog, then my dog will die and it will be on your conscience. Clearly what I am doing is wrong, but is it a case of “moral” blackmail? Keller seems to think so because I am manipulating the circumstances so that you are faced with the guilt of a starved dog if you do not comply with my desired end. But is the “guilt” in this scenario appropriately a consequence of a moral failure? It seems more supererogatory than a moral duty; as such, the appropriate feeling should then be something like “compunction.”

Keller places his argument in the context of fiduciary duties, but we can find general examples: for instance, the cashier asking if you would like to donate one dollar to charity. This sort of charity might be a nice thing to do, but it is beyond what morality demands of us; still, we might feel a bit bad if we do not donate. Again, whether it is a case of some internal conflict of thinking ourselves as charitable, it is still a case of emotional manipulation – that is, the consequence of not donating is a negative feeling of compunction.

However, what if I left a note telling you that you must take care of my ill grandmother because nobody else is around to take care of her in my absence? I think cases like this one indeed point to a moral duty, but it cannot be called “blackmail.” What I am doing here is reinforcing a duty you already have with added reasons to act morally. I do not want to say that I am morally in the clear for leaving you that note – clearly I am manipulating you. However, you already would have had strong reasons to take care of my ill grandmother since you always have the duty to rescue or aid somebody in immediate danger. For example, we would not call it “moral blackmail” when I tell my child that if he is mean to his sister then Santa will bring him a lump of coal. If Keller’s cases of moral blackmail are cases where there is a real moral duty, and if blackmail cannot entail cases where you would have had good reason to act the way I want you to, then Keller’s cases of moral blackmail are not legitimate cases of blackmail.

Now, this argument relies on counterfactual claims of what you would have done, and maybe the mere fact that I altered your choice structure is enough for a legitimate case of moral blackmail. That is, by leaving you the letter, you then are confronted with a moral dilemma of taking care of my grandma or ignoring the letter and letting her die; however, if I never gave you the letter, you would not be presented with the dilemma. In line with my previous argument, my giving you the letter presents you with a moral problem and the possibility to be immoral – the operative question is then this: Does me putting you in a circumstance to possibly be immoral constitute a case of moral blackmail?

I obviously do not think so, and I think parallel cases show why.  Imagine I bound you up, put you in a truck, and dropped you off in front of a drowning child; in this case (assuming you can swim) you have a duty to rescue this child. The fact that I kidnapped you and that it is a rotten thing for me to do is no excuse for you not to rescue the drowning child. If you reject your moral duty and choose not to rescue the child, then I do not harm you additionally because I put you in that circumstance. I may manipulate you, coerce you, harm you, but I do not blackmail you.

Draft Abstract: Nationalism, Borders, and Partiality

Nationalism is often associated with morally repugnant behaviors of partiality, like prejudice, selfishness, or bias. Some have taken a deflationary approach to nationalism by tracing it to tribal psychology, and further contend that nationalism is not only groundless but harmful as well. These approaches to nationalism are not fruitful. Nationalism should be conceived as a moral phenomenon and analyzed as such. While many features of nationalism are morally wrong, there appear to be some virtues associated with nationalism. One such virtue of nationalism is the desire for the success and flourishing of one’s own nation, which can be compared more generally to virtuous partial behavior like a parent’s special concern for their child. Although impartiality is crucial to moral thinking – especially in ideas of equality, fairness, or justice – many contemporary commentators have noted that this often leads to an unwarranted emphasis on impartiality which similarly results in an absurd picture of morality.

In this paper, I begin by establishing the argument that partial moral obligations are tied to the necessary conditions of wellbeing, like personal integrity and identity, and further argue that this link to wellbeing is structurally analogous to the way impartial moral obligations establishes its special normativity. Moral reasons have (or we commonly think they have) a special normative force that overrides other practical reasons; hence, I argue that impartiality is conflated with “overridingness,” and this fallacy can be traced back to our faith that the virtues of impartiality always result in promoting wellbeing. So, if wellbeing is some clue to morally right actions, and if partiality sometimes promotes wellbeing better than impartiality, then sometimes partiality is the morally right action. With this criterion of the virtues of partiality, I identify structural analogues in nationalism which allows us to distinguish the right forms of nationalism from the right forms of nationalism. Nationalism seems to give us reasons for partiality, and, to go a step further, it gives a modest defense for favoring co-nationals over non-nationals.

I end by arguing that the resulting conception of special conational obligations implies at least minimal national borders. Some try to moderate the degrees of nationalism and subsequently fit them into impartial demands by investigating how the right to be nationalistic stacks up with other universal human rights. This paper suggests a slightly more ambitious route. It seems if we accept that we have special obligations to co-nationals, a corollary would be that there is a boundary to distinguish how we treat co-nationals differently from strangers. In a minimal sense, this is a border (whether it is a closed border or open border is a different discussion). Drawing from the works of Jeff McMahan and Thomas Hurka, we can establish a more robust moral justification against open borders arguments based on the universal right to free movement (cf. Joseph Carens). The picture of wellbeing associated with partiality can be cashed out in terms of the “goods” of (1) a shared history, (2) shared culture, (3) and the conditions of local and individual flourishing. These goods are tied to wellbeing and cannot be attained without nations or within a cosmopolitan community.

Notes: Thinking, Fast and Slow (Kahneman, Daniel)

Daniel Kahneman, psychologists, winner of the Nobel Prize is economics (for behavioral economics).

It was a lot of fun to read. I doggy-eared several pages, and I’d like to share that here.

[p. 42]

In terms of mental work, it is suggested that self-control might be finite and depleted, especially when people are “simultaneously challenged by a demanding cognitive task and by a temptation…” (p. 42) Self-control is taxing and it can be further impaired by cognitive load, as well as a “few drinks” or “a sleepless night.” (p. 42) Simply put, “self-control requires attention and effort.” (p. 42)

I’m not sure what “self-control” ends up being on the author’s two system model. To my understanding, self-control is some sort of check in system 2 that needs to be trained to suppress system 1 and exercise the lazy system 2. It’s sort of like having system 1 do a math problem without the need of system 2, then purposefully invoking system 2 to check the problem for errors. It’s a sort of regulating system – like an untransformed werewolf shackling himself up before a full moon, or Dr. Jekyll trying to regain control when he transforms into Mr. Hyde. This is different from just moving a certain practice from system 2 to system 1 like chess masters or poker players do (they train for automated statistical regularities or habits – like the boxer telegraphing punches and countering without thinking). I’m teasing ideas here and they’re not developed, but I hope, at the very least, it’s somewhat coherent.

To go beyond what the authors suggest, we might think of self-control like a muscle. Imagine lifting a stack of dishes: it might seem light at first, but it’s going to feel heavier as fatigue sets in; moreover, if I added more dishes to your stack, you’d fatigue a lot faster. If you had a wrist injury or came back from lifting weights, it’d be harder for you to lift those stacks of plate and you’d again get fatigued faster.

Now, if we push this analogy further, we may develop a hypothesis that self-control can be trained like a muscle. In the same vein of “progressive overload,” we might be able to systematically overload our self-control in small increments to withstand heavier loads. This sort of idea seems to have parallels in memory and other demanding cognitive tasks. For instance, we deliberately and systematically increase our vocabulary for aptitude tests like the GMAT. Perhaps we can train our self-control in the same manner.

[p. 57]

The priming effect might affect how we make moral decisions. The author mentions a study conducted where people helped themselves to tea or coffee and paid via an “honesty box” with suggested prices on the side. Above the suggested price was either a picture of a pair of eyes or some flowers which alternated weekly. The results showed that more money was paid on the weeks with the picture of eyes than the weeks with the picture of flowers. The conclusion here is that people were primed by the eyes and nudged towards more moral behavior.

This informs our picture of moral motivation. The priming effect motivates some people to give more, particularly true of charitable acts – think about the time you were approached by a beggar when you were with a partner, or how generous you are when giving tips to your attractive server, or how charitable you were when the check-out cashier asks if you’d like to donate. All these showy forms of charity point to something deeper about our moral motivation: it is deeply social. This contrasts the picture of an ascetic monk who carefully develops moral virtues in isolation. It’s hard to be moral for morality’s sake. Ideas of integrity or personal virtue might motivate us only so far; maybe we need better motivations, like a personal deity (incidentally, religious artifacts, rites and rituals might be thought of as primers). Maybe when we face a beneficial but immoral act, and we believe nobody will ever find out, we cast aside our morals and act in our own interest. 

[p. 192]

A reoccurring theme in the book is a regression to the mean. When the sample shows a lot of variance, and as the sample increases, the variance will regress to the mean. This has some interesting practical consequences. For instance, a single job interview is a poor indicator for a quality candidate – the sample is too small. The same goes for first impressions in general.

In addition, organizations should not reward risky behavior or punish problems arising from chance. It would be like taking financial advice from a lottery winner or throwing just Hail Mary passes. 

[p. 201]

“Our comforting conviction that the world makes sense rests on a secure foundation: our almost unlimited ability to ignore our ignorance.”

We want to weave together coherent stories. Essential details are omitted or put to the background while conjectures and contrived inferences take the foreground. What does this say about witness testimony? Everybody’s memory is going to be altered by the story they want to tell.

[p. 255]

Optimism gives us a false lens of reality: the world seems like a safe haven for us, the main character of this wonderful story who can readily accomplish anything. This sounds like an exaggeration or some delusion of grandeur, but more subtle cases of having just a positive disposition leads us “exaggerate our ability to forecast the future, which fosters optimistic overconfidence.” This might suggest that a pessimistic disposition leads to more accurate results, thus, should be preferred.

However, a “delusional sense of significance” (p. 264) can be adaptive insofar as providing motivation. Compare two cases: first, a megalomaniac night guard for an apartment complex believes he is the only thing standing between the residents and mortal danger; second, a depressed night guard for the same apartment complex who believes his work is vapid and meaningless. I don’t want to suggest that these are the only two options, but I want to show here how two extreme examples show that optimism and blissful ignorance can improve one’s quality of life and relatedly one’s quality of work.

[p. 285]

An interesting insight that the author emphasizes is that perceived risk of loss is much more painful than the pleasure of perceived risk of gain; that is, we are generally more risk adverse than is statistically appropriate and we aren’t consistent with our risks in terms of probabilities. Again, going beyond what the author presents, this might be crucially linked to why we generally don’t like change. New things, new risks, seem much worse than they actually are – perhaps the people who seek new experiences are the high rollers of life.

“First, tastes are not fixed; they vary with the reference point. Second, the disadvantages of a change loom larger than its advantages, inducing a bias that favors the status quo.” (p. 292)

The author suggests that loss aversion is “built into the automatic evaluations of System 1.” (p. 296) Just like the baby who doesn’t want to give up the toy he’s not playing with, or the couple in a toxic relationship who just don’t want to give each other up, or the salary man in a dead end job who just won’t leave…

[p.407]

We treat our memories in strange ways. We remember thin slices of time and neglect what happens at other times. For instance, if a procedure ended with a painful experience near the end, we take the procedure as a whole to be worse than if the painful experience was somewhere else. Moreover, when we have fond memories of past lovers, we neglect all the rough and painful times – again, our memories are shaped by the stories we want to tell.

Draft Essay: Investment Treaty Arbitration

Investment Treaty Arbitration: towards a more pluralistic methodology

Part I: introduction and scope

International treaty arbitration (“ITA”) is a part of the investor-state dispute settlement (“ISDS”) system whereby foreign investors may bring claims against a state. Gus Van Harten notes one way to distinguish ITA from international commercial arbitration (“ICA”) is by ITA’s unique public law power. Public law is understood by Van Harten as a central concept for international investment treaty arbitration. The reason for this is that public law is associated with the concept of sovereignty and statehood. To understand the assumptions associated with the relations between public law and sovereignty (and statehood), we need to unpack these concepts and we do so through the works of Martin Loughlin. The outcome of this unpacking is that sovereignty and statehood can be understood independently of public law, especially when move from the domestic context to the international context. We then return to take a closer look at Van Harten’s view in order to see why he takes sovereign statehood to be tethered to public law and why this is crucial for understanding ITA. I argue that once we pull apart public law and sovereignty, we can then move onto other ways of understanding ITA. 

The suggestion is that private law offers such an alternative way of thinking about ITA while also making sense of sovereignty. Van Harten is correct to argue that ITA is unique in that it taps into the sovereignty of the state through a treaty’s general consent which triggers the authority of the state to govern its domestic affairs and to arrange its political structure. Indeed, this is how sovereignty relates to how states are understood as legal persons in the international context. However, it does not follow that consenting from a sovereign capacity implies that this is strictly the theoretical domain of public law. I argue that such public law perspectives of ITA are theoretically unsatisfying because it fails to capture the insights of private law theory. Chiefly, private law theory offers a conception of international legal personhood based on rights and relational obligations, which I explore primarily through the works of Earnest Weinrib. This analytic framework can assist in making sense of some puzzling elements of ITA and I spell out some potential applications.

The structure of this paper is as follows. Part I (this section) provides an introduction and briefly contextualizes the significance of the topic as well as the scope of the argument. Part II unpacks the concept of sovereignty to understand why sovereignty is central for public law. Part III aims to connect the previous discussion of state sovereignty and public law relate to legal personhood in the international context, and then suggests some problems with conceptualizing legal personhood relevant for in theoretical accounts of ITA. Part IV takes a closer look at Van Harten’s account of ITA and highlights some features of his view that map onto previous discussions of sovereignty, public law, and international legal personhood. Part V begins by noting some weaknesses of the public law approach to ITA and suggests some attractive features of private law theory which have applications to ITA. Part VI finally addresses some potential objections surrounding the relevance of private law for ITA and concludes by suggesting areas for further developments.  

To set the stage for our discussion, it appropriate to contextualize this topic and offer some background on its significance. ITA usually arises in the context of a bilateral investment treaty (“BIT”) whereby two countries agree to terms furthering the protection of foreign investments or defining the policies around foreign investments. A striking feature is the result of sovereign states inviting private actors to pass the wall of sovereign immunity.[1] This was the gradual result of many historical contingencies, most notably the New York Convention and its empowering of international arbitration beyond domestic legal control by removing “the requirement that an award had to comply with the laws of the state in which enforcement was sought.”[2] The New York Convention, along with the UNCITRAL Model Law, expanded state-to-state adjudication model to include private actors.[3] Instead of individuals having their claims collapsed into their home state and having their home state represent their claim (via state-to-state relations), ISDS empowers individuals to seeks remedies against states on their own (via individual-to-state) relation. Van Harten enters the discussion by highlighting the uniqueness of a state consenting to a treaty in that it triggers a public law power.

While the crux of this paper picks up on Van Harten’s point, we should be careful to separate the normative project from the descriptive project. I understand Van Harten’s project to be largely descriptive insofar as it is an interpretive exercise to make sense of ITA and the overarching legal systems as we see it in the world. However, my project is revisionary and normative, and my aim is to suggest guidelines for reinterpreting ITA as a coherent legal practice.  To be clear, I am not defending the current ITA system, rather I am in a loose sense rejecting it to suggest a radically revisionist approach. This can come off as quite idealist, naïve, or unrealistic given the state of ITA and what we see in the world (I later suggest that this is a product of the legal realist lens). I aim to try and make sense of ITA as a coherent body of legal reasoning in hopes that this can be the trajectory of its future growth. For whatever reason, writings that are critical of ISDS is sparse and often have argue on the terms of the existing framework (entrenched in legal realism). There remains a lack of alternatives or any pluralism in the methodology, and this is where I hope to contribute modestly by way of suggesting an evaluative tool from the perspective of private law theory.

Part II: Loughlin and public law

The status of “public law” often taken to be a distinct category of law that is tied to broader question of political theory, especially those relating to the idea of sovereignty. Terminologically, sovereignty relates to other concepts like a polity, a nation, a state, a government, and so forth. These terms conjure a familiar notion in many of us: the sovereign is the supreme authority ruling us, whatever that might be. Methodologically, it may make sense to start our analysis with concrete examples of sovereignty instead of proceeding with some abstract conceptual analysis; after all, we are able to point to stark examples of sovereignty—namely, our own governments—so we may not need to resort to philosophical thought experiments or hypothetical contracts.[4] Thus, a common understanding of public law is that it is the law that governs sovereign bodies and its relationship to others (e.g. citizens, corporations, other sovereigns...). In this vein, a sober look at sovereignty as it exists in our world can look to history and trace the genealogy of such ideas (this kind of approach is often labelled as a kind of “legal realism,” but we will avoid worrying about this for now). This is the starting point for a conceptual look into sovereignty and public law. The method adopted here follows Loughlin,[5] which he uses to ultimately construct what he calls the “pure theory of public law.”[6] Despite Loughlin taking European history to be his case study,[7] it is crucial to understand that his project is not merely historical. Instead, historical facts lend support to his broader normative framework. He is not only expounding the story of sovereignty in European history; he is also building a general theory of sovereignty by looking at the historical developments of the ideas of sovereignty. This is why he relies so heavily on the works of political philosophers and early socio-legal theorists.[8]

Loughlin starts by addressing the question of how sovereignty is formed along side the political. He draws on sociologists like Max Weber, and observes how fears and tensions are used for control.[9]  Conflicts in a polity are managed through a legal system, and this brings us into a discussion on public law. At this point, a crucial piece of Loughlin’s theory emerges: the relation between the state and the citizens is defined by conflict. Drawing on parallels between Karl Schmitt and Niccolò Machiavelli, the practice of politics, or the question of “how should I live,”[10] is rooted in conflict. On this view, it would be a mistake to address these conflicts by “vesting absolute legal power in the sovereign authority.”[11] Rather, conflict is not something to eradicate, because it is what prompts the political dimension within a healthy system of government, which gives rise to rights and liberties.[12]

Sovereignty manages conflicts through coercion to achieve order and stability among citizens; as a result of this characteristic unity and cohesion, there emerges a “national consciousness.”[13] These early conceptions of sovereignty are fastened to notions of authority and supreme political power, and this kind of view is best developed in the works of Thomas Hobbes. Hobbes understands the sovereign in terms of having a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force derived from consent through a social contract.[14] The sovereign is given its authority in exchange for providing citizens with defence from external enemies, preserving internal peace, acquiring wealth, and assigning liberties.[15] While the Hobbesian story is attractive in its explanatory scope, Loughlin is careful to note that Hobbes’ reliance on the social contract for authority is too limited. Instead, authority must extend to a broader conception of political representation that goes beyond the citizen’s assent to defer power to a central authority. The state is created through the “process of authorization by a multitude,”[16] and sovereignty points to the relation between the state and its subjects.[17] A broader conception of political representation offers a clearer picture of sovereign authority based on the relational nature between the state and the citizens.[18]

The place of public law, and the place of a legal system, becomes a function of political ends. The relationship between the law and the political must be answered in relation to specifying the role of the government. First, we may ask about the main tasks deferred to the government, like taxation, security, education, health, wealth, and so forth.[19] These can be understood as uniquely “public” enterprises concerned with the government’s ordering of the general good of citizens and society at large. Second, we may think about how to understand the activity of governing, like in terms of the modes and organizing procedures in place. This may also involve how a society is ordered and what kinds of principles are adhered to (e.g. justice, fairness, equality). Third, we might ask what the nature of the office of government, which is largely understood through the lens of authority in law-making, declaring war, coining money, and so forth. This feature is sometimes understood through the metaphor of a vertical relationship between government and citizens. The resultant picture of a legal system is tethered to various political orders, and it would be wrong to conceptualize law as central and subsuming the political. Loughlin aims to “draw the legal and political systems into a unified frame.”[20]

It is worth clearing up a misconception based on the common idea that the sole function of the government is legality, and thereby sidelining the political dimension. Loughlin notes that ordering society would require “some account of the source of authority of the ‘laws’ that establish the state and its various agencies of government.”[21] For example, legal positivists might co-opt Hobbes to understand sovereignty in terms of a command backed by threats, or a more sophisticated rule of recognition.[22] On such views, the authority of law is primitive and governments would not have to justify their authority to enforce laws based on political considerations that are important to the citizens. This conception of law as divorced from the political is precisely what Ronald Dworkin rejected.[23] Moreover, direct application of legal theory to the international field is not obvious, especially since many writers limit their focus to particular jurisdictions. [24] Loughlin likewise rejects the presupposition of authority in legal order.[25]

To return to Loughlin’s view of public law, recall that his view authority is more akin to a partnership between the state and the citizens. Loughlin views public law as enhancing the rights and liberties of the individual through the cooperative nature of institutional arrangements.[26] In this sense, public law is “of its nature relational” in that political rights and sovereign authority are mutually dependent on each other.[27] This conception of the state is dynamic and fluid in as far as it “concerns itself with whatever appears to hold humans together as a collective association.”[28] Public law, then, should not be understood as merely prescribing rules or principles, rather it is an open textured practice of ordering political relationships involving informal norms and customs.

To take stock, Loughlin’s public law is understood in terms of political ends, particularly in addressing collective action and social coordination issues. Both sovereignty and the state represent the “autonomy of the political sphere.”[29] The state is a “correlative expression of sovereignty” and an “abstract term encompassing three aspects of territory, ruling power, and people.”[30] Sovereignty boils down to a symbol of absolute authority of the state and points to the relationship between ruler and the ruled. Interestingly, the upshot of Loughlin’s analysis of sovereignty results in a view of the state as sui generis due to its “distinctive ways and special tasks.”[31] As compared to other collective entities—like churches, hospitals, or bridges—the state is created from an act of representation.[32] That is, other artificial persons are juristic because of the law, but the state is prior to the law and subsequently generates the law. Still, it is unclear how such domestic conceptions of statehood and legal personhood translate into the international context.

Part III: legal personhood in the international context

We can quickly become disillusioned when we enter the international realm and finer distinctions of “public” and “private” law are flattened into domestic law. The relational elements of sovereignty breakdown. In international law, the sovereign and its citizens are understood as a single unit, and it is at this point where we might wonder how sovereignty represents the constituent citizenry.[33]These categories are meaningful enough to refer to but not salient enough to engage in any definitive conceptual analysis. Moreover, the question of what international (or transnational) law is also unsettled, especially in its methodological approach and its ontology of law.[34] In the international context, the legal personhood of a state is not straightforwardly derived from (or reduced to) concepts in public law in the domestic context.

Loughlin provides a comprehensive and convincing account of sovereignty in the domestic context, but it is unclear whether such conceptions of sovereignty translate into the international context. Certainly, some elements of the domestic conception of sovereignty can be imported into the international context. Domestic conceptions of sovereignty, as well as statehood, may have some purchase in that they lend themselves as a criterion for identifying international legal personhood. The authority and autonomy of a state may help demarcate the entity that is afforded legal status. However, it a crucial to note the conceptual differences in how these terms are employed between the international context and the domestic context. For example, many suppose that juridical personhood or the legal entity of a state can be analogized with corporations.[35] This understandable from the domestic public law context as the state may appear to be one large corporation. But the analogy breaks down in the international context. Unlike in the domestic context where an authority may have the role of legitimize legal personhood, there is no central world authority in the international context.[36] In order to get a better handle on international legal personhood, we must clarify the peculiarities or special features of personhood in the international context.

There are two main peculiarities of legal personhood in the international context which need to be explicated and addressed. First, international legal personhood includes a special power: as one writer puts it, “the competence to create the law.”[37] In the domestic context, the creation of laws is primarily done through public law processes. Legal personhood in itself does not grant this power. [38] To attain this power as a citizen, you must assume a public office and act within the deferred authority granted by the state. In contrast, in the international context, each state has a role in sustaining and enforcing international laws. States are granted an ancillary law-sustaining power in virtue of its legal personhood in the international context. In other words, international law is enacted through states and the international system exists from “different modes of explicit and implicit coordination.”[39]

The second peculiarity of international legal personhood is that the lack of a central world sovereign means that rights and duties are underdefined. Again, in the domestic context, legal personhood might be defined in relation to what duties are owed to the individual or what rights of the individual must not be infringed. For example, the state may owe a duty to its citizens to protect them from unwarranted physical harm from others, and this duty (inter alia) constitutes legal personhood for the citizen. In contrast, in the international context, the relation between a worldwide sovereign and a state is missing and there is no vertical relationship to grant legal personhood.[40] Working from a basis of international conventions and norms means that rights and duties are granted on a horizontal basis between states. They are recognized and enforced by convention accepted in the international community. Some peremptory norms are certainly more robust (e.g. torture or genocide) than others, but there is no universally validating legal system. Another way of putting this is that “international law is an open system.”[41] A result of this is that personality in international law is more abstract and “related to the nature and purpose of international law in general.”[42] The basis of legal status for states appears to be by international fiat.[43] It is puzzling that states are afforded a special status in the international context while individuals are not. Juridical personhood is a contrivance of international law and there is no clear-cut way of defining legal personhood; in the domestic context, such categories are defined by a sovereign.[44]

The takeaway from this is that sovereignty as legal personhood can be different in the domestic context than from the international context.[45] Moving forward, we should be wary of terminological equivocation and conceptual conflation. Loughlin’s account of sovereignty and public law therefore must be attenuated to consider the peculiarities of international legal personhood. We are finally well positioned to approach the topics of ITA.

Part IV: Van Harten and international treaty arbitration

Any account of the conceptual foundations of ITA must appreciate the notion of “sovereignty as a juridical entity”.[46] This nicely situates our discussion of ITA within our accounts of public law, sovereignty, and legal personhood. Van Harten understands ITA as conceptually based in public law for two reasons: first, it derives from an act of sovereignty; and, second, it resolves disputes from exercises of sovereignty. We must unpack these two points in light of the above discussion before assessing the conceptual foundations of ITA.

To begin, consistent with Loughlin’s line of analysis, Van Harten notes that “the public–private distinction boils down to a series of assumptions about juridical sovereignty and its relationship to adjudication.”[47] It should be warned that Van Harten does not take the public-private distinction to be sharply defined and he does not rest any substantive argument on it. Nevertheless, it is useful to familiarize ourselves with Van Harten’s vocabulary before turning to the crux of his argument. Van Harten’s terminology generally maps onto Loughlin’s. Van Harten highlights the idea of the sovereign state as an expression of political representation of the collective body of the citizens; in his words, the state is a “repository of the collective authority to make governmental decisions.”[48] The essential element of sovereignty in the international context is the mode of decision-making. It is on this foundation that ITA is understood as invoking mechanism of public law.

To understand why ITA is an expression of public law decision-making, it is useful to contrast ITA with the decision-making in domestic commercial arbitration. As a caveat, one should again be wary not to take this analogy too far, particularly because conceptions of sovereignty are not straightforward analogues of corporate bodies.[49] In domestic commercial arbitration, a corporation may agree to binding arbitration as a method of dispute settlement in contractual relationships. The decision-making process—usually made by directors of the corporation—amounts to a choice for the whole corporate body. The decision affects the many shareholders and employees of the firm. For the state, the decision-making process of consenting to ITA involves an expression of political representation, or a “policy choice by the state to use that particular method of adjudication.”[50] This is an exercise of sovereign authority in the international context because it is rooted in the same authority that underlies public law.

An illuminating example in the international context, which illustrates when sovereign decision-making is triggered, is straightforward state-to-state (non-treaty) commercial arbitration. States acting within a commercial capacity invoke their sovereign capacity and therefore are not afforded the same international protections for acts of sovereignty. The precise doctrine is sovereign immunity, which explicitly does not apply for commercial disputes.[51] This shows that legal personhood in the international context is defined in part by the role or capacity assumed in decision-making. Put differently, it is possible to make a finer distinction in a state’s actions depending on whether they are acting within a sovereign capacity or not. International law recognizes that states assume a special capacity when exercising their sovereignty. With this in mind, defining the legal relationship between the individual investor and a sovereign state may depend on the capacity from which parties act: notably, the state acts and consent from a sovereign capacity, which leads us to understand the legal relationship in terms of public law.

We are now better positioned to look at a more revealing contrast in the international context between treaty arbitration and commercial (or contractual) arbitration. The conceptual difference, Van Harten explains, again rests on the decision-making capacity—namely, the difference between “specific” and “general” consent.[52] International commercial arbitration is usually between private parties (i.e. not states, but persons in different states) entering into contractual agreements.[53] ICA arises with the aim of honouring party autonomy and “respecting the decisions of those who, in doing business with one another, agree to arbitrate disputes.”[54] States are said to respect the freedom to contract of its citizens to waive relief from domestic courts in favor of a binding arbitrating, and enforcing the arbitration flows from the respect to the citizens to bind and limit themselves in their international agreements.[55] In this case, state authority is exercised in the more limited sense of respecting an individual’s freedom of contract, similar to the domestic private law of contracts. Citizens may consent to ICA as a contractual term or with the aim of settling a contractual dispute after the contract is formed; in either case, the consent to arbitration is specific to the contractual dispute.[56] Outside of the contractual dispute, there is no general agreement to arbitrate.[57]

ITA, however, involves a general consent to arbitrate to an open-ended set of foreign investors as defined by the treaty. Compared to ICA which specifies consent between a one-to-one contractual relation, ITA gives general consent to a broad class of one state to many potential claimants, that is, “a wide range of potential disputes arising from any exercise of sovereign authority that affects the assets of a foreign investor.”[58] The one-to-many relation is unique and it would be incorrect to think of it as a way of conceptualizing multiple one-to-one relations. For example, it would be wrong to think about ITA as discrete agreements with each individual foreign investor and giving rise to multiple private relationships. Rather, the correct conceptualizing would be to think in terms of public law, that is, a state “controlling its own regulatory conduct” such as constraining “the acts of the state’s legislature, administration, and judiciary.”[59]

There are further conceptual dissimilarities between ICA and ITA which lend support to Van Harten’s account. One particularly convincing point is the asymmetry of consent in ITA. The ITA model of consent is akin to something like a unilateral contract in that the “investor’s consent has no meaning in the absence of the original consent of the state.”[60] The investor’s consent does not flow from their own negotiations, rather it is a product of their state’s ITA negotiations and the individual investor simply accepts the treaty arrangements. Van Harten explains, the “conditions that attach to the investor’s consent flow not from an agreement to which the investor is a party but from an inter-state bargain.”[61] This also means that only investors can trigger the process, so states cannot seek claims against investors. Another related point that deserves mention is that the general consent of ITA implies that arbitration is always embedded into the treaty and, unlike ICA, there is no possibility of agreeing to arbitrate after a dispute arises. This “prospective consent” results in a significant power shift to arbitrators and further supports the public law view, “especially in matters of state liability” or damage awards.[62]

To be sure, Van Harten is responding to the peculiar structure of ISDS which respects domestic laws, state sovereignty, and enforces treaty obligations through money damages. He is not responding to a private law model per se, rather he is clarifying the startling implications of ITA in invoking public law powers. For example, Philip Morris v Uruguay illustrates the potential regulatory impacts of the arbitration process—here, a couple of arbitrators deciding in favor of a foreign investor could have saddled a state with a damage award in the billions.[63] Such potential to have remarkable impacts on a state must be explained. Van Harten explains this as a state’s expression of sovereign power exercised through public law.   

To reiterate, Van Harten’s argument is elegant: states have the authority for general consent out of the same authority to grant specific consent—that is, through state sovereignty or its ability to regulate the affairs of its citizens. General consent is an exercise of a state’s authority “that it alone possesses as a representative entity in the international sphere.”[64] ITA is better understood as exercising the same public law authority as, for instance, passing legislation. By invoking the state vis-à-vis political representation, the international obligations generated necessarily trigger public law.

Part V: a private law approach

There is something puzzling about Van Harten’s references to “public law.” He seems to take “public law” as encapsulating the concepts of sovereignty and statehood, which is certainly true in the domestic context. However, as previous elaborated, this kind of use of “public law” translates awkwardly into the international context.[65] Granted, Van Harten appears to be sensitive to the fact that sovereignty must be conceptually flexible when applied to the international context in order to accommodate various political arrangements found across the globe. For instances, Van Harten makes similar distinctions between the “internal” versus “external” authority of the state.[66] The internal authority of the state is concerned with how authority is regulated and organized within the state’s territory, whereas the external authority is concerned with the relations outside state territories. Recall however that legal personhood in the international context is punctuated by the lack of a worldwide sovereign. It is not clear that the same domestic use of “public law” is appropriate to apply in the international context.

Immediately, this may seem like a pedantic point about labels or linguistic games. Indeed, many find the legal categorizing between “public” and “private” generally unhelpful and abandon this distinction altogether.[67] I also appreciate that Van Harten is engaging a specific debate in the literature where some who do not appreciate the radical difference between ITA and ICA may overly focus on ITA’s private law remedies.[68] Here, writers in the area may use the “private” and “public” label as a metaphor for thinking about conceptual nuances. Furthermore, Van Harten is mostly silent on the relevance of private law to ITA and the topics of remedies or relations seem peripheral to his project. As such, my argument is not a critique against Van Harten; rather, I only aim to propose that the public law analogy can be more nuanced and expanded to include formalist approaches.[69] To be clear, my argument is that we can accept Van Harten’s central thesis about sovereignty being a core feature of ITA without the burdensome label of “public law.” The burden of this label is that it leads us to jettison principles and theories of private law which may assist with the development and revision of ITA.

In what follows, I will attempt to spell out some insights from private law that are not only consistent with Van Harten’s sovereignty approach to ITA, but also make sense of the peculiarities of international legal personhood as well as some theoretical peculiarities in ITA. If readers are uncomfortable with my reading of Van Harten—whether my reading is uncharitable, a misunderstood exegetical hodgepodge, or an unsophisticated engagement with his general project—then I invite readers to jettison my reading of Van Harten. Again, my aim is only to recommend a more pluralistic approach in an area of study that finds little merit in legal formalism and is largely committed to legal realist approaches. Private law theory is a rich and variegate area of study, although we need not dive into the intricacies for our current purposes. I wish to illustrate how the theoretical study of private law can advanced the theoretical study of ITA. For this, we focus on features which are traditionally thought of as unique to private law and legal principles that public law approaches to ITA generally ignore.

Weinrib provides a theoretical framework for understanding private law which may help us understand international legal personhood (vis-à-vis ITA). His focus is centrally on tort law, but his general theory is applicable to private law as a whole. What makes Weinrib’s theory particularly fitting for our purposes is that he also looks for what is unique to private law. We can sharpen this point by contrasting reductive theories that reduce public law and private law into a single unified end. The dominant example in the literature are economic analyses of law.[70] Such theories fix the purpose of law in terms overall wealth maximization or increasing efficiency, and legal issues are resolved through a cost-benefit analysis. They seem to collapse any meaningful difference between private law and public law because ultimately law is instrumental to economic ends (instead of having their own discrete purposes). Resisting such “functionalist” approaches altogether, Weinrib notes that such a view of law “fails to account for what is most characteristic of private law as a legal phenomenon.”[71] They treat parties as “subject to separate incentives, without linking the plaintiff and the defendant in a unified juridical relationship” and “operates independently of the doctrines, concepts, and institutions that characterize private law.”[72] Crucially, Weinrib is not looking for a particular end or unifying principle; in terms of purpose, Weinrib explains “the purpose of private law is to be private law.”[73] Interestingly, this is also how Loughlin approaches public law, which he calls sui generis.[74] The approach taken by Weinrib “treats private law as an internally intelligible phenomenon.”[75] That is, it starts with the principles and legal reasoning within the existing body of private law and provide a justification for the existing practices on its own terms.[76]

In brief, Weinrib’s account of private law knits together three theses: a type of legal formalism, an Aristotelian conception of corrective justice,[77] and a Kantian conception of rights.[78] While Weinrib explicates these theses in fastidious detail, we only need a cursory account to connect to ITA. To start, the kind of legal formalism elucidated by Weinrib is in direct opposition to the kind of legal realist approach which has been pervasive throughout the accounts of Loughlin and Van Harten. Drawing on neo-Kantian influences, Weinrib does not take law as a “merely empirical phenomenon.”[79] Some may not tolerate this kind of approach for the international context, but it is important to keep in mind that the exercise here is to draw insights from private law; that is, one need not be committed to the methodology overall to gain useful devices for theorizing. What this means for us is that international legal personhood and ITA can be understood on its own legal terms. In other words, legal theorizing is not solely dependent on empirical contingencies like state history, global economics, or inter-state politics. This expands our theoretical toolkit because our legal theorizing does not have to be tethered to the empirical world. This means that we can bring in normative considerations of justice, fairness, and liberty into the discussion on international norms and conceptualizing ITA without balking about its incongruence with current global states of affairs.

If we suppose that legal formalism is an acceptable way to proceed,[80] we can move onto the other elements of Weinrib’s account. The Aristotelian corrective justice and Kantian rights importantly couple together to generate an account of relational equality.[81] To simplify, legal personhood is understood in terms of individuals being bearers of rights. Kantian rights are a “juridical manifestation of self-determining agency.”[82] This is expressed in Aristotelian corrective justice as a form of universal equal treatment afforded to everyone in virtue of the fact that they are “free purposive beings under the Kantian conception of right.”[83] Rights entitle individuals to a kind of treatment which manifests in relation to others, which, in the legal context, creates a “single nexus of activity and passivity where actor and victim are defined in relation to each other.”[84] For example, tortious wrongdoings are seen as a violation of a right held by an individual which everybody is equally entitled to, and private law reifies the duty to correct this wrong. Being a holder of rights generates a relation to everyone else insofar as it makes a claim on others as a duty not to breach this right.[85] Private law, then, is “a justificatory enterprise that articulate normative connections” in a coherent manner.[86]

There are parallels between this private law conception of legal personhood and legal personhood in the international context. First, rights and duties are better defined in the international context, even without a global sovereign, by appealing to notions of states having equal rights in relation to another state. A breach of this duty would generate a further duty to correct the wrong; while there is no sovereign in the international context to enforce this, a second-order duty could be a way to explain the role of international sanctions. This view can also account for sovereignty by drawing parallels to Kantian notions of self-determining agency.[87] Put differently, a state has legal personhood in virtue of its right to govern the affairs of itself and this right must be respected by other states. This approach tracks sovereignty while also providing a better-defined notion of rights and duties.

Second, this theory of private law may also help us understand why international legal personhood is saddled with the peculiar power to create and enforce international law. Remember that Weinrib’s project is to spell out the formalistic reasons which are already present in the norms of interacting parties. This means that everybody contributes to these norms and sustains them through an interrelated legal community. There is no single sovereign to impose a set of imperative, rather it derives from an associative morality that is constructed by group practices.[88] This better resembles the norm structure in the international context. It also teaches us that international legal personhood is tied to shared (albeit thin) notions of equality; that is, sovereignty affords the same right to equal treatment in the international context.[89]

We may now shift the discussion to how private law can help us understand ITA. An outstanding feature of ITA which is difficult to justify is that foreign investors are able to seek remedies against a state (and there is an asymmetry whereby the inverse is not allowed). Private law may assist in justifying this practice on the basis of a theory of property rights. Peter Benson employs a Hegelian rights-based analysis of contract law, which (although similar) is slightly more pluralistic in methodology than Weinrib.[90] The crux of Benson’s account is that he understands contractual transfers as transfers of proprietary ownership rights. For example, if I agree to invest money into your business in exchange for receiving a return on investment, I am transferring my ownership right to my money over to you in exchange for your future ownership rights to a portion of profit. This account can make sense of why foreign investors have such powerful rights to a remedy against a state—that is, foreign investors acquire property rights once they invest into a state. This right generates a duty against the state to respect foreign investments and breaches of this duty must be corrected by second-order duty.

Recall that Van Harten emphasizes that general consent in ITA is a particularly outstanding feature because it opens the floodgates to any number of foreign investors (provided they meet the treaty conditions) to make a claim against the state. Private law can make sense of this as the state extending a right to remedy to foreign investors. Citizens of the state already have this right in virtue of their citizenship, but foreign investors are empowered with this right only in virtue of the treaty. If it is not surprising that international legal personhood can be defined relationally and by the rights held by states, and if we can understand international state-to-state relations as respecting rights, then it should come as no surprise that states respect the rights of foreign investors. ITA should be viewed in terms of expanding the community of recognized rights to include the property rights of foreign investors. Instead of focusing on the capacity or consent of the state, it is more appropriate to track rights and rights violations.

In this vein, private law may also assist in explaining the liability and remedial structure of ITA.[91] Contract may not be the correct model to emulate here; by and large, ITA is not a contract and analogies to contractual breach or expectation damages do not fit with damage awards found in ITA. ITA damage awards can be interpreted as flowing from duty violations based on private law relationships between juridical equals. This idea of state liability is rooted in the notion of a state as a juridical person in the international context; however, this kind of state liability is rare in the domestic context between states and individuals. Instead, a better fit might be found in quasi-contract or restitution law.[92] Restitution is guided by the principle of unjust enrichment whereby one party is enriched at the expense of another without any juristic reason.[93]

Christoph Schreuer provides some supplementary examples of arbitrators referring to unjust enrichment in their decisions. First, “Chilean authorities in the proceedings accompanying the nationalization of the foreign-owned copper industry in 1971 and 1972.”[94] Second, the “Landreau Arbitration between the U.S.A. and Peru” where Peru was “bound to pay on a quantum meruit for the discoveries which they appropriated for their own benefit.”[95] Here, they used unjust enrichment as a principle of “excess profits” used to disgorge profits. Schreuer’s analysis shows us that remedies can serve as corrective measures in cases “where a drastic rupture in an anticipated course of events has led to a lopsided control over assets which seems unacceptable to the international decision-maker.”[96] The notion of unjust enrichment is can be crucial for the gap between economically developed and undeveloped nations, and it may play a role for disgorgement for bad faith. Schreuer stipulates that unjust enrichment has yet to be “transplanted” into international law but remains hopeful.[97] While ISDS is still young, we may have enough to form such general principles of restitution—a locus for further development in this direction can be “mistakes in the disbursement of payments made by international organizations such as subventions and development aid.”[98] By and large, a theoretical investigation into the corners of private law can generate new avenues of reconceptualizing and reforming ITA.

Part VI: objections and conclusion

A conceivable line of objections is the that the private law approach I suggest is a kind of legal formalism that is inappropriate for ITA. ITA consists of ad hoc arbitration committees which do not follow principles of stare decisis or have a common body of law with uniform principles to guide legal reasoning. Indeed, the current state of international arbitration as we see it suggests a grim picture of elite clubs of arbitrators and powerful individuals skirting around idealistic legal principles of fairness or equal treatment. I am deeply sympathetic to some cynical attitudes towards current ITA practices; however, changes and reform can be possible with newly imagined rules and institutions. My divergence with legal realism can therefore be understood as rejecting the commitment that every step of an argument must be traced back to some positive law or arbitration practices in the world. This may attract a related worry that formalist approaches are naively utopian. It is true that my project is more speculative than what legal realist like Van Harten accomplish. Still, what I think legal formalism offers are virtues of internal consistency and theoretical coherence. For example, both international arbitration and domestic courts have to obey general principles of legal reasoning, such as non-arbitrariness or respecting the rule of law.[99] More generally, I want to acknowledge the realities of ITA while putting forth aspirational modes of reform.

Another forceful objection may simply see my project as trivial line-drawing or creating artificial contrivances that have no real use. This point is worth rehearsing because I frequently refer to a number of dichotomies throughout my analysis.[100] I cannot address the use of every distinction, but I can illustrate the use of them by taking a closer look at one example: the private-public distinction. This distinction is not only useful for pedagogical purposes but it also makes sense of law as a coherent practice that can grow and develop. Suppose we understand private law as Weinrib does, that is, as unified by formal egalitarian principles of Kantian rights and Aristotelian corrective justice. This gives us a coherent way of understanding which past cases are good law and also offers a framework for deciding future cases. For example, contractual disputes that are economically efficient but undermine the dignity of individuals can be resolved in favor of an individual’s dignity because it fits with the general purpose of private law (and is similarly justifiable on these grounds). The Dworkinian language is no accident, and my overall approach aligns with Dworkin’s view of law but I am not in a position to unpack this.[101] This direction of inquiry may help us understand how rule of law and stare decisis can be meaningful in the international context and to ITA.[102]

A final line of objections may accept my general thesis that ITA requires a more pluralistic methodological approach, yet deny that private law is the appropriate approach for ITA. First, while our initial analysis relied on Weinrib’s approach to private law, we need not commit ourselves to his overarching theory. For instance, some defenders of the view may claim that private law is independent of politics or concerns of public policy, but would be a mistake to think that such matters are only subject to public law.[103] Private law can be coherently understood in terms of facilitating wellbeing while also protecting the rights of individuals.[104] Second, we may look to the theorizing of specific private law doctrines to see the applicability to ITA. Take, for example, the question of how private law can explain why foreign investors have the right to redress from the domestic court system (like other citizens), but also have the right to arbitration (unlike other citizens). One possible way private law may assist with this question is by looking at the rationale behind expropriation—for instance, it is possible to construct an argument on the basis that foreign investors do not benefit from expropriation for the public use of that state. Another example related to Van Harten’s discussion is the general consent of treaties—here, we might look at how contract law theory thinks about similar methods of consent, like unilateral contracts or insurance policies. In sum, private law theory is a flexible analytic tool that can be appropriate than economic, realist, or transnational analyses of ITA.

To conclude, we began with an analysis of sovereignty and public law which traced the roots why these concepts are linked together. We then disturbed the linked by exploring how the legal personhood of a state is understood differently in the international context than in the domestic context. Next, we took a closer look at Van Harten’s view of ITA and why he takes public law to be central to understanding ITA. Despite the triumph of public law in explaining elements of sovereignty and statehood, I suggested that Van Harten’s view of ITA can be intelligible on a more pluralistic view. The example of an alternative theoretical approach I used was private law, and I have tried to argue that international legal personhood and sovereignty is better understood when we consider the insights from both public law and private law. By way of illustration, I sketched a formalist theory of private law which employed the language of rights and I demonstrated its applicability to ITA. Of course, a comprehensive picture is beyond the scope of this essay. Still, my main aim is to show that a more pluralistic methodology—like considering elements of domestic private law theory—may enrichen and evolve ITA.

There is some indication in the literature suggesting the relevance of private law theory for thinking about international or transnational law.[105] However, such insights have yet to be applied to the arbitration context, especially treaty arbitration. There is some strain in adopting private law as a model especially when some legal systems do not recognize it as a meaningful legal category.[106] As such, this is not an easy position to argue. Further research may provide a deeper analysis of the parallels in the remedial structure between private law and ITA can be fruitful, particularly doctrines of unconscionability. For now, we can be satisfied that private law theory may have further utility and applications than mere domestic private law.


[1] Van Harten notes further features: “1. Investors can bring international claims against states in the context of regulatory disputes (unlike customary international law and most treaties). 2. The state’s consent to arbitration is prospective (unlike historical claims tribunals before which foreign nationals could bring claims). 3. The main remedy is state liability in public law (unlike virtually any treaty that allows individual claims). 4. A liberal approach to forum-shopping by claimants is, in some cases, combined with the removal or limitation of the duty to exhaust local remedies (unlike virtually any treaty). 5. Awards are enforceable in domestic courts across the globe, with limited opportunity for judicial review (unlike any other adjudicative regime in public law).” See Gus Van Harten, Investment Treaty Arbitration and Public Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008) at 95.

[2] Ibid at 52.

[3] For details, see Schreuer, Christoph H et al. The ICSID Convention: A Commentary, 2d ed (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).

[4] See generally Quentin Skinner, “Hobbes and the Purely Artificial Person of the State” (1999) 7 J Pol Phil 1.

[5] Loughlin elucidates ten tenants of sovereignty: “sovereignty is a facet of the modern state; political relationships do not derive from property relationships; public power must be differentiate from private power; public power is not personal but official; public power is a product of political relationship; sovereignty is an expression of public power; sovereignty is relationship; right are not antagonistic to sovereignty but are the product of its expression; the system of public law is an expression of sovereignty; and public law is solely not a matter of positive law.” See Martin Loughlin, The Idea of Public Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) at 73.

[6] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 4.

[7] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 29.

[8] The conception I aim to construct is much thinner than Loughlin’s comprehensive theory and I hope to make explicit when depart from his views. Ultimately, my purpose is not to provide a compelling theory of sovereignty, rather it is to make sense of sovereignty in the international law context. More specifically, the question I focus on is how sovereignty represents its citizens in public international law as a single legal (or “juridical”) entity.

[9] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 32-33, 37.

[10] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 40.

[11] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 64.

[12] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 42.

[13] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 36.

[14] Social contract theory has deep historical roots that continue in modern political theory. They work on important questions like political obligations and justifying coercion, and, although relevant, these questions are not central to the analysis of sovereignty here.

[15] For an interpretation of Hobbes, see David P Gauthier, The Logic of Leviathan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969).

[16] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 60.

[17] What is important for our purposes is move away from notions of sovereignty based on mere authority and power. As we will later see, this move allows us to pull apart sovereignty from public law.

[18] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 63.

[19] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 12.

[20] Martin Loughlin, Foundations of Public Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010) at 456.

[21] Loughlin, supra note 20 at 159.

[22] See generally HLA Hart, The Concept of Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961).

[23] See generally Ronald Dworkin, Law’s Empire (Harvard: Belknap Press, 1986).

[24] Hart constraints it to the legal system of “modern states.” Hart, supra note 22. Rawls limits it to “liberal” or “well-ordered” societies. See John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Harvard: Belknap Press, 1971). Dworkin limits it to his own “legal culture.” Ibid.

[25] Like Dworkin, Loughlin notes “no precise distinction can be drawn between description (what the law is) and justification (what the law ought to be).” See Martin Loughlin, Political Jurisprudence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) at 3.

[26] Drawing on Hegel (2010, p112) and Rousseau (2010, 146), public law is to be understood in terms of political rights. Loughlin, supra note 20 at 112 and 146. However, rights and liberties are only realized within the state, but this is not to say that sovereign laws impose restrictions or constrain some pre-existing freedom.

[27] Loughlin, supra note 20 at 12.

[28] Loughlin, supra note 20 at 435.

[29] Loughlin, supra note 20 at 195.

[30] Loughlin, supra note 20 at 159.

[31] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 4.

[32] Loughlin, supra note 5 at 60.

[33] International law is typically defined in terms of states, but notably “regulatory programs agreed to at the international level by states are effectuated through measures taken by governments at the domestic level to regulate private conduct.” Conversely, “the decisions of domestic administrators are increasingly constrained by substantive and procedural norms established at the global level.” The precise relation between these two distinctions are in flux and the subject to much debate. See Benedict Kingsbury, Nico Krisch & Richard B Stewart, “The Emergence of Global Administrative Law” (2005) 68:Issues 3 & 4 Law & Contemp Probs at 23-30.

[34] One way some proponents of global administrative law have argued for their position is through an analysis of rights or a “rights-based account.” They note that this may assist in ensuring states do not overstep their powers and the self-policing nature of this order. Ibid.

[35] Cf. FW Maitland, ‘The Crown as Corporation’ (1901) 17 LQ Rev 131-138.

[36] See, for example, J Freeman, ‘The Private Role in Public Governance’ (2000) 75 NYU L Rev 543, 547–9.

[37] Roland Portmann, Legal Personality in International Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) at 8.

[38] While the question of whether individuals have international personhood is contested, the idea that states have personhood in international law is foundational and relatively uncontroversial. The focus here is on the international personhood of state and not the international personhood of individual people (e.g. international human rights violations), which is the main focus of Portmann’s book. Ibid at 13-14.

[39] Portmann, supra note 38 at 9.

[40] The “vertical” relationship refers to the common idea that public law deals with state-to-citizen relations whereas private law deals with citizen-to-citizen relations. Generally, such relations take private law to be the subject of enforcing promises, resolving disputes, and protecting property rights; on the other hand, public law had to do with public policy, welfare, and realizing shared values.

[41] Portmann, supra note 38 at 276.

[42] Portmann, supra note 38 at 10.

[43] Portmann, supra note 38 at 278.

[44] Portmann helpfully spells out the assumptions on the differing conceptions of personhood in international law: “(1) the nature and the powers of the state, (2) the relationship between statehood and individual freedom, (3) the role of legal sources not derived from state will, and (4) the relationship between the actual and the normative as a matter of international law.” Portmann, supra note 38 at 245.

[45] To jump ahead, Portmann also argues that a private law analogy can better help us understand this subject. Portmann, supra note 38 at 7.

[46] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 47.

[47] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 48.

[48] Ibid.

[49] Another way to understand this point is in terms of authority or power. Commercial arbitration derives its authority to consent to arbitration by the state and the state’s empowerment of corporation to make autonomous decisions. In the ITA context, states are self-authorizing and directly tapping into their own sovereignty. What makes the state’s position so unique is that their authority is not derivative and involves a general policy decision by the political will of the state as a representative of the people.

[50] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 49.

[51] “To apply this restrictive doctrine, various tests are adopted to distinguish sovereign acts (jure imperii) from commercial acts (jure gestionis), but in all cases a distinction is made in order to determine the scope of a state’s immunity.” (p 46)

[52] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 62-64.

[53] Like citizens, states themselves can enter into such contractual relations to trigger ICA, but here states are also acting within a private capacity. Although this may give rise to interesting issues, this point is peripheral and can be somewhat confusing, so we need not be distracted by this for our purposes here. Van Harten, supra note 1 at 62.

[54] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 59.

[55] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 61.

[56] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 62.

[57] The distinction drawn suggests that sovereign acts map onto public law and commercial acts map onto private law.

[58] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 63-64.

[59] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 65.

[60] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 68.

[61] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 70

[62] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 101.

[63] See Jose E Alvarez, “Reviewing the Use of ‘Soft Law’ in Investment Arbitration” (2018) 7:2 European International Arbitration Review.

[64] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 63-64.

[65] See above Part IV.

[66] Van Harten, supra note 1 at 49.

[67] Van Harten notes that ITA is “often approached as a form of reciprocally consensual adjudication between an investor and a state.” He rejects this view in favor of the idea that ITA is a mechanism of adjudicative review. It is clear that Van Harten rejects the private law conception of compulsory arbitration under investment treaties and takes public law to express the sovereignty of ITA. Van Harten, supra note 1 at 45.

[68] See Schreuer, supra note 3.

[69] For an elaboration of the kind of legal formalism I refer to, see Ernest J Weinrib, “Legal Formalism: On the Immanent Rationality of Law” (1988) 97:6 Yale LJ 949.

[70] Cite generally Prichard A Posner, Economic Analysis of Law (New York: Aspen Publishers, 1973.

[71] Earnest J Weinrib, The Idea of Private Law (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1995) at 5.

[72] Ibid at 47

[73] Ibid at 5. This non-reductive approach should be intuitive. For example, Weinrib compares this with the purpose of love being its own end. This is also prevalent in the philosophical literature.

[74] Observe also the parallel in the titles of their respective seminal works on private and public law.

[75] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 2.

[76] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 39.

[77] Weinrib takes corrective justice to be “categorically different and mutually irreducible” from distributive justice. Weinrib, supra note 73 at 73.

[78] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 18-19.

[79] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 109.

[80] Again, one need not have qualms about committing to such views. A staunch legal realist can still entertain the prospect of growing their analytic toolkit even if it takes the form of gaining a new critique of legal formalism.

[81] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 58.

[82] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 81.

[83] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 58.

[84] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 56.

[85] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 10.

[86] Weinrib, supra note 73 at 12.

[87] Rawls is another proponent of the Kantian project which conceives the citizen as free and equal. Relations among citizens are understood in terms of treating each other as free and equal citizens. Private law is therefore governed by the same demands of justice as public law, but the demands are applied citizen-to-citizen rather than state-to-citizen. Rawls, supra note 24 at c 6.

[88] Dworkin, supra note 23

[89] See Herik Horn & Petros C Mavroidis, “Economic and legal aspects of the Most-Favored-Nation clause” (2001) 12:2 European Journal of Political Economy 233.

[90] See Peter Benson, Justice in Transactions (Harvard: Belknap Press, 2019) c 10-12.

[91] An interesting application might look into the property rule and liability rule distinction. See Guido Calabresi & A. Douglas Melamed, “Properly Rules, Liability Rules, and Inalienability: One View of the Cathedral” (1972) 85 Harv L Rev 1089.

[92] See John D McCamus, The Law of Restitution (Toronto: Thomson Reuters, 2020).

[93] See Peter Birks, Unjust Enrichment (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005).

[94] Christoph H Schreuer, “Unjustified Enrichment in International Law” (1974) 22:2 The American Journal of Comparative Law 281 at 285.

[95] Schreuer, supra note 94 at 294-295.

[96] Ibid. See also McCamus, supra note 92 at c 2.

[97] Ibid.

[98] Schreuer, supra note 94 at 298.

[99] On a more abstract level, arbitrariness can be understood to undermine the rule of law in a number of ways. For Rawls, arbitrariness undermines notions of egalitarian justice by violating the status of citizens as free and equal. Rawls, supra note 24. For Dworkin, arbitrariness undermines the grounds of law as integrity by formulating a conception of law that does not fit with the law’s purpose in justifying coercion. Dworkin, supra note 23.

[100] To note some: international private law vs international public law, domestic vs international, legal realism vs legal formalism, commercial arbitration vs treaty arbitration…

[101] See generally Law’s Empire and Justice for Hedgehogs.

[102] See, for example, David Dyzenhaus, “Hobbes on the International Rule of Law” 28:1 Ethics & International Affairs 53.

[103] See, for example, broader applications from a rights-based view can be seen in Michael Walzer who takes human rights to be foundational for understanding war international law. See Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars (New York: Basic Books, 1977).

[104] See, for example, Martha C Nussbaum, Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach (Harvard: Belknap Press, 2011).

[105] See, for example, Robert Wai, “Transnational Private Law and Private Ordering in a Contested Global Society” (2005) 46:2 Harv Int’l LJ 471.

[106] See Adrian Briggs, The Conflict of Laws (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).

Sample: 1L Contracts Essay Draft

They Don’t Really Care About Us: The Virtuous Agent and Efficient Breach

The relationship between law and morality is a rich and complicated topic. Seana Shiffrin[1] argues that contract law and promissory morality diverge in some significant ways. Given the divergence, there is a question of how an agent ought to navigate areas of tension between the norms of contract law and the norms of promissory morality. Shiffrin argues that when tensions are problematic for an agent to cultivate moral virtues, contract law should at least carve out a space for the virtuous agent’s flourishing. This is the foundation that this paper builds on.

The boundaries of this paper are fixed by the current state of contract law and common-sense notions of morality; as such, we will put aside justificatory questions of private law and metaethics. To further clarify, this paper does not take a stance on which mode of analysis of law is the most convincing for tackling these issues in contract law. While I focus on the “moral” approach outlined by Shiffrin, the aim of my paper here (contrary to Shiffrin) is not to undermine, for one, an economic analysis of contract law. Further, I should stipulate that I am not trying to expound any particular substantive normative theory, and I do my best to stay neutral of these discussions and focus just on the structures of normativity.

In this paper, I will first contextualize the discussion by offering a brief background of the debate and laying out the issues Shiffrin begins to address. To narrow this further, I focus on Shiffrin’s views on efficient breach and how conceptions of promissory morality relate to the norms of contract law. Next, I turn to an objection put forth by Barbara Fried[2] and subsequently try to understand Shiffrin’s argument in a more charitable light. I then turn to Steven Shavell[3] and his attempt at vindicating efficient breach. I argue that Shiffrin’s argument against efficient breach, with some slight modifications, can survive the critiques of Fried and Shavell. Both Fried and Shavell offer rigorous challenges which push Shiffrin’s general argument forward. More specifically, insofar as contract law, the cogency of Shiffrin’s view of promissory morality requires a further elaboration of the nature and structure of promises.

The context of the efficient breach debate

The stage of this discussion occurs within the debate between two extremes: “reflectivists,” who think the law ought to reflect moral norms; and “separatists,” who think law and morality can be divorced without much problem. Shiffrin purports to have an intermediate, “accommodationist” view, which generally claims that contract law ought to track morality at some points. The accommodationist view can be carved out in a number of ways. Specific to Shiffrin is the view that contract law ought to minimally “accommodate the needs of moral agency even if it need not or should not enforce morality directly.”[4] Morality is needed as far as it promotes the virtuous agent’s flourishing.

Shiffrin argues that a virtuous agent cannot consistently hold the belief that a promise can be binding and the belief that breaching the promise can be morally justified on the grounds of mere economic welfare.[5] The “virtuous agent” is not fully defined by Shiffrin and the use of the term relies on common sense notions of morality. The term is a placeholder for an agent who cares about morality and strives to conform their actions to what morality requires. Reminiscent of Aristotelian ethics, the virtuous agent’s wellbeing and general flourishing in life is inextricably tethered to morality, so any constraints on their capacity to adhere to moral requirements is also a constraint on their ability to live a good life. How Shiffrin defines the content of the moral requirements and whether there can be good justifications for such constraints are points I will return to later.

The best example in contract law in illuminating this problematic tension between law and morality is efficient breach. The basic idea of efficient breach is that it is sometimes cheaper to pay expectation damages than performing under a contract.Shiffrin parses out two definitions. The “strong” view of efficient breach takes something like a consequentialist approach in that efficient breach is morally justified because it promotes social welfare through economic welfare.[6] The “weak” view of efficient breach drops the moral claim and opens the possibility of efficient breach being morally wrong. However, efficient breach might be justified within contract law—generating completely distinct reasons from moral reasons[7]—because it “facilitates efficient economic transactions.”[8] In support of efficient breach, agents should be encouraged to breach when yielding net economic gain, so “punitive damages must be foregone in order to make breach, and thereby a more efficient system of exchange, more likely.”[9] If the moral agent believes that (all things considered) breach is morally wrong, the economic reasons are not “a sufficient, or even a partial, contributory justification for the law’s content.”[10]

At times, Shiffrin seems to be responding to the separatists’ views. One famous formulation is that a promise to perform (under promissory morality) becomes a promise to perform or pay expectation damages (under contract law). Although we might think that in the world of promissory morality that the breaking of promises is obviously immoral, the norms of contract law are of a different species. In entering a contractual relationship, parties leave their promissory norms at the door and enter into the world of contractual norms. Contractual norms signal to parties that performance is fungible (unlike promissory norms) and can be substituted for economic value. Contractual norms are not promissory norms, and breaches of contract are not the breaking of promises. Since contractual norms are divorce from promissory norms, it would be a category error to bring moral intuitions from the moral realm into the legal realm.

Shiffrin challenges the assumption that contract law can be divorced from the actual practices we engage in. As some economic analyses of contract law purport, the divorce between contract law and morality assumes that the parties involved are rational maximizers who only seek economic incentives. It is possible to think that in the context of contract law, the norms of promises are transformed into economic norms. In the same way a token of gratitude is representative of something more than its market price, perhaps the way to respect people is through money. The costs of breach, some economists argue, is already included in the price. Is there truly no moral duty to perform “because the contract did not explicitly specify that performance should proceed even were A to receive a significantly superior offer for A’s goods?”[11] Shiffrin notes the asymmetry of allowing the seller can unilaterally shift the burden of finding a substitute while the buyer cannot compel the seller to do anything. This is too far removed from how we operate, especially when we pursue moral ends over economics ends. Expectation damages fall short of what morality requires. Shiffrin argues the internal inconsistency of this separatist approach by taking a Kantian approach: she writes, “if this were the universalized response, then agreements would never be made. The same is not true if performance were the universalized response to a promise to perform.”[12] Agreements on this view because an institution that is insensitive to our morality is fundamentally unstable and “could not flourish or perform its function.”[13]

It is important to take note of exactly what Shiffrin is arguing. Shiffrin does not argue that the justification of efficient breach is wrong because it is morally wrong or that it does not lineup with our promissory norms—this would be some version of the reflectivists’ view. Rather, what Shiffrin argues is that the good moral agent cannot consistently endorse efficient breach in their moral lives in a way to promote “the flourishing of just institutions and cultures.”[14] Shiffrin is supposedly neutral towards the moral substance of efficient breach, but finds problem with the moral scope insofar as it leaves no space to “accommodate” the good moral agent living their good moral lives.

Fried’s deflationary challenge

Fried’s challenge to Shiffrin’s argument is that efficient breach is not a moral wrong or contrary to morality, so there is no real problem for the virtuous agent in contract law permitting efficient breach. A look at Fried’s critique, regardless of its success, has the upshot of clarifying the problem Shiffrin outlines. It would be pointless to move onto the premise that efficient breach undercuts the virtuous agent’s wellbeing if we cannot first establish that efficient breach is morally problematic. If efficient breach has nothing to do with morality, then there is no issue and the argument collapses.

The target of Fried’s objection is a reductio type illustration by Shiffrin of what formation looks like on a permissive view of efficient breach: [15]

“I solemnly promise to X but I may fail to do so if something better comes along; moreover, if it does, you can only expect X’s market value from me, although you may need to enlist the help of others to pry it out of my clenched fist. Further, let us now declare that should I fail, it will not be the sort of thing deserving of moral reprobation so long as eventually you are made whole monetarily. Moreover, it is not the sort of thing you may be upset with me over or view as showing my bad character.”[16]

Fried thinks that this illustration is supposed to show the absurdity of efficient breach when it is translated into the language of promissory morality. To Fried, Shiffrin’s issue with efficient breach is that the promise underlying the contract is not really a promise at all because it diverges too much from promissory morality. In other words, whatever threshold there is for something to count as a promise, this vague and ambiguous forecasting of one’s actions has not met it. Yet we are supposed to call this an enforceable contract? Fried responds sympathetically in acknowledging that this does not fit with promissory morality, but adds that this does not fit with contract law either. In contract law, illusory promises are not considered enforceable contracts for much of the same reasons as promissory morality—that is, there is no promise to suffice as good consideration, so no enforceable contract has formed. To Fried, this illustration is misleading at best.

            By and large, Fried has problems with the rhetoric employed by Shiffrin. The illustration can be reformulated in a way which is acceptable in both contract law and promissory morality: “I’m thinking I’ll probably do X, but I have to see what all my options are.”[17] Fried suggests that the discomforts would disappear if Shiffrin phrased things differently.  For instance, “breaching for a price” says more to a separate moral judgment about the character of the promisor than anything about the morality of the promise; that is, what is morally wrong about the illustration is the “jerkiness” of the promisor and “that for no good reason he feels impelled to taunt the promisee with the limited nature of his commitment.”[18] To Fried, there is no divergence between promissory morality and contract law as Shiffrin suggests, and whatever problems are left are really just run-of-the-mill procedural problems (viz. formation and interpretation). These procedural difficulties are morally neutral, so, concludes Fried, there is no real tension with contract law and promissory morality.

Framed as a problem of contract formation, it is natural to think that this has little or nothing to do with morality. However, I think Fried’s objections relies on a very narrow understanding of the illustration. The illustration should not be understood in relation to sophisticated parties drawing up sophisticated contract, like Fried’s counterexamples suggest.[19] There is indeed nothing legally or morally wrong (barring conflicts with public policy issues)with contracts planning for some contingencies of possible breach and building them into the terms.[20] It is a mistake to think that Shiffrin’s argument is directed towards breaching per se being morally objectionable; rather, what Shiffrin argues is that only a small subset of breach is morally objectionable.

The more charitable way to understand Shiffrin’s illustration is that it points out the absurdity of how efficient breach is supposed to be understood when parties making promises fail to specify or foresee breach. This is a subtle point and it is not clear cut, so I should note that this may not be Shiffrin’s actual views. In any case, a stronger argument emerges if we think of the small subset of cases where a party deliberately shirks the moral responsibility of the promise and hides behind the veil of contract law justifications for efficient breach. For example, if I promise to sell you my poodle and instead sell it to somebody else, I have broken my promise to you even if I pay you expectation damages. I could provide you with a justification of my actions to the tune of efficient transactions, the fungibility of poodles, and the egoistic rational maximizer; however, I have still broken a promise. I did not say that, to echo Fried, “I’m thinking I’ll probably sell you the poodle, but I have to see what all my options are.” Maybe if I did, you might accept my contract law justification. But Shiffrin’s illustration is directed towards the small number of scenarios where parties have failed to plan for breach. Shiffrin’s hyperbolic language tries to show that contract law justifications of efficient breach are absurd justifications when operationalized in promissory morality.

It is not difficult to see how employing contract law justifications for breaking promises invokes reactions of moral indignation. As Fried suggests, we might condemn such smarmy characters for their “jerkiness,” but this is not to say that we accept their contract law justification of “breaching for a price,” as if they have a legitimate justification and they are being sore winners. Rather, we do not accept their justification and the source of the condemnation is their inappropriate use of contract law justification where a promissory morality justification is appropriate.

A question arises at this point: Why are we so worried about the subset of cases of breach that are morally problematic? If they are so few and infrequent, does it really matter for the virtuous agent? These are the kinds of questions addressed in the next section. In brief, the small set of problematic cases infect the legitimacy of contract law because it puts unfair barriers on the virtuous moral agent. If the virtuous agent must not break promises, then parts of contract law are practically inaccessible for the virtuous agent. As we will see, Shavell suggests that we might reinterpret the problematic cases in a way that it is not morally objectionable.

Shavell’s reformulation of efficient breach

The previous section showed that Shiffrin’s argument is not (as Fried suggest) merely rhetorical or an issue with formation. Fried helped clarify that most cases of efficient breach are not problematic, yet there are a small number of problematic efficient breach scenarios. Put this way, a plausible way to accommodate the moral agent is by arguing that contract law transforms promissory norms in a way that is morally acceptable.

Perhaps contract law is not entirely divorced from promissory morality, rather it reshapes (as we have already seen in the separatists’ argument) promissory morality and expresses them in a different way. This is the thread that Shavell picks up on. To summarize Shavell, contract law can accommodate the virtuous agent by filling in terms so that they are no longer morally objectionable. The way to go about filling in terms is by looking closely at the counterfactual of what parties would have agreed to if they foresaw the breach. For Shavell, when contractual terms do not explicitly address the breach, the way to interpret the promise is that parties would have permitted the breach if they had considered it. The fact that both parties did not foresee breach and remained silent does not imply that the parties believed breach was immoral.

Shiffrin is not so convinced by Shavell’s approach. Shiffrin questions whether there “is a moral duty to perform only if the parties would have explicitly agreed to perform had they squarely faced the contingency that is the occasion for the breach.”[21] Promissory norms are not mapped onto contracts in the way Shavell describes. There needs to be more explanation as to why absent explicit agreement “we should invoke the apparatus of hypothetical contractarianism.”[22] There are certainly some implied rules in the norms of promise keeping, too. If I miss a promise to meet you because of an emergency, you excuse me. It is possible that this contingency is built into the promise, but it would be odd to include the deliberate breaking of a promise. Silence might not imply that the parties believe breached to be immoral, but using this silence towards an inference that parties permit breach is to take a mile from a given inch. Consider the example of shoplifting policies:

“[A] vendor may adjust her prices given the predicted rate of shoplifting at her store and the expected payout of insurance. As theft rises her prices may rise. However reasonable, that does not mean that she consents to the theft or its possibility. Nor does it mean that consumers who buy the goods at those prices consent to the thievery or to pay on behalf of the thieves. They may understand that everyone must shoulder the burden imposed by thieves and, in effect, pay the thieves’ way, but finding that remedy reasonable does not amount to (and should not amount to) consenting to the activity giving rise to the remedial reaction.”[23]

It is certainly possible to imagine that a vendor is indifferent to shoplifting because there are mechanisms in place to level out the expected economic loss. But this seems to imagine the vendor as cold, calculating, and amoral. The point becomes clearer if we imagine that, say, the payout of insurance netted slightly more than the loss of the theft. Would the vendor encourage theft? Would the non-shoplifting consumer shouldering some of these costs be insouciant towards the vendor encouraging theft to make a profit? Certainly not. Perhaps contracts ought to be responsive to the belief that there is a “special premium on performance.”[24]

As Shavell correctly identifies, much of this discussion turns on individual moral beliefs and what is deemed to be an acceptable practice. However, Shavell makes the unique move of approaching this as an empirical question. Rather than pumping intuitions or engaging in conceptual analysis, Shavell opts for a “limited survey” and appeals to “a recent study by psychologists” to validate his claims about individuals’ moral beliefs on breach.[25] The problem with this move, I think, is that the question about what beliefs are acceptable for parties for counterfactual contract agreement is not apt for the experimental approach. This is not to say that this methodology is completely irrelevant or that his survey is a complete disaster—it is indeed important to assess the norms of the public for justifying coercive law. Rather, the question here is what reasons contract law ought to endorse, and this separate from the question of what reasons individuals in fact endorse.[26] Should contract law prioritize promissory morality over economic efficiency? If so, where does it derive its normative force? Shavell seems to suggest that the normative grounds are the practical reasons held by everyone (e.g. it is in everybody’s interest to reasonably accommodate economic efficiencies), and supports this claim with empirical data to show that people in fact hold these practical reasons. But questions of justification cannot be answered by looking at what individuals already believe.

The issue of conflating the justificatory question with a descriptive one becomes clear if we imagine a dissenter. If a dissenter claims that the counterfactual agreement is not what they agree to and that the breach is still unfair, then it is difficult on Shavell’s view to see what justification can be given to the dissenter. Even if the majority of people believed that breaching is in fact what they would have agreed to if they had foreseen it, it does not lend any support for the dissenter. It seems Shavell would be forced to call this dissenter unreasonable and their irrationally can be coercively overridden. This is problematic because the methodology leads to self-defeating result. The law does not function to impose the will of the majority and trump individual rights as soon as they do not fit with the majority’s beliefs. The question of justifying coercive law must be answered in the abstract.

Let us now take stock of the argument brewing behind the scenes.  

[1] Contract law ought to reasonably accommodate the flourishing of virtuous agents.

[2] There are a (small) number of efficient breach scenarios which promote morally objectionable actions.

[3] Virtuous agents cannot flourish under laws which promote any morally objectionable actions.

Therefore, contract law cannot permit efficient breach.

I take the first premise for granted given the limits of this paper. This paper thus far has focused mostly on the second premise. We learned from Fried that the number of efficient breach scenarios that are morally objectionable is a lot smaller than we might have initially thought. The small number of problematic scenarios cannot be easily excised or transformed in the way Shavell has suggested. At this point, one might question the first premise, especially as it relates to the second premise: in what sense is the permission of a small number of problematic scenarios an unreasonable accommodation?[27] The answer is that I take it that, in morally objectionable efficient breach scenarios, the virtuous agent has a disadvantage to somebody who is willing to act contrary to morality; in effect, the virtuous agent is being punished for acting in accordance with morality.[28] If this disadvantage cannot be justified (which is what I think), then it does not matter if it is a small or large number of scenarios. A similar issue might be raised with the third premise—namely, is it true that the virtuous agent cannot flourish because of a small number of scenarios? This depends on one’s ethical views.[29]

In the last stretch, I will try to sketch the ethical structure needed to support the argument above. My aim is to tease out some of the ethical positions that have been in the background of this paper. I want to suggest that a consequentialist ethics is not suited for this particular argument, but I raise some challenges that other normative ethical views might face.

The ingredients for the morality of promises

In defining a morality of promises, it is useful to look at what kind of normative force of morality is supposed to have in our practical deliberation.  Put differently, we have a plurality of reasons for actions at any given moment (legal reasons, moral reasons, prudential reasons, etc.) and some reasons are weightier than others. For instance, reasons to keep my promise of meeting you at the café might outweigh competing reasons to indulge in a nap at home. In these terms, for Shiffrin, moral reasons seem to have a special overriding status in that it overrides other competing reasons—their “overridingness” quality is what defines the reasons as “moral”. I understand Shiffrin to be taking a view that moral reasons override all other reasons, so a part of what makes moral reasons “moral” is their elevated normative status. In contrast, Shavell might be thought of as more aligned with a consequentialist decision procedure whereby what is “moral” is the result of weighing competing practical reasons; on this view, whatever is the most pressing reason is “moral,” because it best satisfies some particular set of ends.

Some economic theorists have presented accounts of contract law that are amoral. Shiffrin is correct to think that such views of law are impoverished, but it having morality regulate laws can also lead to deficiencies.  Shiffrin may go a bit too far with the idea of a virtuous agent.[30] Contract law does not need to make room for the moral saint; rather, it needs to make room for the morally decent person. Contract law certainly needs to capture dimensions of moral responsibility and blame.[31] As Fried suggests, there might be a more attenuated approach to incorporating morality into contract law which shows deference to other policy concerns.[32]

We therefore need an account of how to understand contract law within an ethical system. Some legal theorists have defended a rights-based account of contracts. They usually start with the idea that everybody deserves respect as free and equal persons simply in virtue of being human. This involves equal respect for autonomy and people can recruit others to help pursue their goals. On the rights-based view, promises are understood as an exchange of rights. Coercively taking a right by breach is unacceptable and they can appeal to enforce the promise through coercive means to reinstate the right. This is certainly very convincing, but to imply some revisionist takes on current doctrines in contract law. 

Another (I think) plausible starting point could take a closer look at the normative structure of intimate relationships and special obligations. The starting point would be the relation instead of the individual (and individual rights). Underscoring the relational aspect of promises can arrive at the reciprocal respect between parties while maintaining the flexibility of negotiating the norms of the relationship. For example, Aristotle’s view of friendship can be a useful model for understanding contracts—specifically, the wellbeing of parties become conjoined and there emerges a resultant mutual flourishing. Friendships, like contracts, generate special obligations that are often idiosyncratic to the parties.

Conclusion

This paper has argued in line with Shiffrin against efficient breach. It is still possible to argue against any one of the premises or challenge the argument’s jurisprudential assumptions. Nothing has been said about the nature of contracts within a polity or the nature of promises within morality. In saying this I do not mean to imply that progress is impossible without first addressing these fundamental questions. Shiffrin provides a strong argument for the role morality plays in the normative underpinnings of contract law. By way of modest suggestion, a fruitful direction for further investigation is a comparison between promissory norms between strangers and promissory norms between intimates. This may shed light on why we take performance to be so special.


[1] S Shiffrin, “The Divergence of Contract and Promise” (2007) 120 Harvard L Rev.

[2] B Fried, “What’s Morality Got To Do With It?” (2009) 120 Harvard L Rev.

[3] S Shavell, “Why Breach of Contract May Not Be Immoral Given the Incompleteness of Contracts” (2009)

[4] S Shiffrin, “Could Breach of Contract Be Immoral?” (2009) 107 Michigan L Rev.

[5] Supra note 1, at 731.

[6] Ibid at 730.

[7] Ibid at 732.

[8] Ibid at 730.

[9] Ibid at 732.

[10] Ibid at 731.

[11] Supra note 4, at 1562.

[12] Ibid at 1565.

[13] Ibid at 1566.

[14] Supra note 1, at 733.

[15] Another interesting point that Fried highlights is the knowledge of the parties and the specifics of what they are agreeing to when they form the contract. Fried gives the example of a carpenter hired and a contract lacking specifications of performance standards and remedies. Does the individual understand that failure of the carpenter to meet her specifications gives her only expectation damages, which are further limited by Hadley rule (i.e. the inability to collect for hard-to-quantify losses)? This is a procedural problem about “when should apparent consent to stated and implied terms be treated as binding?” See supra note 2, at 56.

[16] Supra note 1, at 728-9.

[17] Supra note 2, at 58.

[18] Supra note 2, at 60.

[19] Supra note 2, at 58.

[20] It is unclear what kinds of promissory norms are generated in these kinds of contracts. One explanation might be that promissory norms are quite thin and only require that we do not deviate from our agreements.

[21] Supra note 3, at 1560.

[22] Supra note 3, at 1561.

[23] S Shiffrin, “Must I Mean What You Think I Should Have Said?” (2012) 98:1 Virginia L Rev 175.

[24] Supra note 4, at 1566-7.

[25] Supra note 3, at 1579.

[26] This is a familiar problem made famous by David Hume and is often called the “is-ought” problem.

[27] Shiffrin’s answer is that the virtuous agent cannot consistently hold the belief that a promise can be binding and the belief that breaching the promise can be morally justified on the grounds of economic welfare. It is not spelled out exactly how she comes to the view that these are inconsistent beliefs, but I take it that this is connected to her view of morality. See supra note 1, at 731.

[28] Note that the law does not command agents to contravene morality, but merely permits efficient breach. But the suggestion that the law “promotes” breaching behavior is a subtler move. If breaking promises is understood as contravening morally objectionable, then laws which promote breaking promises also promotes something morally objectionable. The virtuous agent presumably cannot engage in breaching behavior whereas others can and narrows the options when engaging in contractual practices. They are faced with the dilemma of facing a market disadvantage in contracts or engaging in immoral behavior. It seems in either case, their wellbeing is undermined.

[29] The combined contentiousness of the second and third premises admittedly lead to worries about the cogency of the argument as a whole.

[30] Shiffrin argues elsewhere that the traditional doctrine of expectation damages needs to be replaced for specific performance and punitive damages. This also is supposed to flow from what morality requires of us.

[31] As some philosophers suggest, the locus of responsibility is tethered to the idea that one has the power of choice and ability to do otherwise.

[32] And Fried would argue that the current state of contract law already does this, for instance, through its conscionability doctrine.

Sample Draft Policy Paper (NATO Research Group)

The Methodology

The case study “Contemporary War & Aggression Issue: Azerbaijan & Armenia” is a complex topic that deals with wide-ranging issues, meaning that the correct methodology must be used to conduct our research. To this end, our team picked some notable threads of interest: the historical developments of the conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia: a historical study since the formation of the Ottoman Empire; regional geopolitics and the role of international and regional organizations; and the role of political economy in the region.

A recent peace deal between Armenia and Azerbaijan in November 2020 has the potential to bridge the gap and underlying mistrust to a certain extent between both nations. This could be the source of further diplomatic and social developments in the region which could lead to long-lasting stability.[1] There could also potentially be a focus on the Armenian participation in Russia’s Eurasian Economic Union which could play a major role in the economic side of the power equation.[2]

The Historical Context

The tension between Armenia and Azerbaijan began in the early 20th century and has rapidly evolved overtime as globalization and technology have come into play.  To begin, World War One was a calamity of unprecedented proportions for the Caucasus region. At least 16 million people were killed and another 20 million were wounded, the Ottoman, Austro-Hungarian and Russian Empires collapsed, boundaries changed dramatically, and large scale human migrations occurred.

The tensions between Armenia and Turkey (and indirectly Azerbaijan), is not simply one of oppressor and oppressed. Despite the events of World War One, until the Armenian assassination of numerous Turkish ambassadors in the early 1970s, Armenians, Azerbaijani, and Turks shared a personal connection. Individual Turks, Azerbaijani, and Armenians share a common Anatolian and Ottoman heritage and most aspects of its culture, even language. Furthermore, Turkey was also one of the first countries to recognize Armenia as an independent country following its breakage from the Soviet Union. Finally, Armenia and Turkey are not isolated from one another. The land border is the only border that is closed, air travel is possible between both countries, and trade still occurs between the two nations.

Contemporary Challenges

a) Regional Actors and Their Strategic Interest in the Conflict

Unfortunately, despite these connections and similarities, diplomatic ties between the two nations are far from amicable. The greatest source of tension is the regional/territorial dispute that Armenia claims over both Turkey and Azerbaijan. Turkey has made it clear that they would like to normalize its ties but asserts that Armenia needs to acknowledge their desired borders and territorial claims. Armenia asserts that these regions are rightfully theirs due to the strong number of ethnic Armenians that occupy the regions. For example, Nagorno-Karabakh is internationally recognised as Azerbaijani territory, including by Armenia, but is dominated by ethnic Armenians who broke away from Baku, an Azerbaijani city. Both Turkey and Azerbaijan claim historical rights to these regions and say the previous ownership overrules the ethnic majority.

b) The Impact of Political Economy

Both sides also hold reasons why trust with the opposition and talks of diplomacy seem feeble. The current military aid of Turkey towards Armenia weakens trust between the nations’ alleged desire for diplomacy. “Currently, Turkey’s military exports to its ally Azerbaijan have risen six-fold [in 2020], with sales of drones and other military equipment rising to $77 million last month alone before fighting broke out over the Nagorno-Karabakh region, according to exports data” [3]. Considering the strength of Turkey’s military power (11 of 140 out of the countries considered for the annual GFP review), it can be understood why the Armenian government and Armenians feel threatened and pressured unfairly by the larger power’s backing of Azerbaijan.

c) Outcry For Nationalism

Another source of eroding trust recently comes from the diaspora of these countries and the hyper-nationalism that they possess relative to actual citizens of the ethnic groups’ nation). The mentality of holding residuals against the opposition is greatly embedded within the diaspora, which creates negative feelings against one another and makes feelings of amiability harder. This type of nationalism is referred to as “long-distance nationalism”: “a set of identity claims and practices that connect people living in various geographical locations to a specific territory that they see as their ancestral home” [4]. Actions taken by long-distance nationalists on behalf of this reputed ancestral home may include “voting, demonstrating, lobbying, contributing money, creating works of art, fighting, killing, and dying” [5].

Much of the expansion of long distance nationalism can be attributed to the exponential evolution of technology (i.e. social media). A significant degree of scholarly attention is being paid to topics such as how populist politics uses social media to instigate nationalist sentiments [6]. Digital technologies create new opportunities for citizens to participate in the symbolic construction of community and social movements, whether it be state-led patriotism or an oppositional minority movement [7]. In other words, nationalism has become even more pleasurable and engaging in the technological age. No longer is it an elitist enterprise: “it became more accessible for ordinary folk, which makes it an attractive framework for making sense of daily life in an increasingly complex world” [8]. The possibility to engage whenever possible makes nationalism an attractive way to be politically involved and feel a sense of purpose and belonging through engagement in the digital platform. Both the Armenian diaspora and Western world has said that Armenia deserves the territory of Nagorno-Karabakh. Armenia is now hesitant to return them to Azerbaijan, even despite the large Azeribaijani population in the region.

The Role of the Media

Furthermore, Armenia is looked at fondly by the West, and is always seen as the victim in most Western media. The lack of fairness in representation in the media makes it hard for both sides to trust one another, as Azerbaijan is left constantly feeling demonized.

The Role of International and Regional Institutions in Peaceful Settlement of Dispute

Dialogue between the involved nations should replace statements made through a third party, such as declarations made by the United States. This type of intervention is non-neutral and non-constructive and therefore makes it more difficult for both sides to reconcile. Much of this tactic is due to the influence of the strong Armenian diaspora in Western countries. These individuals push their Western governments to support a more Armenian inclined policy, which deters Azerbaijan and Turkey from attempting reconciliation. For example, one of the biggest factors that caused the Armenian diaspora to outcry at a possible signing of accord was the stakes the government were willing to give up simply to find diplomacy, one of those was allowing Turkey to deny the genocide and the other was to increase the Turkish border and take Armenian land.

Consequently, the Armenian national narrative has been widely circulated in a series of aggressive public relations campaigns, creating the impression that there is widespread acceptance and even a consensus on the Armenian view of history. It is misleading to believe that there is a “political consensus” on this issue. In fact, in a limited number of countries, only around 20 out of 200 countries, have parliaments made declarations, mostly of a non-binding nature, supporting the Armenian view of history [9]. Not surprisingly, these are all countries where the Armenian diaspora is very active [10].

On the opposing side, the recent deal reached by the OSCE Minsk Group, a group created to encourage a peaceful, negotiated resolution to the conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia over Nagorno-Karabakh, has reversed the power balance in the conflict in favour of Azerbaijan as well as increasing power in the region to Azerbaijan’s supporters, Turkey and Russia. Under the terms of the agreement, Armenia was forced to withdraw from three areas of Nagorno-Karabakh, along with seven surrounding territories (). From dominating power in the region in the late 20th century, they now maintain only nominal political control of the region’s capital. This loss and pressure from Turkey and Russia as the Kremlin maintanis 2,000 peace keeping troops in a three-mile area of the Lachin corridor that connects Armenia to the region and the goal to create a joint peacekeeping center, only creates a greater feeling of a threat for Armenia.

In summary, the biggest challenges to forming diplomatic relations amongst these nations comes from the lack of trust that has grown from both political and military aggression/interest of third-parties within the conflict, pressure from their respective ethnic diasporas as well as territorial/historical disputes.

The Policy Recommendation

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) should continue to develop deconfliction and confidence-building measures in Armenia and Azerbaijan. It should maintain regular contact with Turkey in areas that immediately threaten security of the Alliance (i.e. arms control, military transparency and maintaining channels of communication) to avoid misunderstandings in the region that could escalate into a major crisis.

The state of Russia in particular could mandate the establishment of diplomatic relations between Armenia and Turkey. However, along with keeping open communications channels with both the warring parties, NATO should incentivize Turkey to develop healthy diplomatic relations with Armenia.[11]

Since the 1990s, NATO and Azerbaijan have worked closely in the Kosovo Force and the International Security Assistance Force in Kosovo and Afghanistan respectively. Along with Turkish involvement, NATO should therefore press Azerbaijan to establish diplomatic relations with Armenia. If Azerbaijan agrees, NATO should incentivize all three parties with a direct European road connection, which would be particularly beneficial to the landlocked country of Armenia.


[1] “Relations with Azerbaijan.” n.d. North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Accessed June 3, 2021. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_49111.htm.

[2] “The Eurasian Economic Union, the Republic of Armenia, the Republic of Belarus, the Republic of Kazakhstan and the Russian Federation.” n.d. Eurasian Economic Union. Accessed June 9, 2021.

[3] Toksabay, Ece. “Turkish Arms Sales to Azerbaijan Surged before Nagorno-Karabakh Fighting.” Reuters, October 14, 2020. https://www.reuters.com/article/armenia-azerbaijan-turkey-arms-int-idUSKBN26Z230.

[4]Schiller, Nina Glick. “Long-Distance Nationalism.” In Encyclopedia of Diasporas: Immigrant and Refugee Cultures Around the World, edited by Melvin Ember, Carol R. Ember, and Ian Skoggard, 570–80. Boston, MA: Springer US, 2005. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-0-387-29904-4_59.

[5] Schiller.

[6]Krämer, Benjamin. “Populist Online Practices: The Function of the Internet in Right-Wing Populism.” Information, Communication & Society 20, no. 9 (September 2, 2017): 1293–1309. https://doi.org/10.1080/1369118X.2017.1328520.

[7]Yusupova, Guzel, and Peter Rutland. “Introduction: Transformation of Nationalism and Diaspora in the Digital Age.” Nations and Nationalism 27, no. 2 (2021): 325–30. https://doi.org/10.1111/nana.12683.

[8] Yusupova and Rutland.

[9] Schiller, “Long-Distance Nationalism.”

[10] Schiller.

[11] Ward, Alex. 2020. “The surprising Armenia-Azerbaijan peace deal over Nagorno-Karabakh, explained.” Vox, November 10, 2020.