Over the past fifty years, corporate advocates have co-opted the language and tactics of modern social movements to graft identity-based attributes onto the corporate entity. These new, personalized dimensions are deployed to weaken corporate regulations and, unlike more traditional forms of lobbying, endure beyond any single campaign. Taken together, they represent a reinvention of the modern corporation.
Beau Baumann’s case for legislative supremacy offers a compelling vision for the left. However, branding it as a form of “constitutional politics” risks obscuring its deeper claim: that nothing, not even the Constitution, should stand above democratic lawmaking. His vision will also face significant opposition from liberals and progressives, many of whom remain tempted by courts and presidential power.
If we are to realize the dream of post-Trump reconstruction, policy reform will not be enough. We must articulate a constitutional politics capable of dismantling both juristocracy and the modern managerial presidency.
In recent decades, work hours have sharply diverged: high-wage workers are logging more time on the job, while low-wage workers face shrinking hours. Rather than trying to fix this imbalance by creating more work, policymakers should redistribute work through stronger overtime protections and a shorter workweek. Yet for this approach to succeed, highly paid white-collar workers will have to confront their own attachment to a work-based social order.
In countries facing democratic backsliding, attention often centers on state capture of the press. Recent U.S. media failures, however, demand a wider lens. Authoritarian encroachment here rests on deeper layers of capitalist and oligarchic capture. Understanding how these different layers interact and reinforce one another is a necessary first step toward building a more democratic media system.
Law review articles are expected to conclude with a short section, often “Part IV,” that translates analysis into actionable prescriptions. Though well-intentioned, this convention constrains ambition, sidelines critique, and conflates near-term feasibility with rigor. In a moment of institutional unraveling and authoritarian threat, legal scholars and law review editors should resist the Part IV reflex and make space for bolder analyses, longer horizons, and more collective ways of imagining change.
At a recent convening devoted to the death of neoliberalism, what emerged was less a rupture with the past than a centrist project of status-quo stabilization.
In the recent exchange between the Marxists and the antitrusters, much of the disagreement has turned on different understandings of the project of antitrust reform. What is its animating goal? Is antitrust a substitute or complement to other forms of regulation? And how does antitrust relate to broader political movements? Identifying rival stances that one might take on these questions can help clarify this debate, while also showing how antitrust law can serve as an instrument for democratizing economic life.
In Free Gifts, Alyssa Battistoni explores capitalism’s persistent failure to value the natural world. Yet the lesson of this exploration is much broader: that capitalism imposes fundamental limits on our collective freedom.
In today’s polarized political discourse, it is easy to forget that the Bible’s economic values align better with LPE’s market critiques than with the neoliberal right’s twentieth-century synthesis. And it would be a mistake to surrender these resources to the post-liberal right.
Environmental harms are often cast as externalities, even by those seeking to emphasize their urgency. Yet the major modern environmental statutes, written before America’s neoliberal turn toward Coasean thinking, expressly rejected the use of economic analysis in designing pollution regulation. What does this history teach us, and how might our thinking shift if we rejected the idea that climate change is best thought of as an externality?
Alyssa Battistoni’s Free Gifts argues that capitalism limits our freedom to decide how to value the nonhuman world. Politics, as the domain in which we choose the terms of our collective life, has a special role to play in moving beyond these limitations. But what is Battistoni’s conception of politics, and how big is the effective space that the turn to politics opens up for such choice?
Law and political economy scholarship, immersed in a particular history of Northern law and capitalism, has tended to focus on US law and policy, with occasional excursions into Europe. But in a world where imperialist ideas and technologies tend to circle back to the metropole, and where the periphery appears to be the future of the center, the Global South has much to teach LPE about law, capitalism, and development.
Under capitalism, the social domination of nature occurs through and is mediated by the commodity form. Certain portions of non-human nature can be valued, but only when they are transformed into commodities in the course of the capitalist production process. Other portions are not even commodifiable; the biological and physical processes subtending our existence are largely illegible to capitalist subjects qua capitalist subjects, and so are ignored or disdained even as they collapse.
While capitalism is typically said to commodify everything, much of what makes up our world isn’t commodified at all. It instead appears as a free gift: a social form that describes the condition of usefulness lacking value. The idea of the free gift can give us a deeper understanding of the environmental problems that plague contemporary capitalism. It can also help us better understand capitalism itself.
