Law is a Tool of Power, Not Justice
Terra nullius, Jim Crow, ISDS, and our collective myths of impartiality
For much of my life, I regarded the law not with idealistic naiveté, but with a pragmatic belief that it was a flawed yet necessary mechanism for curbing abuses of power and delivering some semblance of justice. As I engaged more deeply with the world, my belief in the law’s efficacy began to erode—not abruptly, but gradually, over years of observation, study, and personal experience. The law, I came to understand, is far from an impartial arbiter. Rather, it is a tool of control, designed and wielded by those in power to reinforce their dominance. This disillusionment was difficult, almost painful at times, but it was also clarifying. Now, on the other side of that experience, I feel a sense of responsibility: to help others navigate through the same illusions that once held me captive.
The Shattering of Illusion: Law as a Mechanism of Control
My disillusionment did not begin with one decisive moment but unfolded through a series of small cracks in the facade of justice. I noticed instances where the law didn’t operate as I had always assumed it would—moments where justice was conspicuously absent, despite the procedural legitimacy of legal rulings. Initially, I explained these away as aberrations, as failures within an otherwise functional system. But the more I saw, the more I understood that these were not exceptions. They were the rule. The law wasn’t failing—it was functioning exactly as it was intended, just not in the way I had imagined.
Michel Foucault’s exploration of power structures illuminated the law’s role not merely as a system of governance but as a mechanism for managing populations, reinforcing hierarchies, and suppressing dissent. Power, Foucault argued, does not flow merely from the top; it is diffuse, embedded in the very institutions we rely on, including the law. Karl Marx, whose critique of the capitalist state still resonates today, deepened my understanding of how legal frameworks in capitalist societies are primarily designed to protect private property and perpetuate the concentration of wealth. Property laws weren’t designed to foster equity—they were constructed to preserve the wealth of elites, ensuring that power and privilege remained firmly entrenched across generations.
This isn’t just a matter of historical analysis. The law continues to serve this role in modern times. Mechanisms like the Investor-State Dispute Settlement (ISDS) are perfect examples of how contemporary law functions as a protector of power, allowing corporations to sue governments over regulations that prioritize public welfare over corporate profits. Whether it’s Vattenfall’s lawsuit against Germany for phasing out nuclear power or Phillip Morris’s challenge to Australia’s public health measures, these cases reveal that the law often acts not as a guardian of people, but as a bulwark for profit. The law, in this light, isn’t malfunctioning—it’s performing precisely as it was designed to.
Learning #1: The Law Has Never Been Neutral
One of the most difficult lessons I had to internalize was that the law has never been neutral. The comforting narrative that the law stands above politics and power—serving as an impartial force to protect everyone equally—is a fiction. The legal system has always been a tool of power, written by those in power to maintain their control. It’s not designed to challenge the status quo; rather, it exists to preserve it.
This becomes painfully clear when we examine legal systems throughout history. Consider the Jim Crow laws in the United States. These weren’t anomalies or distortions of an otherwise just system—they were the system. The courts, police, and legislators worked together to uphold racial segregation, disenfranchisement, and the systemic oppression of Black Americans. Jim Crow wasn’t a glitch; it was a feature, deliberately designed to maintain racial hierarchies. The law didn’t simply fail Black Americans—it actively participated in their oppression, reinforcing the racial order through legal means.
Learning #2: The Law Protects Power, Not People
The law is frequently portrayed as a tool for righting wrongs, but in practice, it more often serves to protect existing power structures from being challenged. Arbitration clauses that prevent workers from holding corporations accountable, regulatory agencies captured by the industries they are meant to regulate, and international legal mechanisms like ISDS that allow corporations to override democratic decisions all illustrate how the law functions to preserve power.
Chomsky’s critiques of corporate influence within legal systems helped me see this clearly. The law isn’t broken when it fails to protect the vulnerable—it’s working exactly as it was designed. Corporate lobbying and mechanisms like ISDS aren’t unfortunate byproducts of a functioning legal system—they are intrinsic to how power is maintained. When corporations can sue governments for enacting policies that protect people and the environment, it’s evident that the law’s primary function is to safeguard profits, not rights.
This dynamic extends far beyond ISDS. From labor laws that favor employers to intellectual property regimes that restrict access to life-saving medicines, the law operates not as a neutral force but as a defender of elite interests. The legal system doesn’t merely reflect power—it actively reinforces it.
Learning #3: Disillusionment Is Painful but Necessary
Confronting disillusionment is hard. It forces you to let go of comforting illusions and confront a reality that is often harsh and unfair. It’s tempting to retreat into the belief that the law can be fair if only we reform it the right way. But disillusionment is essential if we are to see the world as it really is, not as we wish it to be.
Accepting that the law is not an instrument of justice but a tool of power was difficult. It was disorienting to realize that a system I once believed could deliver justice was instead structured to prevent it. But this disillusionment also opened up new possibilities. It allowed me to think critically about how we might build systems outside of this flawed framework. The legal system, as it currently exists, will never deliver justice because it was never designed to. Disillusionment, therefore, isn’t the end—it’s the beginning of imagining different ways of achieving justice.
Learning #4: Justice Requires Radical Reimagination
The most important lesson I’ve learned is that achieving justice requires radically reimagining what the law could be. The legal system, with its deep ties to power and wealth, cannot be easily reformed. The system isn’t malfunctioning—it’s doing exactly what it was built to do. To pursue justice, we need to stop thinking about how to fix the existing framework and start imagining what a genuinely just system might look like.
Restorative justice offers one possible way forward. It focuses not on punishment but on healing, accountability, and community well-being. Restorative justice recognizes the failures of traditional legal systems—failures that prioritize control over care and punishment over rehabilitation. But this isn’t just about implementing alternative legal models—it’s about questioning the very purpose of law itself. What if the law was designed to repair harm rather than punish wrongdoers? What if it focused on collective well-being rather than protecting individual wealth?
Radical reimagination requires us to confront the deep flaws within the legal system. True justice cannot be achieved by simply tweaking the existing framework—it requires entirely new approaches that prioritize the collective good over the protection of power.
Turning Disillusionment Into Action
This journey has fundamentally reshaped my understanding of law and justice. I no longer believe that minor reforms or surface-level changes will make the legal system more just. The system, as it stands, was never meant to serve everyone. My goal now is to help others navigate their own disillusionment, not to lead them into despair, but to show them that disillusionment can be a catalyst for meaningful change.
We cannot rely on the legal system to save us—it was never built to do so. Instead, we must save ourselves by rejecting the illusion of legal fairness and working together to build something new. This means embracing restorative models, abolishing exploitative mechanisms like ISDS, and prioritizing community-based approaches to justice.
The challenge is enormous, but disillusionment has taught me that even the most entrenched systems of power can be dismantled. It’s time to stop clinging to comforting myths about the law and start imagining what real justice could look like. Only then can we begin to build something new—something that serves all of us, not just those at the top.