TY - JOUR
AU - Landauer, Carl
AB - Abstract This article is the second of a two-part analysis of the work of the international legal historian, CH Alexandrowicz. Part II analyses Alexandrowicz’s narrative of the decline of international law represented by 19th-century positivism and the scramble for African territory, where legal principles such as the protectorate became mere tools for acquisition, and treaties bereft of obligation. It traces his sympathy for the post-independence ‘new states’, his hope for the renewal of international law, the Romantic narrative imbuing his secular, modernist eschatology, and his continuing engagement with Indian Constitutional development. In Part I of this article, ‘Madras studies’,1 I placed CH Alexandrowicz’s work in the context of his biography: the Polish émigré who attended a prominent Gymnasium in Vienna, trained in canon law in Cracow, took up research in France, worked for the Bank of Poland, became part of the Polish government in exile, led the European Central Inland Transport Organization, was called to the bar of Lincoln’s Inn, took up the new chair of India’s first program of international and constitutional law at the University of Madras, after roughly a decade in Madras, taught in Sydney, and spent his final years in England. His biography suggests geographical movement and liminality, the sure-footed insider of the metropole with the experience of the outsider, who sought to shed light on the role of India and the ‘Further India’ of Southeast Asia in the development of the Law of Nations writ large. Alexandrowicz established a narrative of the European encounter with the East upon terms of sovereign equality with Europeans entering a sphere in which sovereign polities were fully established along the lines of Kautilya’s Arthasastra, traditionally dated to the fourth century BCE,2 where capitulations and vassalage were already in place. Alexandrowicz made a case for the influence of the Law of Nations of the East on that of Europe, for which he has often been harshly criticised as well as defended (if only in part). But perhaps more important was his depiction of the natural law core of the classic writers of the Law of Nations from Vitoria through Grotius to Vattel. He described splits among them, such as the varying role of religion in their writing as well as Grotius’s admixture of positivism and naturalism, but overall their natural law position stood for the equal treatment of sovereign states regardless of race or creed. It was that favoured past that Alexandrowicz described before its declension into the throes of positivism, which he associated with a denial of the equal status of non-European states accompanied by a cynical abuse by Europeans of various international legal protocols for the purpose of a sheer land grab. In this Part, I will focus on Alexandrowicz’s narrative of declension, which is at the heart of his book, The European-African Confrontation.3 Alexandrowicz focuses on the rise of positivism and its overturning of the core principles of the naturalists. He tells of the 19th-century expansion of positivism, especially its pivotal role in the Berlin Conference and the scramble for titles in Africa. This Part will engage his criticism of positivism along with its manipulative use of carefully negotiated treaties as well as the misuse of the tradition of ‘protectorates’, in both cases only to abandon legal obligations to facilitate the annexation of African lands as colonies. It was in this context that Alexandrowicz attacked the ICJ’s finding in the South West Africa cases (1966)4 that the ‘sacred trust of civilisation’ was not legally binding but provided only moral direction. The 1966 Apartheid-related cases, which created shockwaves in the South as well as for many in the North, occurred against the backdrop of the rising profile of newly independent states, Bandung, and the Non-Aligned Movement. Although, as David Armitage and Jennifer Pitts note in the introduction to their collection of Alexandrowicz essays, whilst Alexandrowicz did not make references to Bandung and generally did not refer to the ‘Third World’, he was deeply committed to the promise of renewal and the growing prominence of the newly independent states.5 He may not have lauded the 1955 Bandung Conference, despite his closeness to Nehru, one of its prime movers, but he argued along with others in favour of understanding the resolutions of the UN General Assembly—adopted by an emerging majority of Third World states—as creating binding law. Additionally, Alexandrowicz showed his sympathy for the claims of the New International Economic Order along with the prominent focus on economic development adopted by the newly independent states. And here it is important to see Alexandrowicz also as a scholar of Indian constitutional law and connect his understanding of India and its Constitution to his recognition of the broader international promise of renewal. The long nineteenth century and the demise of natural law In describing Alexandrowicz’s sense of the demise of the natural law classicism, Armitage and Pitts assert: ‘For Alexandrowicz, 1815 and not 1648 was the pivot around which world history turned, for it was from the Congress of Vienna and its aftermath that he dated the emergence of the arrogantly positivist vision of legal order Europe imposed on the rest of the world over the course of the nineteenth century’.6 And, indeed, they cite Alexandrowicz’s article on ‘Mogul Sovereignty and the Law of Nations’, where he turned to an observation by a member of the Indian Civil Service in the 1890s: In his work on the Indian Protectorates, C.L. Tupper made the following comment on the simultaneous disappearance of the Mogul Empire and the Holy Roman Empire from the international scene: ‘It is perhaps interesting but it is a mere accidental coincidence that the pacification of India … followed closely upon the pacification of Europe at the Congress of Vienna in 1815’.7 Here Alexandrowicz rhetorically voiced the query: ‘We may ask ourselves whether the coincidence was really accidental’, to which he answered: The sequence of events showed remarkably similar developments in the suzerain-vassal relations within both Empires. Had it also proved possible to achieve a balance of power between the emancipated rulers of India (for instance under Mahratta leadership) India could have witnessed the establishment of its own Concert of Powers and its own Public Law in the same way as Europe.8 This, of course, is not how things turned out. Instead, there was a ‘break-down of independent inter-State relations in Asia which, until the decline of the naturalist conception of a universal law of nations, had been part and parcel of a world-wide international structure’.9 In his Introduction to the History of the Law of Nations in the East Indies, Alexandrowicz referred to the Congress of Vienna, arguing that the idea of European states as the ‘founder group of the family of nations’ may have ‘reflected the reality of the political scene and the climate of opinion prevailing in Europe after the Congress of Vienna in 1815’.10 Nevertheless, the year 1815 was not Alexandrowicz’s version of Virginia Woolf’s ‘On or about December 1910 human character changed’, as Armitage and Pitts seem to imply. Indeed, his 19th century witnessed a cascade of changes in international law and international relations in which both politics and theory were enmeshed. The ‘climate of opinion’ he identified as prevailing after the Congress of Vienna followed on from ‘positivist conceptions which were only born at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries’.11 In the same book, Alexandrowicz wrote that some powers, such as Burma and Persia, ‘survived the breakdown of the independent Asian State system at the beginning of the nineteenth century’, but although law had played a part in ‘retard[ing] the process of elimination of East Indian Rulers from the universal family of nations’, he was convinced that the ‘abandonment of the natural law concept of universality under the impact of the positivist school of thought (at the beginning of the nineteenth century) deprived non-European State entities of an important doctrinal support’.12 Still, Alexandrowicz thought that the exact interplay of factors was complicated: It would be difficult to state with precision to what extent the new European-centered school of thought came in the wake of events and to what extent it was instrumental in shaping them. But it would also be difficult to ignore the obvious interconnection between the change of legal doctrine and the course of history leading to nineteenth-century colonialism.13 Alexandrowicz recognized a number of transitional figures in the turn to positivism, notably Martens, Ompteda, and Justi. About GF de Martens, Alexandrowicz observed that he ‘appears as the ultimate systematizer of the law at the end of the eighteenth century, combining the positivist with the naturalist outlook’.14 In an article on Martens, Alexandrowicz identified DHL von Ompteda as being even more persistent than his contemporary, Martens, in pressing a universalist case within European positive law: The success of this attempt, if it had prevailed over the restricted positive European law of nations, could have been gratifying in its consequences, for it would have meant the existence of a measure of common European-Asian legal ideology which would have helped to minimise the negative effects of European egocentrism.15 Alexandrowicz tells us that Ompteda makes reference to JHG von Justi but ironically ‘misses among his works the most important as far as the universality of the law of nations is concerned, i.e. his book on Asian government’, where Justi attacks the European East India companies’ ‘policy of power economics and of supporting their trade with armed forces as unlawful in the law of nations’.16 Considering the highly schematic character of Alexandrowicz’s historical periodization of the transition from natural law to positivism, there remains in his account an acknowledgment of growth and evolution. Nevertheless, when Alexandrowicz came to his critique of the transformation of state recognition, he placed the move from a declaratory to a constitutive process—the latter requiring the recognition of other states rather than being triggered by the state’s factual existence—primarily on the doorstep of Henry Wheaton. For Armitage and Pitts, Alexandrowicz’s ‘reconstruction of the emergence of a theory of recognition and its transformation from an implicitly declaratory theory to an explicitly constitutive one, from the early positivists of the eighteenth century through the invention of a constitutive theory of recognition by Henry Wheaton in the 1840s, is a tour de force of historical legal analysis’.17 Indeed, Alexandrowicz, in a 1958 article for the British Year Book of International Law, worked his way through Wheaton’s predecessors. ‘The purpose of this paper’, he stated, ‘is to draw the attention of historians of international law to these early attempts, and particularly to the direct influence of Justi and Steck on Martens and Klueber, and through them on Henry Wheaton and some of the early nineteenth-century writers’.18 Alexandrowicz argued: ‘[b]efore proceeding to a discussion of Wheaton’s views on which Klueber exercised a direct influence, one more writer deserves attention, i.e. Friedrich Saalfeld.’19 Interestingly, in dealing with state practice, with a special focus on the revolution in Greece, Saalfeld’s arguments ‘reflect the revival of the conception of legitimism as propounded by the “Holy Alliance” school of thought after the Napoleonic wars’, which, in Alexandrowicz’s eyes, was ‘constitutivism with a vengeance, a solution totally different from that proposed by the early positivist writers for the adjustment of political changes’.20 Saalfeld aside, it is clear that Alexandrowicz’s survey generally followed an evolutionary path to Wheaton’s mature version of constitutivism: ‘Wheaton gives full expression to this theory in his third edition of Elements of International Law published in Leipzig where he writes that while de facto independence of a State is sufficient to establish internal sovereignty, its external sovereignty “may require recognition of other States in order to render it perfect and complete”’.21 Alexandrowicz’s discussion of the development of the constitutive theory of recognition was historically framed in the British Year Book of International Law article, and generally Wheaton stood out as the principal culprit. In a 1963 piece, for example, Alexandrowicz explained that ‘[n]o constitutive theory of recognition ever made its appearance in any of the classics of the law of nations up to the end of the 18th century. It did not exist in the works of the Spanish writers nor did Bodin, Gentili, Grotius (and the Grotians) or even Moser and Martens ever conceive such a theory’.22 He then added that ‘Henry Wheaton was, among the prominent writers of this period, one of the first to split sovereignty into internal and external sovereignty, and he maintained that a State may acquire by its de facto independent existence internal sovereignty but that its external sovereignty would be dependent on the recognition of the powers constituting the family of nations’.23 It is clear that Alexandrowicz chose his reference to ‘powers’ carefully—the dominant nation states had pushed extra-European polities beyond the scope of sovereign identity within the club of international law. Berlin and the perversion of treaties and protectorates If Alexandrowicz’s very long 19th century of positivist ascendancy begins with late eighteenth and early 19th-century theorists, whose propositions were embodied in the Treaty of Vienna, and the adoption of the constitutive theory of recognition, best represented by the third edition of Henry Wheaton’s Elements of International Law in 1848, the next—and particularly crucial—stage in the progression of positivist international law was launched by the Conference of Berlin and was embodied by the ensuing scramble for African territories. Alexandrowicz’s turn to the European confrontation with Africa is represented most broadly by his book, The European-African Confrontation. In his various recitations of the narrative of the Berlin Conference there and elsewhere, Alexandrowicz focused on the role of the US delegate, John Kasson, who ‘made a declaration which he asked to be included in the Protocol of the Final Act of the Conference’.24 There, Kasson framed the ability of African leaders to dispose freely of their territory as representing a ‘Modern international law’, and—despite the US’ never having ratified the General Act of the Berlin Conference—the result was that the ‘European powers’ were ‘compelled by the force of circumstances to carry out the partition of Africa in two stages: (1) the stage of bilateral treaties transferring territorial and other rights and (2) the stage of converting these bilateral arrangements into instruments of annexation of territory’.25 Alexandrowicz, as I have mentioned, saw this two-step process as a thinly veiled fiction. He argued that a ‘study of the relevant documents reflecting the “scramble” for titles to African territory will show to what extent the normal institutions of the law of nations as originally applied to European-African relations degenerated into instruments of colonial penetration in the second half of the nineteenth century, particularly after the Berlin Conference of 1884-1885 which led to a multilaterally conceived plan of partition of the whole continent’.26 It was in this context that Alexandrowicz explained the lengths to which the scramble for titles involved a significant set of legal formalities. In examining German treaties in Africa, he followed Heinrich Loth’s study of treaty making to conclude that ‘nearly everywhere treaties were signed in the presence of witnesses and translators’.27 Indeed, in a footnote, Alexandrowicz tells us that ‘[t]reaties with Islamic Rulers were often in two texts (Arabic and European). The treaty with Uganda was in Kiganda and French’.28 To this point, Alexandrowicz quoted the famous British colonial administrator, Frederick Lugard, explaining that in Uganda the King and his subordinate chiefs considered the treaty only binding when put in writing and, in Lugard’s words, ‘[e]very clause is discussed in all its bearings, sometimes for days; words are altered, and the foresight and discrimination which the natives show in forecasting the bearing in the future of every stipulation is as keen as would be that of Europeans; then the document is translated into their language (Kinganda) and read in silence and with intense attention before the assembled house’.29 Putting aside the earnestness reflected in Lugard’s record, Alexandrowicz explained that, while ‘[t]he major Rulers and Chiefs negotiated actively and bargained, other Chiefs were compelled to follow the rapid progress of events without much bargaining’.30 Indeed, ‘[o]nce the “scramble” started, it gathered momentum to such an extent that a treaty war on the East Indian pattern,’ which had focused on discriminatory clauses against a European competitor, ‘was not feasible’. There was no ambiguity: ‘[t]he point was to obtain titles to territory as quickly as possible without engaging in the strategy of manipulating particular treaty stipulations as media of competition’.31 Alexandrowicz explained broadly that ‘[t]he major part of treaties concluded by European Powers in Africa in the second half of the nineteenth century are treaties establishing protectorates’.32 For him, the idea of a ‘protectorate’ was hardly a new concept within the law of nations, interlaced as it was with suzerain-vassal relationships. Thus, for example, he explained in the context of the Dutch East India Company, ‘[t]he mutual relations between the Company and the Indonesian rulers took the shape of protectorates or suzerain-vassal relationships and they were embodied in a number of treaties such as those concluded with the rulers of the Molucquas, Java and Macassar.’33 In his book on the European expansion in Africa, Alexandrowicz pairs protectorates with capitulations, noting that the two ‘institutions were normal phenomena within the framework of traditional international law and they could have played a constructive role for the purpose of entry of a new continent into the Family of Nations.’34 Ultimately, Alexandrowicz was clear that the protectorate lost its traditional role, and was degraded into being deployed solely as a device for European takeover. ‘According to international law’, he wrote, ‘sovereignty in a protectorate is divided between the protector and the protected state in such a way that the protector exercises external sovereignty for the protected state, leaving to the latter a fair measure of internal sovereignty.’35 This was, he asserted, ‘not the case in Africa where the protectorate became a camouflage of the imminent annexation of the protected territory by the protector’ only to hedge that the ‘evidence does not support entirely the above proposition’.36 But after his sampling of treaties of protection ‘of the classic type’, he was able to state that the ‘colonial powers converted in the course of time the protectorates obtained by treaties into colonies’.37 He argued that ‘[n]one of the treaties of protection authorized the European contracting party to absorb the protected state.’38 Instead, the ‘carte blanche arrangement had at most political significance; it was legally meaningless vis-à-vis African rulers’.39 (Armitage and Pitts too quote Alexandrowicz as characterising the colonial protectorate as ‘at best a political device’.40) For Alexandrowicz, the colonial protectorate not only strayed from the frame of legality to become a primarily political instrument, but it was also an instrument of unfettered domination. Alexandrowicz’s understanding of the long history of the protectorate is reflected in the recent collection of essays in Protection and Empire: A Global History.41 He would have appreciated the book’s chronological and geographical reach and its understanding about how protection could be used—as in the case of the European powers in Africa—as a tool in the hands of empire. Nevertheless, for Alexandrowicz, protection may have proved a little less fluid than suggested by that book’s editors, who emphasise the historically plastic nature of the protectorate. For Alexandrowicz, it could provide a stable framework in which parties understood their relative legal positions. That is to say, historically it held real legal meaning and corresponding obligations, and it was the breach of that real legal meaning that he found in its cynical use by the various European powers in Africa in the late 19th century. The ‘Sacred Trust of Civilisation’ as law In his discussion of protectorates, Alexandrowicz focused on the related ‘principle of the sacred trust of civilisation’ as a ‘concept which appeared in international law in the 19th century at the time of the European-African confrontation’.42 Alexandrowicz raises this concept in the final chapter of The European-African Confrontation and in a paired article for the American Journal of International Law in 1971, entitled ‘The Juridical Expression of the Sacred Trust of Civilization’.43 Those pieces both addressed the flashpoint of the ICJ’s 1966 procedural decision in the South West Africa cases: that Ethiopia and Liberia did not have standing in respect of their challenge to South Africa’s extension of Apartheid to its Mandate of Namibia. Alexandrowicz’s engagement with the case was noted by Myres McDougal, Harold Lasswell, and Lung-chu Chen in their massive set of essays, Human Rights and World Public Order, where they observed that ‘[o]utraged delegations within the United Nations were quick and decisive in their response.’44 Tellingly, they offered in a footnote that ‘[r]eactions on the part of scholars were no less emphatic’ and there cited responses by about a dozen authors, including Richard Falk (who was part of the team representing both Ethiopia and Liberia in the cases), Wolfgang Friedmann, Rosalyn Higgins, Michael Reisman, Julius Stone, and JHW Verzjil, which is to say a list that largely included all the usual suspects from the progressive metropole. And at the top of the alphabetical list of articles by author is Alexandrowicz’s American Journal of International Law article.45 But whereas Alexandrowicz’s article was essentially understood as part of the scholarly—here primarily the Western anglophone scholarly—reaction to the ICJ decision, neither the final chapter of The European-African Confrontation nor Alexandrowicz’s 1971 article included the South West Africa cases in their titles. Rather, both cited ‘the sacred trust of civilisation’. Indeed, Alexandrowicz spent little of either his chapter or his article on the case itself, aiming rather, as he explained in the final paragraph of his article, to be identifying ‘the fact that the majority judges failed to explore the historical background of the sacred trust of civilization, which might have tipped the precarious balance of the votes in a different direction’.46 Or, as he states more assertively in his book chapter, ‘the statement of the Court that “the principle of the sacred trust has as its sole juridical expression the Mandate System” is made in total disregard of the whole history of European-African relations’.47 The chapter and article provide guided tours through the legal history of the ‘sacred trust of civilisation’ in the European-African confrontation. If we understand that what was at stake in the South West Africa cases was the question whether the ‘sacred trust of civilisation’ had legal bite, rather than being merely a moral and hence a non-juridical standard, it was important also that Alexandrowicz’s history display the true legal undergirding of the ‘sacred trust’. Alexandrowicz explained that the ‘sacred trust’ emerged out of the 19th-century treaties of protection. ‘Suffice it to say,’ he asserted, that among treaty forms, ‘the treaty of protection was one of the leading instruments for introducing the African communities into the orbit of the law of nations’48 and ‘[t]he principle of the sacred trust of civilization was implied in them’.49 Alexandrowicz invoked, in the process, an ‘enlightened opinion’ of the time that ‘did not subscribe to the African scramble in its crude form but envisaged the return of the African Continent to the universal Family of Nations in which the rule of law would prevail between nations irrespective of race, creed or colour, as upheld by the classic law of nations prior to the 19th century’.50 Of course, there was a coarser political reality: ‘[w]hen the real Protectorates set up by the Europeans in Africa degenerated into “colonial” Protectorates ie springboards to annexation, they reflected the existence of a sort of indirect rule’.51 Nevertheless, Alexandrowicz primarily attempted to trace the legal development of the ‘sacred trust’ and situated that idea at the heart of the Berlin Conference: ‘[t]he principle of the sacred trust of civilisation had been in the minds of the powers assembled at the Berlin Conference in 1884-5’.52 Despite the US absence from the various treaties preceding the convocation of the Berlin Conference, Alexandrowicz selected John Kasson as his key protagonist—particularly in Alexandrowicz’s publication in the leading journal for US international lawyers—in pressing the case for the sacred trust. Ultimately, Alexandrowicz explained that the US did not ratify the Final Act of the Berlin Conference in part because ‘the African protectorate started degenerating into an instrument of annexation of territory, irrespective of the legitimate rights of the contracting Rulers or Chiefs’.53 Alexandrowicz may not have recognised the irony of the US representative’s advocacy of the rights of contracting Rulers or Chiefs against the unfathomably ugly record of the US treatment of Native Americans. Alexandrowicz was after another story and wanted to make clear that the Berlin Conference, following Kasson’s lead, established a legal obligation on signatories. As Alexandrowicz asserted, the ‘multilateral statement on “Guardianship” made within the framework of the transactions of the Conference must be considered as declaratory of the consensus of opinion of all civilised States’.54 The Conference articulated ‘a new legal principle, that of the sacred trust of civilisation’.55 For the purposes of examining the ICJ ruling, Alexandrowicz identified the adoption of the principle by the Treaty of Brussels to which both Ethiopia and Liberia acceded: ‘[t]hus they appear here as contracting parties and active participants in the development and application of the Official Guardianship principle as proclaimed by the Berlin Conference’.56 The Court simply ignored the history that Alexandrowicz traced: ‘[h]istory proved useful in deciding the Indo-Portuguese dispute in 1960. It could also have had its uses in the case of South-West Africa’.57 There is, as I have indicated, a certain tension between Alexandrowicz’s emphasis upon the legality of European-African relations and his narrative of decline into unvarnished acquisition. ‘The quest for titles to African territory’, Alexandrowicz maintained in his conclusion to The European-African Confrontation, ‘is in a way the swansong of legality in European-African relations’.58 Alexandrowicz’s discussion of the development of the ‘sacred trust’, however, sets up yet another tension. In that discussion, Alexandrowicz did not focus his criticism on the idea of ‘civilisation’ itself. Indeed, he even stated that ‘the task of the transferee’ in the treaties of protection was ‘to assist African communities in achieving a higher level of civilization before they re-entered the family of nations as equal sovereign entities’.59 It was in his reference to the possibility of re-entering the family of nations, that Alexandrowicz made clear that he did not envisage Europeans fashioning civilised nations ex nihilo but rather aiding a form of renascence. In fact, at the end of The European-African Confrontation, he envisioned an alternate path to the one taken in the 19th century by offering that Africa ‘could have entered the Family of Nations with due respect to its own traditions, civilisation and political organisation’ but, instead it had to go ‘through a period of relentless transformation which now ended in reversion to sovereignty and the emergence of the present day democratic States of Africa’.60 Despite his discussion of the promotion of higher levels of civilisation, we should recognise that foundational to Alexandrowicz’s broader project was a severe criticism of what he deemed a civilisational bias. In describing the ‘partition of Africa’, for example, he wrote that, in the European-African confrontation, the ‘question arose as to what were the standards of measuring different levels of civilization’ and that the ‘European Powers in the nineteenth century maintained that they had the right to answer this question unilaterally and they adopted the institution of capitulations and standards of treatment of foreigners as the international legal test of evaluating the comparative value of civilizations’.61 He identified this as a ‘Euro-centric outlook’ and then cited, by way of example, Oppenheim’s recitation of the Christian countries of Europe as being ‘the original members of the Family of Nations’.62 Alexandrowicz contended that the ‘first and most important gap in this theory of the development of the Family and Law of Nations is shown by the fact that its proponents never asked what the pre-nineteenth-century Family of Nations thought about itself, particularly about the problem of the membership of the Family of Nations’.63 That, of course, was classic Alexandrowicz. In his strong advocacy of the role of the ‘sacred trust of civilisation’, he was able to point to the cynical political turn of ‘colonial’ protectorates, the role of power politics in overcoming legal rectitude, but he seems not to gloss—at least there—the very irony of appearing to support, in the same moment, the promotion of something called ‘civilisation’. ‘New States’ take the stage Alexandrowicz had thus developed a strong criticism of an international law that had, for him, become Eurocentric in frame and a prop for colonial abuse. Alongside other critics of Eurocentric international law, and as argued in Part I, in his depicting the very adoption of ‘international law’ over the ‘law of nations’, Alexandrowicz entered the discussion in the 1960s of the position of the ‘new states’ in the international legal sphere. He was particularly keen to draw attention to states that had been part of the pre-19th-century international environment. Thus, he gravitated to the position of the representative of Ceylon who, in a UN 6th Committee discussion on the succession of states to treaties in 1968, asserted that Ceylon could hardly be identified as a new state but should rather be viewed as an ‘“original” State’.64 So Alexandrowicz took up the issue in an article for Chatham House’s International Affairs, which had published essays by Julius Nyerere and Che Guevara in the 1960s. Alexandrowicz narrated the slow inclusion of non-European states in the ‘Family of Nations’, starting with the Ottoman Empire in 1856,65 although when it was included ‘according to the positivist view, the status of the Ottomans in the Family of Nations remained ambiguous because of the inferiority of its civilisation’.66 After the Ottomans, he told us, ‘some other Asian States were said to be admitted to the Family of Nations, such as Siam, Persia or China, but’, repeating the formulation for the Ottomans, ‘their status was still ambiguous because of the considerations of civilisation’.67 In essence, not only were non-European states only slowly brought into the Family of Nations, ignoring their past international presence, but they were also given second-class status based on perceived civilisational inferiority. As Alexandrowicz explained, there were ‘[o]ther non-European Powers, which had earlier disappeared from the political map of the world [and] were considered as never having legally existed. In this category, for instance, would belong the Mogul Empire and the Maratha State in India, the Kingdoms of Ceylon and Burma and other entities’.68 In one of his rare references to another scholar, Alexandrowicz cited the Dutch historian JC Van Leur, who criticised, in Alexandrowicz’s words, the positivist writers for ‘[t]heir tendency to project the present into the past’, while Van Leur summoned Asian history to look at the pre-19th-century array of states in Asia.69 Here Alexandrowicz makes his familiar point that Asian state practice ‘influenced the growth of our Law of Nations’.70 But he took an unusual turn. Citing Polish cases after the return of sovereignty following the Versailles Treaty, he pointed to the Polish Supreme Court’s use of the Roman legal principle of jus postliminii. Here, the court adapted the treatment of a Roman citizen returning to Rome to retain his former rights in order to assert that the Polish ‘fight for independence had continued’—essentially, ‘Russia never became the sovereign in Poland’.71 He then noted that the Court had ‘failed to rely in these cases on the essential texts of the classic writers which could have supported its decisions from the point of view of international law’, and went on to cite Grotius, Pufendorf, and GF de Martens on the ‘institution of postliminium’.72 Alexandrowicz’s argument, in the context of the ‘new states’, seemed a little strained and, finally, not broadly applicable. He was, indeed, quite cognizant that ‘[t]he African State entities which emerged after the Second World War from [the 19th-century] chaotic political and economic set-up hardly have a claim to identity with the vast number of States and Chieftainships which had disappeared in the melting pot of colonial absorption’.73 As a result ‘[m]ost of the African State entities are new States in the present-day meaning of the word, and reversion to sovereignty has no application’.74 The jus postliminium argument only went so far. Nevertheless, Alexandrowicz’s invocation of the ‘original state’ argument, even if it could be used only narrowly, was marshalled largely to undercut the vestige of the 19th century: a Christian and exclusively European international club. Elsewhere, he broadened his lens and addressed the position of the new states generally in the international community, focusing on whether they were bound by all the rules of the framework of international law held by the old club. ‘The orthodox view’, he explained, ‘that New States are faced with the fait accompli of the existing international legal order and must accept its principles as they find them is open to serious doubt since the practice of the New States does not supply sufficient evidence of such a fait accompli’.75 He portrayed the New States as largely inheritors of the classic law of nations: ‘[w]hat may be emphasised here is that the New States have invoked (often unwittingly) certain legal rights which had been part and parcel of the classic law of nations, while displaying a negative attitude towards nineteenth-century international law’.76 As Alexandrowicz noted, a central point of contention for New States as they emerged to independence concerned the right to their natural resources and to engage in processes of nationalization. Alexandrowicz recognized in General Assembly Resolution 1803 (XVII) of December 14, 1962, as well as in state practice, ‘the expression of an opinio juris communis of the member states of the Family of Nations’.77 With the UN resolution, foreign investors could only ‘fall back on national treatment without resort to minimum standards which have lost much of their former legal validity’.78 For Alexandrowicz, this presented an example of the New States breaking away from the restrictions established by the 19th century. In an important footnote at the end of the article on ‘New States and International Law’—and it is interesting that he submerged it in a footnote—Alexandrowicz turned to the question whether the New States were ‘bound to accept the General principles of Law’ and there, after enlisting Hersch Lauterpacht in the critique of positivism and following the long line of his own work, invoked the ‘influence of certain fundamental principles of Hindu and Islamic law on the General Principles of Law’.79 With clear indignation, he asserted that the New States ‘can confidently defy the Eurocentric classification of nations into those which made history and those which lack history’ and significantly, still in the footnote, he cited RP Anand’s New States and International Law, which appeared two years before Alexandrowicz’s article.80 The message, tucked away in that final footnote, is important to highlight in a way Alexandrowicz himself elected not to do. Indeed, we see some of Alexandrowicz’s strongest messaging in his footnotes as if he viewed them as vehicles of a special nature.81 Alexandrowicz also recognised the economic and social developmentalist drive of the New States. In the middle of his article on ‘New States and International Law’, he compared the Western, Marxist, and New State approaches to economic planning. ‘The West’, he explained, ‘stuck to the pattern of a free competitive economy corrected by a system of framework planning. In the international field this found expression in the creation of a number of co-ordinating agencies which are in charge of planning one or another sector of economic or social activity’.82 The Marxist countries ‘rely on central economic (total) planning which requires different legal media.’83 That left the New States along with other developing nations to ‘follow the tenets of development planning which represents a compromise solution’.84 In collapsing the New States with other developing countries into a single ‘compromise’ position, Alexandrowicz was not on particularly solid ground. One might merely think of the divergent economic approaches that neighbours Ghana and Nigeria took following their independence.85 But his assertion is significant in light of his books on international economic cooperation, where his own convictions were openly displayed, not only as to the importance of international economic cooperation as an underpinning for a democratic international society but also to his advocacy for certain solutions, such as his repeated praise for John Maynard Keynes’s proposal to adopt an International Clearing Union as a ‘pivot’ for the world’s economy.86 Admittedly, the second of Alexandrowicz’s two books on international economic agencies appeared in 1962, over a decade before the article on the New States, and both of those books were hardly at the intellectual level of his historical work or his writing on the Indian Constitution. Nevertheless, his easy tripartite categorization of international economic philosophies in the ‘New States’ article comes across as trite from someone with extensive international economic experience and sophistication. This appears to be a case where the quest for schema gets the better of him. In the context of economic and social developmentalism, it is enlightening to turn to Alexandrowicz’s book on the Indian Constitution and his observation regarding the reduced judicial review, in the form that had been adopted by a constitutional amendment ‘giving the Government more freedom in interfering in the economic life of the country and in promoting the welfare state’.87 In addition, Alexandrowicz tells us that the Indian ‘Constituent Assembly had laid down a programme of social and economic reform [whose] immediate purpose was to secure a smooth implementation of land reform’.88 Alexandrowicz was, of course, close to the government and leading figures in the Constituent Assembly, and, with his choice of the word ‘smooth’, there is little question where his sympathies lay. Alexandrowicz’s book on the Indian Constitution was published in 1957, the very year that Ghana gained independence, the first of the Sub-Saharan African nations to do so. So it is difficult to take Alexandrowicz’s writing on early independent India and too readily to apply it to the 1970s, but perhaps there was something from his Nehruvian Indian experience that stuck. When Alexandrowicz addressed the European-African confrontation of the 19th century, he viewed positivism at its height and at its worst. And in what I have described as his long 19th century, Alexandrowicz narrated the creation of a purely Christian, Western club of nations, the adoption of the constitutive over the declaratory theory of the recognition of states, and the ‘scramble for titles’ with its explosion in the wake of the Berlin Conference. This represented, for him, an era of declension in the history of the Law of Nations, with the natural law equality of states regardless of race or religion giving way to a Eurocentric rush for domination. It is a world where the publicists would have little sense that Asian states had a significant impact on the framing of the Law of Nations. For Alexandrowicz, everything seemed to be turned on its head. The positivists were blind to the historical role of capitulations in Asian society: The positivists of the nineteenth century considered capitulations as evidence of [the] inferior civilisation of Oriental countries which applied such capitulations. The argument runs in the direction of claiming the superiority of the European power whose subjects residing in an Oriental country were not subject to the jurisdiction of the territorial sovereign but to their own consular jurisdiction…. The fallacy of this argumentation is obvious. According to ancient Asian tradition the receiving sovereign would always allow a settlement of merchants to govern itself by its own law under its own jurisdiction.89 Alexandrowicz made this point repeatedly across a number of his articles in both English and French. In part, it encapsulated his larger message, that the positivist prism was simply unable to reflect correctly the true value and contribution of Asian civilisation to the practice of states. But the scramble for territories in Africa was a special case for him. The Berlin Conference and the ensuing rush represented an already ongoing process of legally orchestrated protectorates being turned into colonial protectorates as part of a two-step process of annexation. Alexandrowicz showed it to be a complete charade. But, as I have described, he was keen on reflecting the care and earnestness of much of the treaty making, including the role of translators. The various treaties were binding instruments—but they were unceremoniously abrogated at the convenience of European powers. It was with this precise background in view, as I have suggested, that Alexandrowicz approached the South West Africa cases. It was not that his argument varied from the main points being made for Ethiopia and Liberia in these cases, but rather that he placed them in the context of his broader treatment of the legal obligations that treaties embodied. There was immense irony in the fact that the ‘sacred trust of civilisation’ turned out not to be sacred at all or, in the view of the ICJ ‘majority’, merely moral in nature rather than having true legal bearing. Alexandrowicz wanted, in the very politically driven reign of positivism, for treaties to be still recognized as treaties. Pacta sunt servanda is in every textbook and must mean something. But with the growing numbers of ‘New States’—here it is worth remembering Armitage and Pitts’s observation that Alexandrowicz shied away from referring to the Third World or the Non-Aligned Movement90—the balance may have been shifting and he was able to argue, along with others such as Taslim Olawale Elias, that General Assembly resolutions could be classified as nothing less than the opinio juris communis of the international community. India and what it means to be a state When Alexandrowicz began his sojourn in Madras in 1951, as I recounted in Part I, it bears remembering that he did so to establish India’s first programme of international and constitutional law: the reference to constitutional law is important here.91 I have mentioned Alexandrowicz’s book on the Indian Constitution in several contexts, but it is worth considering that book as an additional avenue to his studies on the Law of Nations. The book’s final chapter is on ‘India and the Family of Nations’, where he addressed the binding character of international law on the state and the relationship between international and municipal law, and specifically focused on Article 51(c) of the Indian Constitution, which calls upon the state to endeavour to ‘foster respect for international law and treaty obligations in the dealings of organized peoples with one another’.92 With a discussion of English law’s adoption of ‘Blackstone’s doctrine according to which the law of nations is part of the law of the land’,93 Alexandrowicz discussed recent court cases in Madras—where he slipped in a reference to the issue having been addressed by Vattel ‘nearly two hundred years ago … in his Droit des Gens’—and Rajasthan, where he suggested the general applicability of the English framework.94 Article 51(c), he concluded, ‘belongs to the type of incorporative or rather hortatory international law clauses which can be found in a number of post-war Constitutions such as the Constitutions of Burma, Japan, South Korea, in the Constitutions of some of the Latin American countries and in some recent European Constitutions’.95 Indian judges, ‘determining the inter-relationship between municipal and international law in India[,] have to rely on common law principles which promote respect for international law more efficiently than constitutional provisions which are not made enforceable’.96 Alexandrowicz would go on to discuss the relationship of India to the Commonwealth and to the British monarchy and devoted a full chapter of his book on the Constitution to establishing India’s federal character rather than, as suggested by some, being characterized by ‘quasi-federalism’. For my analysis, the specific international law portions of Alexandrowicz’s Indian Constitution book may be of less interest than the book as a whole. In essence—in addition to his overall polemical point about the need to pay attention to the Constituent Assembly Debates—Alexandrowicz’s project was to show what it means to be a state. This is perhaps analogous to Kautilya’s Arthasastra, even if Alexandrowicz hardly replicates the table of contents of Kautilya’s book with its parsing out the exact roles of everyone in a state, including a vast array of ‘superintendents’, the setting of punishments and the workings of trials, the conduct of war, and the activities of spies. From its table of contents, Alexandrowicz’s book seems to focus on the standard issues of constitutional structure, such as the separation of powers, various limits on judicial review, and his analysis of India’s federalism. But in the middle of his structural analysis of the constitutional framework was a vision of social and economic reform. TS Rama Rao credits Alexandrowicz with having ‘coined the now well-known term of “Protective Discrimination” to describe the measures to protect the interests of the weaker and backward sections of the people, envisaged in Arts. 15(4) and 16(4) of the Constitution’.97 In his discussion of ‘Equality and Protective Discrimination’, Alexandrowicz wrote forcefully that ‘[i]t was therefore essential to enact, apart from the general provision of article 14, a number of detailed provisions specifying the attributes of equality, and moreover to provide for a degree of discrimination in favour of backward sections of the community such as would speed up the process of real equalization’.98 In his conclusion, Alexandrowicz focused on the project of social reform and cited Ambedkar, the Dalit who had become the leading figure in the Constituent Assembly: ‘[t]he whole problem is connected with a re-orientation in matters of religion as envisaged in Dr Ambedkar’s forceful statements and to some extent implemented in Swamiar’s case’.99 In addition, Alexandrowicz expressed, even in 1957, a real concern for the health of an India subject to one-party rule: Until a proper opposition is formed and achieves a minimum of homogeneity in spite of political diversity, Congress remains responsible for the government and unity of the country. Should the formation of a homogeneous opposition prove impossible, there are only two other alternatives: one is the formation of a multi-party system in spite of the electoral system in force, which would introduce French constitutional practice into Indian politics, the other and less desirable is authoritarian government which would be a strange phenomenon in contemporary India.100 Alexandrowicz—closely associated with the legal elite of India as an honorary legal advisor to the Indian Government, as well as with Nehru himself—was able not only to criticize members of India’s judiciary for a seeming lack of interest in the Constituent Assembly Debates but also to articulate, in ominous tones, concern about the future role of the Congress Party. Alexandrowicz’s book, much of it written in an unassuming voice, was ultimately quite forceful. His book ends with a set piece: Though India pursued in many respects her own policy, not necessarily consistent with that of other member States of the Commonwealth, it is obvious from the development of her democratic institutions that she belongs to the brotherhood of nations which strive to make the rule of law prevail over the rule of force.101 This pronouncement directly presages the message of his work on positivism, the scramble for Africa, and the South West Africa cases. The statement at the end of his Constitution book was characteristic of his image of India, its democratic instincts, and its commitment to law. But the book also has a message about the religious underpinnings of discrimination in India. Comparing the Jim Crow laws of the US—where he cites Plessy v Ferguson along with Brown v Board of Education of Topeka—with Indian society, he maintains that the forms of discrimination in India are ‘directly or indirectly connected with a religious tradition’.102 And immediately after citing Ambedkar in the Swamiar’s case, Alexandrowicz wrote: ‘[t]he progressive elements in India do not hesitate to insist on respecting a new line of demarcation between religion in the strict sense of the word and religious practice amounting to secular activity which would enable the State to gain more control over the community at the cost of an outlived tradition’.103 In fact, ‘[e]nlightened religion’, Alexandrowicz asserted, ‘has to face the developments of the age with a self-limiting capacity’.104 Religion, or rather its negative impact, remained throughout an important touchstone for Alexandrowicz. He was, as I have suggested, forceful on the negative impact of religion in his Constitution book. Indeed, he asserted that ‘India is a country where religion still occupies a predominant position among the masses’.105 And looking for improvement, he wrote: There are two ways of adapting religion to modern conditions and of bringing a progressive secular State into being, one as applied by Kemal Pasha who modernized Turkey by the adoption of drastic methods of social reform; the other by gradual evolution. The Prime Minister and the Government of India advocate the second way and neither legislators nor judges have disagreed with the solution.106 Alexandrowicz here was invoking the standard link of progress and secularism, one that is central to the modernist project. He would address the question of religious tolerance, with a long footnote on the development of the judicial understanding in the US of the separation of church and state along with a quotation from the eminent US Constitutional scholar, Edward Corwin: ‘[a]lthough the Court has the right to make history it has no right to make it up’.107 In Alexandrowicz’s discussion of religious tolerance, there was no hint of India’s having stood with the US and the UK in blocking the adoption of stronger religious tolerance language for the UN Declaration of Human Rights in its coverage of minority rights.108 And there was no hint of the immensely violent partition of India and Pakistan at the time of their independence.109 Although religious unrest and violence could have contributed to Alexandrowicz’s argument for the retrograde force of religion in the Subcontinent, it did not appear on the stage for his book on the Indian Constitution. His most important message about religion was clear, that it represented a hurdle to the modernisation of Indian society.110 As I have suggested elsewhere in the article, Alexandrowicz prized the secular. Indeed, as argued in Part I of this article, one of the key traits of Grotius lauded by Alexandrowicz was his very secularism.111 Significantly, the East Indies were an incubator for the secular in the Law of Nations. Thus, for example, Alexandrowicz guided us to the treaties that ‘flourished during the period of the development of the Law of Nations in Europe’ and underscored the point that the ‘gathering momentum of European-East Indian treaty relations certainly precipitated the process of secularisation of our Law of Nations’.112 In his article on GF de Martens, Alexandrowicz made a similar point that ‘European-Asian treaty making over an uninterrupted period of three centuries helped to overcome the obstacles on the part of Christian writers as to the validity of treaties between Christian and non-Christian powers’, so that the ‘impact on the secularisation of treaty law as such was remarkable’.113 Alexandrowicz similarly wrote in his East Indies book that ‘intensive treaty making had its impact on the evolution of the law and contributed to its secularization’.114 Alexandrowicz—the Catholic student of canon law—also repeatedly paired canon law and jihad as twin forces spurring religious war. As discussed in Part I of this article, he summoned the rector of the Jagiellonian University, Vladimiri, as an early protagonist in his cause against canon law in the early fifteenth century. In his depiction of Vladimiri, Alexandrowicz asserted that, ‘unlike the case of the Christian-Islamic struggle which remained ideologically in the strait-jacket of religious fanaticism, the Polish-Teutonic conflict over pagan communities allowed a more dispassionate examination of the issues involved and provided a useful though hitherto unexplored antecedent of events and problems which arose a hundred years later in connexion with European penetration in the East and West Indies’.115 Alexandrowicz’s pairing of Freitas and Grotius, discussed in Part I, also showed the former to be still steeped in a Christian-driven venture abroad.116 In his essay entitled ‘Freitas Versus Grotius’, Alexandrowicz identifies Gentili as following in Freitas’s path: ‘Gentili draws our attention to the fact that treaties concluded with Islamic countries used to provide for cessation of hostilities only’—which is to say the state of war between Christians and Moslems could never definitively end.117 ‘Thus’, Alexandrowicz noted, ‘similarly to Freitas but unlike Grotius, [Gentili] envisages a state of affairs between Christian and Islamic Powers which reflected Jihad and the Christian counter-doctrine to a great extent formulated on the basis of Canon law’.118 If Freitas foreshadowed Grotius, the European confrontation with the East Indies remained critical to Alexandrowicz. In his East Indies book, for example, he wrote: The prohibitions of canon law and Koranic law, in so far as they had come into play in the East Indies, lost much of their significance in the seventeenth century and disappeared under the pressure of commercial treaty making. As the latter gathered momentum, treaty practice in the East Indies contributed significantly to the secularization of the law of nations.119 At the core of this was Alexandrowicz’s vision of an East Indian order that softened martial religiosity. He would refer repeatedly to the difference between the Moghuls and the Ottomans, asserting that ‘[w]herever Islam had risen in the East Indies on the foundations of Hindu tradition and civilization, it maintained towards the Christian newcomer an attitude of relative tolerance and coexistence’.120 If ‘the principles of canon law and coranic law came to mortal grips’, Alexandrowicz explained, ‘the conflict never extended in practice to Hindu and Buddhist communities and the principle of propagatio fidei never became a pretext of waging wars against them’.121 And it is to Kautilya and the Kautilyan tradition that he referred: ‘[p]erhaps the strongest influence of the Kautilyan tradition revealed itself in the trend towards the secularization of the law of nations in the Hindu sphere of influence in the East Indies’.122 I have mentioned Alexandrowicz’s championing of natural law, whether in a religious or secular mode, and yet he clearly favoured the latter and, significantly for him, Kautilya’s Arthasastra represented a secular guide. I have already referenced his assertion regarding the Kautilyan tradition’s import on ‘the trend towards the secularization of the law of nations in the Hindu sphere of influence in the East Indies’.123 But what is particularly interesting here, and it bears emphasising, is that the secular for Alexandrowicz was at once part of a worthy modern project—not one of his asides with ‘progressive’ in scare quotes—and reflected in a text traditionally attributed to the fourth century BCE. There is little question that the secular, as particularly clear in his study of the Indian Constitution, embodied, for him, the modern as opposed to the benighted, and yet it is also tied to ancient precedent. Alexandrowicz’s narrative was very much about modernisation at the same time that it was about renascence. The Bandung moment In 1955 a large group of African and Asian states met at Bandung for the famous Bandung Conference. Armitage and Pitts tell us that Alexandrowicz ‘never discussed the Bandung Conference of Asian and African nations that met in Indonesia in April 1955’ and this despite Nehru’s playing so leading a role in the conference.124 David Kennedy has suggested that Alexandrowicz may have been concerned by what he may have seen as an adoption of a strong positivism by Third World nations.125 Alexandrowicz, of course, directly addressed the international legal positioning of the New States with regard to issues of succession, as he did in ‘The New States and International Law’. There he set out the two opposing approaches to rights of New States, the ‘orthodox’ and the ‘revisionist’, which Matthew Craven would later see emblematised in the debate between warring visions of Hague Academy lectures in 1970 between DP O’Connell and Mohammed Bedjaoui.126 For Alexandrowicz, the New States have ‘invoked (often unwittingly) certain legal rights which had been part and parcel of the classic law of nations, while displaying a negative attitude towards nineteenth-century international law’, which he found ‘quite understandable’.127 Current state practice by New States showed a ‘paradoxical development’. For Alexandrowicz, It shows that they tend to demand a revision of the Eurocentric international law of the nineteenth century, in the formation of which they were not allowed to participate and which survived until the middle of the present century. On the other hand, they accept certain principles of the classic law of nations which were based on natural law doctrine … now revived in a different shape within the framework of the United Nations.128 Alexandrowicz proceeds through a careful rendering of the character of peremptory rules ‘from which no derogation is permitted’, jus cogens.129 This would seemingly cut against the totally free decision-making of the New States. But the range of activity by the New States was rather large, and Alexandrowicz saw the most controversial element of the debate, focusing on economic rights, as having been decided in favour of the New States. If Luis Eslava, Michael Fakhri, and Vasuki Nesiah identify ‘developmentalism’ as the signature element of the ‘Bandung Spirit’ for the participants in Bandung and in the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD),130 Alexandrowicz clearly recognized the importance of ‘developmentalism’ to the New States as providing a middle path between Marxist and Western economic approaches. Specifically in their approach to foreign investment, Alexandrowicz acknowledged that ‘New States are frequently driven to the adoption of programmes of nationalisation, usually in the framework of national economic planning’.131 To Kennedy’s point, Alexandrowicz wrote back in 1964 that: Positivism divorced from the pre-nineteenth century principle of universality of the family of nations was therefore bound to degenerate into a self-defeating system, for though it is obvious today that the law must be universal, its universality cannot be based on a multitude of egocentric positivist schools of thought, be they Asian, African, or East European (Communist).132 Nevertheless, Alexandrowicz, while pressing the importance of the true legal, rather than political, framework in his ‘New States’ article in 1974, provided a roadmap that was not so far from the ‘Spirit of Bandung’ described by Eslava, Fakhri, and Nesiah. Alexandrowicz, Global History, and his Romantic Narrative In a book review, in which Prabhakar Singh engages with both the increasing focus on the history of international law and global history, he writes in his first paragraph that Alexandrowicz ‘offered, if you will, the first moment in the turn to history of the law of nations and empire in that he studied East Asia, Indochina and South Asia’.133 We are in a time when ‘global history’ is in increasing vogue, so much so that there are increasingly historiographical studies of the phenomenon, such as Sebastian Conrad’s What is Global History?134 There have been impressive recent efforts in global history, such as CA Bayly’s volumes, The Birth of the Modern World and Remaking the Modern World, and Jürgen Osterhammel’s The Transformation of the World—and in the history of the international legal order, Lauren Benton’s works starting with A Search for Sovereignty.135 But before these recent efforts there were the studies by Immanuel Wallerstein of ‘World Systems’ and, of course, Arnold Toynbee, who was Director of Studies of Chatham House and edited multiple years of its annual Survey of International Affairs. It is difficult to imagine the paths of Toynbee and Alexandrowicz not crossing. In this context, it is important to remember that Alexandrowicz was publishing in the Annales school’s journal at the same time that Fernand Braudel was producing his three volumes on civilization and capital from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century, and Braudel’s 1949 study of the Mediterranean had already addressed a cross-cultural, multifaceted world.136 In discussing the study of the confrontation of European with the extra-European world, Andrew Fitzmaurice notes that the most important legal exchange between Europeans and non-Europeans is to be found in treaties. He posits that to ‘the degree that a global history of the law of nations has been written for the period of European expansion prior to the twentieth century, it has focused upon treaties’ and in a footnote he identifies Alexandrowicz as ‘[a] pioneer in this field’.137 In essence, Alexandrowicz is the treaty guy, and we think of Alexandrowicz as one who pored over the texts of treaties in various archives in India and elsewhere, as well as reading massive published collections of treaties, rather than as a Cambridge School practitioner who would perform a contextual close reading of the evolution of occupatio and imperium in political theory. Although Alexandrowicz too read texts deeply in context, he was particularly interested in the broader frame. If one looks at the studies of global history, their titles tend to suggest, and, in fact they are absorbed in, the diachronic—births, searches, transformations, makings, and remakings. Bayly addresses global impacts, some pushed out from the centre: ‘[t]hese social and economic changes were uneven and unsettling’, he was to remark, ‘[t]hey opened up differentials between groups and between different societies’.138 Indeed, the ‘turmoil was worldwide’ and ‘French philosophers and religious teachers in central Arabia felt equally the impact of the new connections and the turbulence they unleashed’.139 He also identifies the impact of modernity as largely identifying oneself as modern or, alternatively, aspiring to modernity: ‘[a]t one level, then, the nineteenth century was the age of modernity precisely because a considerable number of thinkers, statesmen, and scientists who dominated the ordering of society believed it to be so. It was also a modern age because poorer and subordinated people around the world thought they could improve their status and life-chances by adopting badges of this mythical modernity, whether these were fob watches, umbrellas, or new religious texts’.140 As suggested by this observation, Bayly, while deeply engaged in a global narrative and telling local subnarratives of the broader story, remains essentially focused on a story that tends to emanate from the metropole. That is true of much of the history that tries to grapple with the colonial encounter. By comparison, Alexandrowicz is deeply interested in the move of practices and norms from the extra-European world, primarily the East Indian world, to the centre, which frames the so-called ‘Alexandrowicz thesis’. Nevertheless, Alexandrowicz prized secularisation, and, despite his enlisting of Kautilya’s help in the secular cause, that secularism was ultimately tied to modernisation, as evidenced in numerous of his writings and particularly, as referenced above, in his study of the Indian Constitution. As we know, Alexandrowicz’s historical narrative was hardly a simple tale of modernisation and progress, as is evidenced by his use of scare quotes around the word ‘progressive’ mentioned earlier. Anthony Anghie has suggested that Alexandrowicz had a ‘somewhat romantic idea about naturalism’.141 Indeed, Alexandrowicz’s praise for the long era of naturalist scholarship was overwrought. But I would like here to take the Romantic reference more literally and carry the Romantic frame a step further to suggest that Alexandrowicz’s narrative follows the ‘Romantic spiral’ described by MH Abrams in Natural Supernaturalism, his study of Romanticism, as a literary narrative of declension and return—albeit one in which the return is still under construction.142 It is a hoped-for future, essentially a secular redemption. David Kennedy has guided us to see ‘modern’ international lawyers finding themselves mirrored in the past, and not understanding the true gulf between themselves and the ‘primitive’ legal scholars.143 To this point, Alexandrowicz was hardly alone in summoning past writers as heroes for the moment. One sees that in so many of the admirers of Vitoria, Grotius, and other early writers. Along with Lauterpacht’s invocation of a ‘Grotian tradition’, they clearly saw viable models in the past. The nostalgic turn is summoned to identify a usable past, which is why so much biography is autobiography. But biography can also be critical genealogy as exemplified by Anghie’s treatment of Vitoria as part of his genealogy of the discipline of international law. Indeed, Alexandrowicz’s critique of positivism is just such a genealogical effort. What one finds in Alexandrowicz’s history is the work of a deeply serious historian and legal scholar, with immense skill, creating a history that was overtly presentist. Although that is standard fare, I have argued that Alexandrowicz’s history is marked by its penchant for the overly schematic. He may be subtle about there being secular and religious flavours of naturalism, and delve deeply into the differences among Vitoria, Grotius, Vattel, and other medieval and early modern thinkers—naturalists all—but, ultimately, his narrative reduces to easy essences. With Alexandrowicz’s study of India and Further India—as well as his study of the European-African confrontation—it is difficult not to bring the lens of Edward Said and his Orientalism to the narrative of power relations. In an endnote to Alexandrowicz’s East Indies book, Alexandrowicz wrote: Most of our present-day orientalists stressed the greatness of Asian civilizations. Their views seem to be generally ignored by historians of international law who maintained until recently that the independent Asian States entered the family of nations with considerable delay owing to their inferior civilization.144 Whilst noting that ‘rationalists like Bentham and James Mill ignored the significance of Asian civilizations’, Alexandrowicz countered that ‘we find ample appreciation for its values in the writings of Sir William Jones’, and here he cited an article by SN Mukherjee in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society.145 Said’s Orientalism includes numerous references to Jones, and Jones fits into his sustained argument, stating when he comes to George Nathaniel Curzon: ‘[f]rom the days of Sir William Jones the Orient had been both what Britain ruled and what Britain knew about it: the coincidence between geography, knowledge, and power, with Britain always in the master’s place, was complete’.146 And Said added, ‘[t]o have said, as Curzon once did, that “the East is a University in which the scholar never takes his degree” was another way of saying that the East required one’s presence there more or less forever’.147 By tying Jones to Curzon, the Viceroy of India, Said made it difficult to avoid his blanket indictment. Praising Indian political culture, even as a potential source for the international law of the West, as well as speaking to the commercial background of the institution of capitulations, may not allow Alexandrowicz to evade a Saïdian critique. After all, Alexandrowicz was largely guilty of the charge of having essentialised the political culture of the East. If Said wrote that ‘Orientalism assumed an unchanging Orient’,148 Alexandrowicz did see the Kautilyan tradition as deeply engrained in the political culture of India and Further India. And in identifying the tradition embedded in Moghul India, it could be contrasted directly with the jihad of the Ottoman Empire. Of course, those ideas were shared by a vast array of Indian scholars, many of whom published in Alexandrowicz’s Indian Year Book of International Affairs.149 Of particular importance to Alexandrowicz in studying Indian and African cultures were, however, the commonalities they shared with the Western Law of Nations, especially in reference to the binding character of treaties. In his study of the East Indies, Alexandrowicz, as elsewhere, underscored the presence of pacta sunt servanda within East Indian political culture: Whatever the interconnection of treaty making and power politics, the conviction prevailed among all treaty makers in the East Indies that ‘pacta sunt servanda’ was an essential rule of the law. It had been emphasized at various periods on similar lines in Koranic law and in Hindu classic literature, particularly in Kautilya’s Arthasastra.150 Alexandrowicz was not alone here: Nagendra Singh, for example, amplified Alexandrowicz’s point by devoting the second chapter of his India and International Law to ‘Lex as Rex and Pacta Sunt Servanda’.151 When Alexandrowicz came to discuss European treaties with African countries, he pointed to the binding agreements of pre-colonial Africa, so in the context of German treaty making, he noted that ‘[a]ttention should be drawn to the inclusion in some of the above and later treaties of the clause relating to “Blutbruderschaft”, i.e. the blood pact or blood bond’.152 For Alexandrowicz, ‘the real significance of the ceremony … (in my view) is the assertion of the principle “Pacta sunt servanda”’.153 In his book on Africa, Alexandrowicz turned to an observation by FD Lugard, the British explorer and colonial officer, who ‘states that in search of a pattern of treaty making he found in Africa an institution which he considered parallel to the European idea of treaty as embodying the principle pacta sunt servanda.’154 Even in the jihad-oriented versions of law where there was a perpetual state of war with infidels, Alexandrowicz found that ‘[n]evertheless Islamic law relied firmly on the principle of “pacta sunt servanda”… it guaranteed the functioning of a mechanism of diplomatic exchanges … and it proved in the course of time flexible enough to modify its own original harshness which had characterised the first centuries of Islamic conquest’.155 Alexandrowicz opened his chapter on ‘Treaty Making in the East Indies’ in his East Indies book by noting that ‘[t]he period of the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed the evolution of certain patterns of treaty making, but treaty law as such was still far from being a system of generally accepted principles’.156 It seems that Gentili worked on the development of a notion of rebus sic stantibus, while Pufendorf ignored the importance of treaties, and Wolff and Vattel ‘failed to work out a systematic theory of treaties,’ leaving GF de Martens as the ‘first classic writer to undertake a scholarly analysis of the existing volume of treaties’.157 What is interesting here is that, somehow, the classic theorists of the Law of Nations never systematised their view of treaties. In the chapter of the East Indies book on ‘Treaty Making in the East Indies’, Alexandrowicz was keen to focus on Martens, trying to accommodate his emerging positivism with a capacity to recognize the subjecthood of Eastern states. Alexandrowicz advised, ‘[i]t is only through a joint reading of his Compendium of the Law of Nations (Précis), the Cours Diplomatique (1801) and the Receuil des Traités (1791) that it is possible to perceive the wider horizons which his analysis of the treaty material tended to open’.158 Alexandrowicz would conclude, ‘[t]hus in spite of his reluctance to draw the logical conclusion from the extensive Asian treaty material which he included in his three main works and to accept (in accordance with Ompteda’s suggestion) a positive law of nations extending from Europe to Asian States, he does not exclude the latter from the natural family of nations in the wider sense. In particular Martens is not a positivist of the constitutive school of thought as later evolved out of Hegelian ideology’.159 Alexandrowicz’s focus in his East Indies book is on recognition of Asian states in treaty making rather than focus on the pacta sunt servanda-rebus sic stantibus binary. If, with that binary in mind, we return to the flexibility he envisioned for the New States in the 1970s, he did not focus on changes in conditions and the application of the principle of rebus sic stantibus as he did a recognition of changes in the frame of the world legal order itself. Although it might seem a throw-away line in his brief discussion of the immaturity of the classic authors in developing a theory of treaties, it is interesting that, although he will turn to Martens as the one who wrestled most with treaties, he nevertheless made clear that ‘Grotius advocated real treaties as a medium of stability and continuity in international relations but pronounced himself against the concept of rebus sic stantibus as undermining the principle of good faith in treaties’.160 Alexandrowicz could look to Grotius to have taken a firm stance on pacta sunt servanda. And as we have seen, a strong sense of pacta sunt servanda was central to Alexandrowicz’s critique of the European powers with their ‘colonial protectorates’ in Africa and the decision of the ICJ in 1966 in the South West Africa cases. Ultimately, Alexandrowicz had an unwavering commitment to the law in the Law of Nations. Alexandrowicz certainly had a keen sense of the social and political instrumentality of law, but finally he identified law itself as an ontological essence. Alexandrowicz was an exile adopting India and Australia as stations abroad, writing about international lawyers in exile—starting with Grotius in France, who had himself escaped his Calvinist imprisonment by being secreted out in a chest purportedly filled with books, the eminent scholar disguised as scholarship. Despite his exile from exile, Alexandrowicz was seemingly well connected with everyone in the field of international affairs, not to mention his ability to publish in the organ of the Annales school. From his perspective, Alexandrowicz clearly saw the impact of the nakedly political in international affairs—even if his work was exceedingly schematic, both excessively valorising his classic authors and seemingly overlooking the sheer violence of early modern colonialism. In his mind, he was confident of a law freed from any Austinian anxiety as the lodestone for his science. Footnotes 1 Carl Landauer, ‘The Polish Rider: CH Alexandrowicz and the Reorientation of International Law, Part I: Madras Studies’ (2019) 7 London Review of International Law 321. 2 Mark McClish has produced an important study, using stylistic, structural, and thematic analysis, arguing that the Kautilyan text was based upon a much earlier source text that was later reworked and philosophically altered. Mark McClish, The History of the Arthasastra: Sovereignty and Sacred Law in Ancient India (CUP 2019). 3 CH Alexandrowicz, The European-African Confrontation: A Study in Treaty Making (Sijthoff 1973). 4 South-West Africa Cases (Ethiopia v South Africa; Liberia v South Africa) [1966] ICJ Rep 6. 5 David Armitage and Jennifer Pitts, ‘“This Modern Grotius”: An Introduction to the Life and Thought of CH Alexandrowicz’ in CH Alexandrowicz, The Law of Nations in Global History (David Armitage and Jennifer Pitts eds, OUP 2017) 13. 6 ibid 19. 7 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Mogul Sovereignty and the Law of Nations’ [1955] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 67-68. 8 ibid 68. 9 ibid. 10 CH Alexandrowicz, An Introduction to the History of the Law of Nations in the East Indies (16th, 17thand 18thCenturies) (OUP 1967) 11. 11 ibid. 12 ibid 156. 13 ibid. 14 ibid 189. 15 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘G.F. de Martens on Asian Treaty Practice’ [1964] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 191. 16 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Doctrinal Aspects of the Universality of the Law of Nations’ [1961] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 173. 17 Armitage and Pitts (2017) 20. 18 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Theory of Recognition in Fieri’ [1958] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 354. 19 ibid 366. 20 ibid 367. 21 ibid 371 (emphasis in original). 22 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Some Problems in the History of the Law of Nations in Asia’ [1963] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 79. 23 ibid 79-80. 24 Alexandrowicz (1973) 47. See also CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Partition of Africa by Treaty’ [1974] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 245; CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Role of Treaties in the European-African Confrontation in the Nineteenth Century’ [1975] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 280. 25 Alexandrowicz (2017) 245. 26 ibid 232. 27 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Role of German Treaty Making in the Partition of Africa’ [1980] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 333. 28 ibid 333 note 128. 29 Alexandrowicz (1973) 52 (quoting Lugard). 30 ibid 50. 31 ibid 55. 32 Alexandrowicz (2017) 248. 33 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Discriminatory Clause in South Asian Treaties in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’ [1957] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 143. 34 Alexandrowicz (1973) 122. 35 Alexandrowicz (2017) 248. 36 ibid. 37 ibid 250. 38 ibid 251. 39 ibid. 40 Armitage and Pitts (2017) 24. 41 Lauren Benton, Adam Clulow and Bain Attwood (eds), Protection and Empire: A Global History (CUP 2018). 42 Alexandrowicz (1973) 112. 43 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The Juridical Expression of the Sacred Trust of Civilization’ [1971] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 336-46. 44 Myres S McDougal, Harold D Lasswell and Lung-chu Chen, Human Rights and World Public Order: The Basic Policies of an International Law of Human Dignity (2ndedn, OUP 2018) 539. 45 ibid 539 note 505. 46 Alexandrowicz (2017) 346. 47 Alexandrowicz (1973) 116. 48 Alexandrowicz (2017) 339. 49 ibid. 50 Alexandrowicz (1973) 112-13. 51 ibid 111. 52 ibid 113. 53 Alexandrowicz (2017) 342. 54 Alexandrowicz (1973) 115. 55 ibid 6. 56 ibid 116. 57 ibid. 58 ibid 117. 59 Alexandrowicz (2017) 341. 60 Alexandrowicz (1973) 117-18. 61 Alexandrowicz (2017) 230. 62 ibid quoting L Oppenheim, International Law, vol 1 (3rd edn, Longmans, Green & Co 1920). 63 Alexandrowicz (2017) 231. 64 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘New and Original States: The Issue of Reversion to Sovereignty’ [1969] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 390. 65 Mostafa Minawi will tell us that the entrance of the Ottoman empire into the Western family of nations was an act of ‘forgetting’ on part of both the Europeans and the Turks. He articulated this in his talk for the ‘International Law and the Precarity of Ottoman Sovereignty in Africa at the End of the Nineteenth Century’ 3 June 2020 session of the ‘Global History of International Law’ series sponsored by Sciences Po. Minawi writes in his related article, ‘[h]ighlighting the difference in European attitudes towards the Ottoman Empire across three inter-imperial conferences in 1856, 1878, and 1884-5, I will briefly plot the methods by which the Ottomans were gradually shut out from inter-imperial agreements over the span of three decades, a process which effectively moved the Ottoman Empire along a 19th-century continuum of imperial rule—from subject to object of European colonialism’. Mostafa Minawi, ‘International Law and the Precarity of Ottoman Sovereignty in Africa at the End of the Nineteenth Century’ (2020) International History Review. 66 Alexandrowicz (2017) 391. 67 ibid. 68 ibid. 69 ibid 392. 70 ibid 394. 71 ibid 400. 72 ibid. 73 ibid 396. 74 ibid 397. 75 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘The New States and International Law’ [1974] Alexandrowicz (2017) 404. 76 ibid 406. 77 ibid 407. 78 ibid. 79 ibid 410 note 16. 80 ibid. 81 On the special life of footnotes, see Anthony Grafton, The Footnote: A Curious History (Harvard UP 1997). For example, in discussing modern historians, who in footnotes might provide counter-evidence, Grafton writes that ‘[t]he footnotes form a secondary story, which moves with but differs sharply from the primary one’: ibid. 23. I have taken that observation and his book as a whole to keep always in mind the potential separate narrative that might be found in footnotes. 82 Alexandrowicz (2017) 408. 83 ibid. 84 ibid. 85 Note that Adom Getachew’s important book, Worldmaking After Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination (Princeton UP 2019), focuses a good deal of attention to Nkrumah and Nyerere with little comparison of their strategies to those of the leaders of other African states. 86 CH Alexandrowicz, International Economic Organisations (Stevens & Sons 1952); CH Alexandrowicz, World Economic Agencies: Law and Practice (Stevens & Sons 1962). 87 CH Alexandrowicz, Constitutional Developments in India (OUP 1957) 228. 88 ibid 229. 89 Alexandrowicz (2017) 268-69. 90 Armitage and Pitts (2017) 13. 91 Landauer (2019) 325-26. 92 Alexandrowicz (1957) 213. 93 ibid 214. 94 ibid 216-17. 95 ibid 218. Alexandrowicz here is not merely relying on his vast knowledge but provides a footnote to DR Deener, ‘International Law Provisions in Post-World War II Constitutions’ (1951) 36 Cornell Law Quarterly 505, 525. 96 Alexandrowicz (1957) 219. 97 TS Rama Rao, ‘Prof CH Alexandrowicz: A Tribute’ (1980) 18 Indian Year Book of International Affairs x. In his recent study of the Indian Constitution and the development of a democratic polity, Madhav Khosla spends a fair amount of time on Ambedkar’s call to explicitly reference lower-caste groups in the Constitution and mentions the disagreement between Ambedkar and Gandhi on this point: ‘But whereas Ambedkar sought the explicit recognition of lower-caste groups, Gandhi viewed special treatment as a form of segregation’. Madhav Khosla, India’s Founding Moment: The Constitution of a Most Surprising Democracy (Harvard UP 2020) 150. 98 Alexandrowicz (1957) 57. 99 ibid 227. 100 ibid 212. 101 ibid 238. 102 ibid 56. 103 ibid 227. 104 ibid. 105 ibid 70. 106 ibid. 107 ibid 69 note 97 quoting Edward S Corwin, ‘The Supreme Court as a National School Board’ (1949) 14(1) Law and Contemporary Problems 3, 20. (Alexandrowicz slightly altered Corwin’s formulation.) 108 Anna Su, Exporting Freedom: Religious Liberty and American Power (Harvard UP 2016) 83. 109 Regarding the horrors of the partition, see, e.g., Yasmin Khan, The Great Partition: The Making of India and Pakistan (Yale UP 2007). 110 Particularly useful in understanding modernisation in India in the context of the ideological evolution of the Indian sense of nation is Manu Goswami, Producing India: From Colonial Economy to National Space (Chicago UP 2004). Goswami, for example, explains, at 276, ‘[t]he postcolonial nation-state, especially during its Nehruvian incarnation, grounded its legitimacy on both democratic representativeness and the orchestration of a rational, state-centered, plan of development’. 111 Landauer (2019) 345-46. 112 Alexandrowicz (2017) 394. 113 ibid 192. 114 Alexandrowicz (1967) 177. 115 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Paulus Vladimiri and the Development of the Doctrine of Coexistence of Christian and Non-Christian Countries’ [1963] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 53. 116 Landauer (2019) 344. 117 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Freitas Versus Grotius’ [1959] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 138. 118 ibid. 119 Alexandrowicz (1967) 94. 120 ibid. 121 Alexandrowicz (2017) 57. 122 CH Alexandrowicz, ‘Kautilyan Principles and the Law of Nations’ [1965-66] in Alexandrowicz (2017) 51. Despite Alexandrowicz’s deep appreciation for Kautilya, Upendra Baxi recently published a paper he had written decades back as a comment to Alexandrowicz’s article, and Baxi’s article demonstrates a deeper dive into Kautilya without disagreeing with Alexandrowicz’s main argument. Upendra Baxi, ‘Kautilyan Principles and the Law of Nations: A Comment’ (2019) 2(1) Tamil Nadu National Law University Law Review 4. 123 Alexandrowicz (2017) 51. 124 Armitage and Pitts (2017) 13. 125 Email from David Kennedy to author (28 June 2019). 126 Matthew Craven, The Decolonization of International Law: State Succession and the Law of Treaties (OUP 2007) 82-90. 127 Alexandrowicz (2017) 406. 128 ibid. 129 ibid 409. 130 Luis Eslava, Michael Fakhri and Vasuki Nesiah, ‘The Spirit of Bandung’ in Luis Eslava, Michael Fakhri and Vasuki Nesiah (eds), Bandung, Global History, and International Law: Critical Pasts and Pending Futures (CUP 2017) 21 (‘So despite all the ideological diversity at Bandung, including disagreement on what constituted colonialism and imperialism, almost all Bandung delegates were united by a discourse of developmentalism’). 131 Alexandrowicz (2017) 406. 132 ibid 191. 133 P Singh, ‘Book Review: L Benton & L Ford, Rage for Order: The British Empire and the Origins of International Law, 1800-1850 & A Fitzmaurice, Sovereignty, Property and Empire, 1500-2000’ (2017) 28 European Journal of International Law 975. 134 Sebastian Conrad, What is Global History? (Princeton UP 2016). With its emergence, in addition to facing criticism, the field of global history has also been seen as a tide that is potentially ebbing, so that John-Paul Ghobrial opined in 2019 that ‘global history has become a victim of its own success.’ John-Paul A Ghobrial, ‘Introduction: Seeing the World Like a Microhistorian’ (2019) 242(Supplement 14) Past and Present 1, 6. Another interesting indicator was the Newcastle History Department’s hosting of a series of online seminars in 2021 called ‘After Global History’, although the seminars were really about ‘where do we go from here?’ rather than an all-out critique of global history. 135 CA Bayly, The Birth of the Modern World, 1780-1914: Global Connections and Comparisons (Blackwell 2004); CA Bayly, Remaking the Modern World, 1900-2015: Global Connections and Comparisons (Wiley & Sons 2018); Jürgen Osterhammel, The Transformation of the World: A Global History of the Nineteenth Century (Princeton UP 2015); Lauren Benton, A Search for Sovereignty: Law and Geography in European Empires, 1400-1900 (CUP 2010). 136 Studies of points of intense cultural intersection have also been aligned to global histories, whether studies of the place of Istanbul or more recently regarding the Indian Ocean or the Bay of Bengal. Sunil Amrith, for example, opens his study of the Bay of Bengal, ‘The Bay of Bengal was once a region at the heart of global history … The region was home to one of the world’s greatest migrations—but almost certainly the least well-known’. Sunil S Amrith, Crossing the Bay of Bengal: The Furies of Nature and the Fortunes of Migrants (Harvard UP 2013) 1-2. 137 Andrew Fitzmaurice, Sovereignty, Property and Empire, 1500-2000 (CUP 2014) 16 note 44. 138 Bayly (2004) 6. 139 ibid 6-7. 140 ibid 10-11. 141 Email from Anthony Anghie to author (27 February 2019). 142 MH Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature (WW Norton 1971) 185. 143 David Kennedy, ‘Primitive Legal Scholarship’ (1985) 22 Harvard International Law Journal 2 note 2. 144 Alexandrowicz (1967) 241 note O. 145 ibid. 146 Edward Said, Orientalism (Vintage 1979) 215. 147 ibid. 148 ibid 96. 149 Sanjay Subrahmanyam in Europe’s India tells of various attempts to address Said, such as rescuing ‘some “good” Orientalists from being tarred with the same brush as the others’, and Subrahmanyam sees his own work as moving on: ‘But let us make no mistake: this is very much a post-Saïdian book, rather than an effort to return to and revive old quarrels, or merely pick at old scabs’. Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Europe’s India: Words, People, Empires, 1500-1800 (Harvard UP 2017) xii-xiii. Prabhakar Singh uses Subrahmanyam to reference Said and Foucault’s place in the history of international law in his book review of the Benton-Ford and Fitzmaurice books but perhaps does not highlight Subrahmanyam’s own post-Saïdian move because of Said’s continuing import in Singh’s depiction of the state of play: Singh (2017) 976. 150 Alexandrowicz (1967) 177. 151 Nagendra Singh, India and International Law (S Chand & Co 1969) 13-21. On Singh’s argument that Indian international law principles foreshadowed Western international law, see C Landauer, ‘Passage from India: Nagendra Singh’s India and International Law’ (2016) 56 Indian Journal of International Law 2. 152 Alexandrowicz (2017) 324. 153 ibid 325. 154 Alexandrowicz (1973) 51. 155 ibid 12. 156 Alexandrowicz (1967) 158. 157 ibid. 158 ibid. 159 ibid 162. 160 ibid 158. © The Author(s) 2021. Published by Oxford University Press. 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TI - The Polish Rider: CH Alexandrowicz and the reorientation of international law, Part II: declension and the promise of renewal
JF - London Review of International Law
DO - 10.1093/lril/lrab007
DA - 2021-06-28
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/the-polish-rider-ch-alexandrowicz-and-the-reorientation-of-NU1H0jKDB8
SP - 1
EP - 1
VL - Advance Article
IS - 
DP - DeepDyve
ER -