This essay is about why the author has devoted her professional career--her life--to defending people most of society would just as soon banish and forget. After nearly thirty years of criminal law practice, her reasons are such a part of her that they are nearly inarticulable. The author is a criminal defender in her soul. She also has been teaching and writing about criminal defense for almost as long as she has been doing it.

This convergence is reached via different routes in each community: for the national security community, counter terrorism provides the sovereignty-limiting logic, while for the human rights and humanitarian law communities, it is the prevention of atrocities that leads to sovereignty-limiting doctrines.

In this essay, the author traces how this convergence has come about in two very different discourse communities, and points out some of the unintended consequences and unresolved problems that result.

Second, the author wants to suggest that the best framework for dealing with this conflict is to analyze religious people's claims as belief liberty interests under the Due Process Clauses of the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, rather than as free exercise claims under the First Amendment. There were important historical reasons for including the First Amendment in our Constitution, with its dual Free Exercise and Establishment Clauses. But the First Amendment should not be understood as the sole source of protection for religious people when the claims such individuals raise also implicate the type of liberty interests that should legitimately be considered under the Due Process Clauses of our Constitution.

The authors' argument in this chapter is that intellectual coherence and ethical integrity demand that we acknowledge that civil rights laws can burden an individual's belief liberty interest when the conduct demanded by these laws burdens an individual's core beliefs, whether such beliefs are religiously or secularly based. Acknowledging that these liberty interests exist and can be burdened by civil rights laws does not necessarily mean that such laws will be invalidated or that exemptions from the law will always be granted to individuals holding such beliefs. Rather, as she hopes to demonstrate below, Justice Souter's concurrence in Washington v. Glucksberg offers us a useful approach for engaging in an appropriate substantive due process analysis that provides us with a means of seriously considering the liberty interest at stake without necessarily invalidating the law burdening that interest.

Finally, the author offers her own assessment of how these conflicts might be resolved in our democratic system. She has no illusions that either LGBT rights advocates or religious freedom advocates will decide that she has offered the correct resolution. The authors primary goal in this chapter is simply to argue that this conflict needs to be acknowledged in a respectful manner by both sides, and then addressed through the legislative processes of our democratic system. Whether the authors particular resolution is ultimately accepted feels less important to her than helping to foster a fruitful conversation about possible resolutions.

One key problem of performance from copyright’s perspective is how to identify the creative elements that make a work of performance original and protectable, as distinguished from elements that make it a work (a fixed artifact). A major variant of this question involves authorship: who is sufficiently responsible for a work of performance to be deemed its author, and thus its default owner? In a world where works require dozens and even hundreds of people to complete them, this question will often be difficult to answer while both respecting creativity and recognizing economic imperatives. Another set of questions involves whether there are ways to recognize performers’ creative contributions without contributing to copyright’s bloat, and how to assess claims of infringement in a performance context when the alleged copying isn’t exact. This article addresses these puzzles of performance, arguing that manageability rather than creativity is generally the basis for the rights allocations and distinctions copyright law makes. The recent controversy over the film Innocence of Muslims, along with other instances in which subjects of audiovisual works claimed copyright in those works, demonstrate the limited role played by creativity in copyright law.

For 2012, forty-six schools now use the HTML5 doctype, which is up from thirteen in 2011 and just one in 2010. Eighteen schools achieve perfect scores in an adjusted web accessibility evaluation, which is a slight increase over previous years. One of the new elements awards points for use of Responsive Web Design practices, which is a page layout method that shifts the order and number of elements on a page, based on the screen size displaying the content. Our survey discovered fourteen home pages using responsive web design.

As has been the case since this annual study launched in 2009, there is still no objective way to account for good taste. For interpreting these results, please decide for yourself whether any home page is greater or less than the sum of its evaluated elements.

Striking is this scholarly skepticism when compared to the disturbing fate of those who spawned this conference: they are vulnerable, poor, friendless; they have never seen a lawyer and they have talked to a judge speaking from a remote televised location. They sit in jail for ten or twenty or thirty days, losing their jobs and their families, only to have the charges ultimately dismissed. Douglas Colbert's cases raise important questions about a failed legal revolution. For when the charges have been dismissed, what will Colbert's defendants understand about "criminal procedure"? The majesty of Gideon? The wisdom of the Warren Court? No doubt, the jailed and abandoned defendant would agree with critics of criminal procedure. How else could he see the "process" except as his punishment?

In this paper, the author wonders whether it is possible to flip that equation, to think of the relational as central, rather than peripheral, to law's most ambitious public projects. Her hypothesis is two-fold: first, that the relational question is known by, and important to, feminism; and, second, that the relational is important beyond feminism, indeed that it is important to our ideas of constitution and law itself. If this is right, then focusing on relationships is far from the marginal project that it is often assumed to be. Indeed, it may allow feminism to predict new ways of seeing law. The author offers examples from her own legal experience--in criminal law and constitutional law--that shows what she calls (for lack of a better term) the "relational critique." What she mean by this is two things: (1) that many of the concepts that we see in law, that seem mundane, natural or given, stand as proxies for normative relations; (2) that by disaggregating the natural object--by seeing relations in naturalized descriptions--we can see the law creating/ generating/constituting. Put another way, this paper is about thinking relationally—the author wonders whether it is possible or wise to substitute the "relational" question for the "sameness" question or the "difference" question--not only in cases of concern to feminists but cases elsewhere in the law.

The vocabulary people use to discuss the problem is itself a concern. The word counterfeit is often used innocuously to describe any drug that is not what it seems, but some NGOs and emerging manufacturing nations object to this term. These groups see hostility to generic pharmaceuticals in a discussion of counterfeit medicines. These groups see hostility to generic pharmaceuticals in a discussion of counterfeit medicines. Precisely speaking, a counterfeit drug infringes on a registered trademark, and trademark infringement in not necessarily a problem of public health consequence. Instead of talking broadly about counterfeit drugs, the WHO and other stakeholders should consider two main categories of drug quality problems. Falsified medicines misrepresent the product’s identity or source or both. Substandard drugs fail to meet the national specifications given in an accepted pharmacopeia or the manufacturer’s dossier. In practice, there is often considerable overlap between categories.

There is considerable uncertainty about the size of the falsified and substandard drug market. Improved pharmacovigilance, especially in developing countries, give a better picture of the scope of the problem. In the United States, tighter regulatory controls on the wholesale market and a mandatory drug tracking system would improve drug safety. In developing countries, development finance organizations should invest in small- and medium-sized pharmaceutical manufacturers, and governments should use tools such as franchising, accreditation, low-interest loans, and task shifting to encourage private sector investment in drug retail. Finally, the WHO should work with stakeholders such as the UNODC and the WCO to develop an international code of practice on falsified and substandard drugs.

Interestingly, multinational financial institutions’ and emerging countries’ concerns with the emerging international regime are largely aligned. As a result, they may find that they are improbable allies in the battle over taxing offshore accounts. With the G-20 as an agenda-setter and international financial law as the model, a governance structure for an automatic information exchange regime that could be useful to emerging countries’ tax administrations and lower multinational financial institutions’ compliance costs could materialize. The paper explores the necessary architecture, as well as steps emerging countries may take to help that architecture develop.

Part II examines the frustrations Edmund Randolph, the first Attorney General, experienced in the office, focusing particularly on his efforts to persuade the courts to enforce Congress's first pension act for disabled veterans of the Revolutionary War. In Hayburn’s Case, a 1792 case well known for its implications for the role of the federal judiciary, Randolph, on behalf of the United States, petitioned the Supreme Court for a writ of mandamus ordering a lower court to administer the Invalid Pensions Act of 1792. But the Court refused to allow the Attorney General to make his motion. Because the Court did not issue a written opinion in the case, it has been difficult to probe its reasoning. However, the unpublished personal notes of Justice Iredell, coupled with contemporaneous newspaper accounts, letters, and other Supreme Court decisions, suggest that the Court's principal concern was whether the President and the Congress had sufficiently authorized the Attorney General to make such a motion.

These efforts by Randolph to secure enforcement of the pension law, offering the Supreme Court its first opportunity to consider the respective roles of the President and Congress in controlling the Attorney General, provide us with an excellent, hitherto unexplored, opportunity to examine the early role of the Attorney General.16 Studying this experience reveals that many of the current tensions in our tripartite system of government were evident at its inception. From the beginning, there were questions about whom the Attorney General represented, who should and would control the incumbent Attorney General, and what it means to represent the "interests of the United States." In addition, one sees the beginnings of the notably vibrant and enduring debate between those who see the federal courts merely as "resolvers of private disputes" and those who believe they serve a special function as interpreters and protectors of the Constitution.

Finally, part III explores the extent to which these early experiences can contribute to modern debates. As the Article indicates, some of the precise uncertainties and frustrations confronting early Attorneys General already have been resolved. However, many fundamental questions remain: Can Congress order an Attorney General to act without regard to the views of the President? Can Congress place law enforcement responsibilities in the hands of individuals outside presidential control? Can the Attorney General act without clear congressional authorization? The early history cannot answer these questions. Indeed, those who find clear answers in this history are probably distorting the history. But the approach taken by the framers and early interpreters of the Constitution can and should inform our debate.