The Baldy Center Blog

Keywords: Tariffs, IEEPA, Reciprocal Tariffs, Commerce, Supreme Court, Litigation, Presidential Authority, Trade

The Baldy Center Blog Post 56
Blog Author: Meredith Kolsky Lewis, Professor of Law; Vice Dean for International and Graduate Programs; Director of the Cross-Border Legal Studies Center
Post Title: The Legality of President Trump’s Liberation Day Tariffs

Tariff. A word that has become ubiquitous over the past few years yet remains mysterious to many. Perhaps you had a fleeting familiarity with the word from Ferris Bueller’s droning teacher (“Anyone? Anyone?”) trying to elicit from the class that a cause of significant US inflation and a contributor to the Great Depression was the disastrous Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of 1930. But by and large even as the US has participated in, removed itself from, and completed various free trade agreement negotiations in recent years, tariffs – the removal of which is a defining feature of such negotiations – have rarely bubbled up to the general public’s notice. In President Trump’s second term, however, the word “tariff” seems to be in the news constantly – even as a verb (which while technically grammatically acceptable is not a usage I had ever seen or heard until recently, notwithstanding having taught, written and read about tariffs for over twenty years).

Why all the sudden attention? President Trump has imposed tariffs in 2025 by using an authority – the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) – that has never before been invoked by a President to impose tariffs – and arguably does not authorize the President to do so. The President can only take action pursuant to IEEPA by, among other things, first declaring a national emergency and conferring with Congress. He can then:

Investigate, block during the pendency of an investigation, regulate, direct and compel, nullify, void, prevent or prohibit, any acquisition, holding, withholding, use, transfer, withdrawal, transportation, importation or exportation of, or dealing in, or exercising any right, power, or privilege with respect to, or transactions involving, any property in which any foreign country or a national thereof has any interest by any person, or with respect to any property, subject to the jurisdiction of the United States. (50 U.S.C. 1702(a)(1)(B)).

President Trump has imposed tariffs pursuant to IEEPA in two different contexts. First, shortly after retaking office, he declared national emergencies tied to fentanyl crossing the Northern and Southern US borders and invoked IEEPA as authority to impose tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China in association with the stated fentanyl emergencies. Second, in April, the President declared a national emergency relating to the US’s persistent trade deficits (in the aggregate, the US imports in more goods from other countries than it exports out). In connection with the latter, President Trump imposed “reciprocal tariffs” on over fifty countries on the basis, amongst other things, that such countries purportedly charge the US higher average tariffs than the US charges them.

The IEEPA tariffs quickly led to dozens of legal challenges in U.S. courts. Most have been stayed (put on hold) while two separate cases are being litigated: one brought by a group of small businesses, and another by 12 State Attorneys General. The former case, Trump v. V.O.S. Selections, challenges the reciprocal tariffs and the latter, Learning Resources v. Trump, challenges both the reciprocal and the fentanyl tariffs. The two cases are now before the US Supreme Court following lower court rulings finding for the challengers. The Supreme Court consolidated these cases for purposes of briefing and oral argument. In addition to receiving briefs from the parties, 44 amicus curiae filed briefs, with 36 in support of the challengers, seven in support of the government, and one supporting neither side. The amici siding with the challengers include both liberal and conservative interest groups.

I am currently writing a book chapter on the United States’ use of unilateral trade measures and have been following the litigation closely. The parties and amici have raised numerous grounds for challenging the IEEPA tariffs, more than can be discussed here. However, of particular note is the fact that the Constitution grants the power to levy tariffs to Congress, not the President. While Congress has delegated some of its Commerce powers to the President through numerous pieces of legislation, the relevant language of IEEPA does not use the word “tariff”, nor any similar wording such as “levy”, “duty” or “tax”. In addition, in statutory provisions in which Congress has delegated authority to the President using words such as duties, tariffs or levies, it has included various precursor requirements such as agency determinations made according to stated investigatory procedures with published notice and comment opportunities. Within this context, two doctrines have emerged, inter alia, to the challengers’ arguments: the major questions doctrine and the nondelegation doctrine.

The challengers argue that the Court’s “major questions” doctrine calls for interpreting IEEPA with an expectation that if Congress wished to delegate to the President largely unfettered power to raise revenue, it would have said so clearly. In the words of the late Justice Scalia, “Congress does not … hide elephants in mouseholes” (Whitman v. American Trucking Associations, Inc., 531, U.S. 457, 468 (2001). 

Similarly, the challengers have invoked the nondelegation doctrine requirement that through its legislative authorizing of an executive agency or the President to use Congress’s commerce power, Congress must set forth “an intelligible principle” to which the grantee of the authority must adhere. While this test has only rarely been applied to find an impermissible delegation of Congressional power, the challengers point out that if IEEPA is to be read to include the power to impose tariffs, the statute contains none of the prerequisites of agency investigations, factfinding, public notice and comment, and limited durations and/or magnitude of such tariffs that appear in statutes in which Congress has used commerce power vocabulary such as “tariffs” or “taxes”.

During the Supreme Court’s nearly three-hour oral argument, the above points seemed to resonate with at least Justices Kagan, Sotomayor and Jackson, with Justice Gorsuch also asking Solicitor General Sauer difficult questions. Justice Barrett also pressed the Solicitor General on the wording of IEEPA and its notable lack of revenue-raising terms.

In support of the IEEPA tariffs, Solicitor General Sauer argued that the above doctrines apply with lesser effect in the context of foreign affairs, and that the IEEPA provides broad powers that should be read to encompass tariffs. Justice Kavanaugh seemed sympathetic to the latter argument, finding it incongruous that Congress intended for the President to be permitted to stop trade altogether under IEEPA but not to be able to impose even a one percent tariff. Sauer had a more difficult time gaining traction with his subsidiary argument that the IEEPA tariffs were not actually “revenue tariffs” because they were intended to apply pressure on trading partners to make deals, not to actually raise revenue. Although the Justices did not mention President Trump’s own rhetoric, one wonders whether they will be dubious of this argument given the President’s statements regarding the amount of money the tariffs will bring into the US Treasury.

Justices Alito, Kavanaugh and Thomas appeared the most sympathetic to the President, and Justices Kagan, Sotomayor and Jackson the most receptive to the challengers’ arguments, with Gorsuch also seemingly leaning in the same direction. Justices Roberts and Barrett were harder to read, asking difficult questions of both sides, though both seemed concerned about the inability of Congress to repeal IEEPA, such that if the Court finds the power exists, Congress likely will be unable to undo it. While most news about the oral arguments signaled skepticism and suggested that the Court would overturn the tariffs, I could see the Court tipping either way.

While the outcome remains to be seen, two things are clear. First, if the Court upholds the tariffs, it will represent an unprecedented – and in my view unwise – blank check for the President to impose tariffs with no meaningful guardrails. Second, if the IEEPA tariffs are struck down, President Trump will almost certainly employ other tools at his disposal to impose other tariffs and continue to pressure other countries to negotiate deals to avoid such levies. Furthermore, although a decision striking down the tariffs would require the government to refund payments, it will likely make the process for seeking refunds slow and difficult – e.g. by requiring substantial documentation. Thus, going forward, consumers are unlikely to see lower prices across the board, and importers may still find their inputs facing tariffs, albeit under different legislative authority.

The Baldy Center Blog Post 55
Blog Author: Claudia B. Villegas Ramos, LLM candidate
Post Title: Reframing the Haitian Revolution: Carl Wilén’s Middle-Ground Approach

On October 3, 2025, The Baldy Center welcomed Dr. Carl Wilén from Lund University for a distinguished lecture on “The Haitian Revolution and the Concept of the Legal Form: Capitalism, Slavery, and the Universality Paradigm.” Wilén, a postdoctoral researcher in Human Rights studies at Université Paris Nanterre and affiliated with Sophiapol (Sociologie, Philosophie et Anthropologie Politique), brings a rich background in Marxist and non-Marxist critiques of rights, revolution theory, and social movements. His presentation examined longstanding debates around the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804), offering nuanced insights into the interplay between law, labor, and structural inequality.

Wilén began by framing the central methodological tension shaping scholarship on the Haitian Revolution: the divide between philosophical approaches, which emphasize universal concepts like human rights and democracy, and empirically oriented social historians, who focus on the lived realities of the enslaved population through archival evidence. He stressed that this is not merely an academic debate; it shapes how contemporary scholars and policymakers understand revolutions, social justice, and the foundations of legal systems in postcolonial contexts. Wilén advocated for a careful balancing method, acknowledging the strengths and weaknesses of both approaches.

A central contribution of the lecture was Wilén’s introduction of “movement texts”, like publicly declared documents, proclamations, and communications produced by revolutionary leaders and accessible to the broader movement. These texts, he argued, allow scholars to analyze collective identities, the negotiation of ideological and practical goals, and the relationships between leaders and participants, even when literacy rates were low. Movement texts reveal more than elite intentions; they illuminate how the enslaved population engaged with revolutionary demands, shaping the movement’s trajectory.

Wilén positioned his work as a middle-ground framework, a bridge between philosophical and historical traditions. Philosophers often construct universalist narratives without deeply engaging archival sources, while social historians meticulously catalog diaries, newspapers, and eyewitness accounts without theorizing ideological coherence. Wilén integrates social movement theory with selective archival material, tracing both ideas and actions in the Haitian Revolution while situating them in structural, legal, and economic contexts.

He acknowledged critiques that privileging movement texts might obscure the broader desires of the enslaved majority, many of whom sought practical improvements such as freedom to cultivate land or reduced labor obligations rather than abstract ideological goals. However, Wilén emphasized that other sources, such as diaries, statistics, and newspapers, remain vital but should be interpreted in relation to texts structuring collective action. This method provides a richer understanding of revolutionary dynamics, avoiding extremes of individualistic reductionism or purely structuralist analysis.

This method is consistent with the work of Evgeny Pashukanis, a Marxist legal theorist. Wilén uses Pashukanis as a foundational reframing that allows a productive middle-ground synthesis that meaningfully incorporates both historical evidence and theoretical rigor.

Towards the end of the session, scholars questioned whether privileging movement texts risks centering elite voices. Wilén clarified that these texts are inherently relational, reflecting interactions with the revolutionary base and offering insight into collective agency. He illustrated this with the August 1791 planned attack on Saint-Domingue’s northern colonial capital, showing how strategic actions intersected with ideological aims to challenge the colonial economic system.

Wilén also highlighted the contemporary relevance of this approach. Understanding the Haitian Revolution as a complex social movement has implications for modern social policy and activism. He emphasized the importance of balancing ideological commitments with practical constraints when forming coalitions or organizing collective action. The overarching takeaway is that revolutions, historical or modern, are neither purely structural nor purely individual, they emerge through the interaction of people, ideas, and conditions.

For scholars of law, social policy, and human rights, Wilén underscored that legal forms and rights frameworks cannot be divorced from historical, social, and material contexts. The Haitian Revolution demonstrates how enslaved populations not only resisted oppression but actively negotiated the meaning of freedom, justice, and social order. By privileging movement texts within a middle-ground framework, researchers can better understand the interplay of law, ideology, and social mobilization, offering insights relevant to contemporary debates on inequality, human rights, and governance.

In conclusion, Dr. Wilén’s lecture offered a masterful integration of theory, history, and methodology. It challenged us to rethink established paradigms, demonstrating that revolutions are neither purely top-down nor bottom-up, and that understanding their legal and social dimensions requires both careful archival study and critical theoretical reflection. For anyone interested in law, social policy, or the ongoing legacies of slavery and colonialism, the lecture offered a compelling reminder that history, law, and collective action are inextricably intertwined.

> Carl Wilén: Lund University Research Portal

> Carl Wilén: Lund University Faculty Profile

The Baldy Center Blog Post 54 
Blog Author: Claudia B. Villegas Ramos, LLM candidate
Post Title: Work at the Center of a Socio-Ecological Just Transition

On September 26, 2025, The Baldy Center hosted Dr. Dario Azzellini from the University of Duisburg-Essen for a thought-provoking talk on "Sustainability and socio-ecological transformation: Why put work at the center of a Just Transition." A sociologist and political scientist with dual PhDs from Frankfurt and Puebla, Azzellini has spent years studying labor, workers and local self-management, and social movements in Latin America and Europe. His research focuses on how workers and unions can actively shape the shift toward ecological and social sustainability rather than being left behind by it.

Azzellini opened by highlighting a sobering reality: despite decades of climate agreements, from Kyoto in 1997 to Paris in 2015, global emissions have continued to rise, increasing by more than 50 percent since 1990. As he notes, governments have relied on technological measures, recycling efforts, and market approaches that fail to address the root of the problem. Industries like construction and manufacturing remain among the biggest polluters, while the global economy runs on the logic of endless growth.

He pointed out that this failure is deeply tied to inequality. “We’re not all in the same boat,” he said. The Global North, the wealthiest ten percent of the world’s population, produces nearly half of all carbon emissions, while the Global South, the bottom half, contributes barely a tenth, meaning that those least responsible are suffering the most. As he explains, climate change is not just an environmental crisis; it’s a social and political one. Tackling it requires confronting the structures that allow both inequality and ecological destruction to persist.

From there, Azzellini emphasized the need to put work at the center of any meaningful transition. Work is how humans shape nature, but it also drives inequality and environmental harm. Workers in energy, extractive, and industrial sectors are on the front lines of both pollution and job insecurity. Current climate strategies are too slow and often unjust, reshaping economies in ways that increase precarity rather than reduce it.

He argued that sustainable work must be more than just “green jobs.” A genuinely sustainable job should be viable twenty years from now, under similar social and ecological conditions. Most jobs today fall short. True sustainability must balance economic stability, social fairness, and ecological responsibility, while also recognize unpaid labor and address gender, racial, and global inequalities, he remarks.

Political obstacles make the transition even more complex. Azzellini noted the resurgence of fossil, fuel politics in countries like the United States and the backlash against electric vehicles as examples of how entrenched interests can slow progress. Still, he remained cautiously optimistic: global markets, especially in China, are already shifting toward clean mobility, which will eventually compel broader changes. Nevertheless, these political delays could cost us five to ten critical years.

Labor movements face their own challenges. In Colombia, Azzellini’s research shows that some workers’ unions are beginning to embrace a just transition, forming alliances with Indigenous and environmental organizations. Yet many unions, especially outside the energy sector, have barely begun internal discussions about climate issues. Health and education unions, for example, have yet to integrate ecological concerns into their agendas. By contrast, energy and mining unions are taking the lead, creating training programs, running seminars, and negotiating sector-wide agreements.

Europe presents a similar story. Some German unions support just transition in principle but often prioritize industrial interests over broader ecological goals. Meanwhile, a public service union collaborates with social movements to ensure that workers and communities have a direct say in how the transport sector transitions from fossil fuels to low-carbon, sustainable alternatives. These collaborations between labor and grassroots movements may signal a new, more effective approach to climate politics.

For real change, Azzellini argued, unions must join forces with social movements to push structural transformation. Resources should be directed toward welfare, education, and climate adaptation. Recent worker and student mobilizations show that the public is ready to challenge weak political responses and narrow corporate solutions, indicating a rising wave of community-driven pressure.

In closing, Azzellini left attendees with a clear message: the ecological crisis is inseparable from questions of work, justice, and democracy. Ignoring labor in the pursuit of environmental goals risks deepening social inequalities and losing valuable expertise leading to the continuity of the problem. Conversely, centering workers in policy design and organizational innovation can create a more equitable and sustainable future. 

By placing labor at the heart of ecological transformation, Azzellini’s work urges us to see workers not as obstacles to sustainability but as vital collaborators in building a greener, fairer world. As communities, policymakers, and scholars seek solutions to the climate crisis, his insights remind us that social justice and participatory environmental governance are most effective when they advance together.

> Dario Azzellini:  ResearchGate.

> Dario Azzellini:  Personal website.

The Baldy Center Blog Post 53
Blog Author: Mekonnen Ayano, Associate Professor of Law
Post Title: "Politics, Tradition, and Practice of Law and Rural Development: Observations from Fieldwork"

Field observations in Ethiopia’s law and rural development context suggest that the new “customary” courts are less a revival of tradition than a response to the failures of bureaucratic legality.

I returned to Ethiopia this past summer, supported by a grant from UB’s Office of International Education, to continue fieldwork for a research project on the intersections of law and rural development. My research examines how law works in practice, and how the lived realities of law differ from the abstract promises found in statutes, codes, policy papers, and donor reports.

This time, what caught my attention was Ethiopia’s new customary courts.

Ethiopia has moved through more political and economic experiments in a few decades than many countries experience in a century. The military (socialist) government that ousted Haile Selassie’s monarchy in 1974 collapsed in 1991, followed by the "Washington Consensus” structural adjustment programs that promised economic growth, industrialization, peace, and prosperity. However, as in many “post-socialist” societies, those promises remain largely unfulfilled, leaving the country caught between the drive for legal standardization and the persistence of local variation.

Post–Cold War liberalism offered a simple formula for countries like Ethiopia: staff an independent judiciary with neutral, professional judges, write rules that are simple but detailed, and stability and prosperity would follow through entrepreneurship and market exchanges. It is an intellectually compelling image. But anyone who works on law and development knows that the real world rarely cooperates with such abstractions.

This gap has become visible in Ethiopia’s recent experiment with customary courts. Two years ago, Ethiopia’s Oromia region created a vast network of customary courts, more than 7,000 of them. Other regions soon copied the experience, giving the initiative a national reach. On the surface, the initiative was framed as a revival of indigenous tradition, a return to values of communalism, spirituality, and moral order.

A closer look, however, tells a different story. These courts were not born from local communities, village elders, or popular demand. They were conceived and designed by judicial specialists within the judiciary of Oromia. Facing a judiciary overwhelmed by dockets that grew by 15 percent each year, and a public increasingly skeptical of judges accused of corruption or incompetence, the legal experts sought a solution. Political officials, meanwhile, worried about unrest and saw in the customary courts a means to restore confidence and stability.

Customary court judges are called Abba Gada, borrowing a title from the Oromo’s traditional Gada system. Gada once organized society through rotating leadership, age-sets (cohort groups that advance together through stages of social and political responsibility), and elaborate governance norms. By invoking it, the new courts gained cultural and moral legitimacy far beyond their bureaucratic origins.

Customary court judges are unpaid and elected by community members. They are expected to be elected from among those regarded as wealthy, wise, and trustworthy. Their authority rests on reputation and moral standing rather than professional training. This stands in stark contrast to salaried state judges, often seen as distant from everyday life.

The philosophy of customary courts diverges sharply from that of formal courts. Their jurisdiction is limited to civil matters without any pecuniary limit, making them entirely different from the familiar small claims courts. Typical disputes before them involve land, contract, labor, and family, except for the decision of divorce. Procedural formality is minimal. Cases may be filed orally, and witnesses are not permitted. Instead, truth is sought through ritual ordeals that blend belief and conscience. Disputants may be asked to swear before spiritual authorities or symbols that signify the risk of cosmic punishment if they lie. This is not evidence in the modern legal sense; it is a moral and psychological process designed to compel honesty. To some, this is unsettling; to others, it is accessible because no paperwork and fees are required. Lawyers are not allowed to practice in these courts, formal law is inapplicable, and there is no uniform customary law on which the courts rely to decide disputes.

The customary courts occupy different meanings in different domains. In politics, they are celebrated as a cultural revival that promises to restore national authenticity and order. Officials praise them as a corrective to the moral decline of modernity and an antidote to local tensions. Within the judiciary, they are viewed as a pragmatic fix, relieving crushing caseloads and calming critics. In communities, they are both accessible and coercive, sites where justice is immediate but where the ritual search for truth can be psychologically intense.

This layered reality shows how a single institution can mean very different things depending on where you stand.

Ethiopia’s customary courts may have lightened the load of formal courts, satisfied politicians’ desires, and delivered accessible justice to citizens. In Oromia alone, the new customary courts have decided nearly half a million cases, easing the pressure on formal courts.  However, because they rely on rituals and unpaid judges whose authority derives from community respect, not professional training, questions arise about the sustainability of the design.

These courts also capture the paradox of law in Ethiopia. They are modern institutions that survive because they wrap themselves in the language of tradition. They illustrate how new forms of legality emerge at the intersection of state crisis, political anxiety, and cultural imaginations.

Ethiopia’s experience raises bigger questions. What is a judiciary for, technical neutrality, or local social peace? The two goals may not always align well. Can a court invented by judicial experts and cloaked in the language of tradition truly be called customary? And what does this tell us about the limits of transplanting liberal legal models into societies with different social realities? And how does it align with the broader program of standardizing the local variations in property and contract relations in the interest of a free market and economic development?

In the end, the initiative seems less about reviving custom or tradition than about restoring a sense of equity amid the abuse, opportunism, and discontent that pervade the formal bureaucratic legality promoted by Western donors and international development lenders.

The Baldy Center Blog Post 52 
Blog Author: Claudia B. Villegas Ramos, LLM candidate
Blog Title: Sovereignty and Indigenous Law through the lens of Social Dominance Theory

What if federal Indian law is not failing, but operating precisely as intended? That was the central argument of Michalyn Steele’s recent talk, “Social Dominance Theory and the Supreme Court’s Federal Indian Law Jurisprudence,” presented on September 19, 2025, as part of The Baldy Center for Law and Social Policy’s Distinguished Speaker Series.

Steele, a citizen of the Seneca Nation of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy and a leading scholar in Federal Indian Law, studies jurisprudence through the lens of Social Dominance Theory, a framework that proposes that institutions do not merely reflect social hierarchies but actively create and maintain them. Applied to federal Indian case law, Steele argued, this theory reveals a consistent pattern: rather than protecting tribal sovereignty, U.S. law often reinforces white dominance, all under the appearance of constitutional neutrality.

In this view, Indigenous nations have survived not because of federal law, but in resistance to it. Even in Supreme Court decisions that are overall detrimental to tribal interests, Native advocates have had to search for small, strategic victories. This dynamic reflects a larger theme in Indigenous survival, one that relies on adaptation, and on strategic legal reinterpretation. But it also raises a deeper question: can justice for Indigenous peoples truly be built with tools designed for their domination?

Steele emphasized that tribal sovereignty is a political, not racial, construct and must be recognized as such to safeguard tribal authority. She criticized the continued reliance on blood quantum requirements and Certificates of Degree of Indian Blood (CDIB), which she argued reduce Indigenous identity to racial categories while undermining their sovereignty. While the federal government may rely on such criteria, Steele noted that tribal membership is fundamentally a matter of political status determined by the tribe itself. She warned that framing Indigenous identity in racial terms opens the door to legal challenges that could erode tribal sovereignty.

She also offered a broader Indigenous perspective on sovereignty, one rooted in responsibility rather than domination. In many Native languages, the closest term to "sovereignty" suggests accountability to the community and to future generations. Tribal leaders often invoke sovereignty as a right to self-governance, not as an absolutist power, she explained. Still, the term bears the weight of colonial legacy in U.S. law. Justice Clarence Thomas, for instance, consistently argues that tribes are not sovereign in any meaningful constitutional sense, asserting that any such status was extinguished through conquest. In this view, sovereignty is binary. Tribes either have it, or they do not.

Indigenous legal advocates, however, often take a more nuanced position. Tribes may not have full sovereignty as recognized under international law; they may exercise internal jurisdiction but lack external recognition. Thus, this model still operates within a legal system fundamentally structured to limit Indigenous autonomy.

The more fundamental critique, which Steele alluded to, is whether the legal concept of sovereignty, imposed and inherited by U.S. law, can truly serve Indigenous autonomy ends. Is it possible to use a system built on colonial dominance to achieve justice for Indigenous nations?

She pointed to McGirt v. Oklahoma, 591 U.S. 894 (2020) as a case that illustrates the complexity of this dynamic. In McGirt, the Supreme Court affirmed that the Muscogee (Creek) Nation’s reservation still legally exists, rejecting a century of state and federal assumptions that it had been disestablished. Justice Gorsuch’s opinion focused strictly on statutory language, rejecting arguments based on the racial or demographic composition of the region. While the decision was a legal win for tribes, Steele cautioned that it remains fragile and subject to changes in judicial philosophy and political climate.

Reflecting on older precedents such as Johnson v. McIntosh, 21 U.S. 543 (1823), Steele offered a nuanced view. While Johnson denied tribes full ownership of their lands, it may have unintentionally helped some tribes retain territory. Wherever Native land became fully alienable, especially during the allotment era, it was often lost entirely. In contrast, tribes that were restrained from selling their land, due to restrictive ownership rulings, have more often maintained cultural and political continuity.

Steele uses this paradox to make a larger point: survival alone is not justice. The fact that some tribes endured through these contradictions should not be seen as a success of the system but as a testament to Indigenous resilience in spite of it. While some oppressive rulings have accidentally helped tribes survive, the system itself was never intended to protect or support true Indigenous sovereignty.

Ultimately, Steele’s presentation revealed the limitations of working within a legal system built to contain, rather than empower, Indigenous nations. Survival has been achieved, but at great cost. The challenge now is not merely to survive, but to envision forms of governance, justice, and community that transcend colonial legal logic. As Steele reminded the audience, the embers of sovereignty still burn, but to ignite a lasting change, they need to be fueled by Indigenous traditions, values, and self-determined visions for the future.

Claudia B. Villegas Ramos is studying the Master of Laws (LLM) Cross-Border program at the University at Buffalo School of Law. A graduate of the Autonomous University of Juárez City and a dedicated attorney in Mexico, she has passionately worked for gender equality, human rights, public policy, and social justice across governmental institutions, non-profits, and the private practice.

Villegas Ramos holds a Master’s in Social Sciences with a focus on Public Policy and Political Studies. Her dissertation examined territorial conflicts between an indigenous community and the government in her hometown, which she presented at the Latin American Council of Social Sciences within the “Rights, Classes, and Reconfiguration of Capital” working group. Villegas Ramos' academic journey spans the globe, with studies at prestigious institutions such as the Harvard Kennedy School for Government, the National Autonomous University of Mexico, the University of Seville in Spain, the University of Quilmes in Argentina, and the Greater University of Saint Andres in Bolivia.

Fluent in English and Spanish, with conversational French and knowledge of Italian and Portuguese, Villegas Ramos brings a rich linguistic and cultural perspective to her work. In the US she has worked in removal defense, particularly for asylum seekers, and she was granted accreditation by the Department of Justice to represent clients in immigration relief applications with Citizenship and Immigration Services. Upon completing her LLM, Villegas Ramos plans to sit for the bar exam and seek licensure to practice law in the US.