The Odd Couple of Philosophy and Law
Philosophy and the law are like two frenemies for life, frustrating and enriching each other on every turn. Philosophy will never stop asking questions to which there can be no good answers: What is justice? What does it mean to live a good life? Is my neighbor's Wi-Fi password a natural right? The law would then take these high-sounding ideas and reduce them to some sort of actionable rules, often coming out as zoning regulations or the corporate tax code or a fine for parking too close to the fire hydrant. Varied as they may be, both these disciplines have constructed human civilization: structures that govern conflict, protect rights, and at times hilarity.
Basically, philosophy is the dreamer-obsessed with fundamental truths in life and with questions as to what human lives could optimally become-only turned to concrete answers as to how life should go on. In sharp contrast, the law really tries to offer some firm answers necessary to govern society. Variously interpreted and put together by humans to govern themselves and realize justice, sometimes their joint presence is less harmonious.
As society evolves, so do the challenges which philosophy and the law must both address. Emerging issues such as artificial intelligence, environmental justice, and digital privacy force these age-old disciplines to rethink their role and relevance. This essay discusses their intertwined histories, their influence upon contemporary debates, and their role in the solving of the dilemmas of the modern age.
Section 1: The Historical Odd Couple
Philosophy and the law have been intertwined since the earliest days of civilization, and the relationship has always been complex. Philosophy is the idealist, dreaming up notions of justice and fairness that sound great on paper but are notoriously hard to implement. Law's ever-pragmatic streak molds these ideas into enforceable rules, which often miss the mark on the original intent.
To understand how these disciplines developed their love-hate dynamic, let's travel back to their roots and explore the contributions of Plato, Hobbes, and Locke.
Plato and the Philosopher-Kings: Idealism taken to its Extremes
Plato's The Republic is often considered one of the foundational texts for both philosophy and political theory. Plato there puts forward the view that the good society would be ruled by philosopher-kings: rulers guided by wisdom, virtue, and an unwavering commitment to justice. His vision was founded on the conviction that only those who truly understand the nature of goodness are fitted to rule.
For Plato, justice was a matter of harmony: everyone in society had to fulfill their proper role. Farmers farm, warriors defend, and rulers rule-not out of power or ambition but because it is their natural function. This is as poetic as it is impractical. In practice, the idea of philosopher-kings ruling society is like appointing academic theorists to run tech startups-expect grandiose visions but little in the way of functional results.
It is fair to say that Plato's theory of justice represents the backbone behind many a legal system in these modern times, when such systems do pretend to emulate some higher order of moral principles. In any case, his disdain for democracy makes it difficult to embrace him any more warmly than we do now. Plato was deeply critical of democracy, as he viewed the system as perilous, where decision-making was ultimately in the hands of unlettered commons and more often than not in the hands of rabble-rousers. If Plato were alive today, he'd probably say that "the cave" is the one called Twitter, and that we have managed to mistake retweets for truth.
Impracticable it may be, but Plato's influence does not lie buried. Inherited in the theory of justice, whereby powers are separated into distinct branches of government with their appropriate functions to maintain society's integrity, is a shade of his idealism. Yet his high idealism also is a pointer to how far philosophy and the law are apart: where philosophy can dream of an ideal society, the law has to deal with human fallibility.
Hobbes and Leviathan: Fear as a Foundation
If Plato was the dreamer, Hobbes was the realist-or, perhaps, the pessimist. Writing amidst the tumult of the English Civil War, Hobbes viewed human nature as essentially selfish and combative. In his monumental work Leviathan, Hobbes contended that, without a strong, centralized authority, life would be "nasty, brutish, and short." His solution? The social contract: individuals surrender certain freedoms to a sovereign authority in exchange for security and order.
Hobbes's vision of the Leviathan-a near-omnipotent state capable of enforcing laws and maintaining peace-laid the groundwork for modern legal systems. His ideas about the necessity of state power continue to inform debates about policing, national security, and the limits of governmental authority.
There is considerable irony to Hobbes' philosophy, however. While advocating strong central authority as a bulwark against chaos, the modern bureaucracies that have resulted can sometimes feel more akin to the very chaos he wished to avoid. Imagine Hobbes at a city council meeting, watching local officials debate zoning ordinances for three hours. His Leviathan might look more like an overworked committee than a fearsome ruler.
Yet another critical modern limit of application is the Hobbesian emphasis on the social contract. The readiness with which people would supposedly relinquish freedoms for order seems almost naively innocently assumed from today's perspective amid the debates around COVID-19 vaccine mandates, debates over data privacy, and the freedom of speech. It is here that this balance of the law, which weights Hobbesian order against freedom for the individual-the mainspring of the liberal democracies-all too often leaves everyone dissatisfied in some sort of balancing act.
Locke: Rights, Property, and Legal Complexity
John Locke is sometimes thought of as the father of liberalism and brought into the philosophy-law relationship a much more optimistic view. Locke did believe in natural rights: life, liberty, and property. Unlike Hobbes, who believed that government was a necessary evil to simply keep us from descendance into chaos, Locke saw it as a protector of these inherent rights.
Locke's theory of property written in his Second Treatise is that one owns what he creates by his work; the bedrock of modern property law and the modern version of capitalism. His ideas influenced documents on revolution like the U.S. Declaration of Independence and have kept debates on questions of ownership and rights alive. However, Locke's theory also opens up Pandora's box as far as many complicated legal challenges related to the present are concerned.
Take intellectual property. If Locke's theory holds that you own what you create, then memes, tweets, and TikTok videos should belong to their creators. But in practice, platforms like Twitter and Instagram regularly claim ownership through terms of service agreements. Locke never envisioned a world where the products of your labor could be monetized by a corporation simply because you clicked "I agree. We find the influence of Locke well beyond property. His ideas of consent and the role of government underpin constitutional democracies and human rights law. However, his emphasis on individualism sometimes clashes with the needs of groups, as illustrated by controversies over environmental regulations, zoning laws, and taxation. While applauded for idealism, Locke's philosophy, in practice, has often left courts wrestling over contradictions.
The Historical Odd Couple in Action
Plato, Hobbes, and Locke each gave us foundational ideas that continue to shape our legal systems today. Plato gave us the dream of justice as a higher ideal, Hobbes reminded us of the necessity of order, and Locke championed individual rights and property. Their combined philosophies provide the intellectual scaffolding of modern governance.
And yet, their ideas also betray the tension between philosophy and the law. Philosophy can articulate the big questions and high ideals, but it's the law that has to sort out the messy realities of how those ideals get implemented. From ancient arguments about the nature of justice to modern debates over data privacy and climate change, history's odd couple remains as relevant-and as exasperating-as ever.
Section 2: Why Philosophy Still Matters in Law
Philosophy has long been maligned as an impractical pursuit-a discipline enamored of questions rather than its answers. Meanwhile, the law is obsessed with the answers themselves, even if the answers are unsatisfactory or broadly loathed. It's in new legal disciplines, however, like AI, environmental justice, and digital privacy that philosophy increasingly proves relevant. Modern predicaments demand a range of ethical thinking and moral reasoning within complexity. Herein, the finest traditions of contemporary philosophers become truly handy.
As much as the law would like to shake off philosophy as an annoying partner, it finds itself leaning on its insights more than ever.
Philosophy Meets the Machine: Artificial Intelligence
The rise of artificial intelligence has launched philosophers and lawyers into new dimensions. Questions that once were the preserve of philosophy alone—What is an action? Who causes an injury? Can a non-human have rights?—are now pressing questions of law.
The Problem of Agency
AI challenges traditional notions of agency and accountability. Aristotle argued that moral responsibility requires intent; without intention, there can be no culpability. That was fine when tools were passive-you don't blame a hammer for hitting your thumb; you blame the person wielding it-but what happens when the "hammer" is an autonomous vehicle that makes its own decisions? Who is liable when it swerves into a tree to avoid a pedestrian?
The modern legal systems agonize over the question of whether to think of AI as a tool-as hammer-or an agent-as employee. If we begin to think of AI as agents, do we then grant them rights and responsibilities? If so, how would we enforce those? Suing your chatbot for libel sounds completely ridiculous-until you realize that some lawsuits have already begun skirting the boundary.
Ethics of Kant and AI
Kant's categorical imperative - act according to principles you wish to become universal laws - has been advanced as a framework for AI ethics. In other words, to program AI so that it will prioritize actions that preserve human dignity and life. Sounds simple? Enter the infamous trolley problem.
Should a driverless car protect its occupants at all costs, even if it means mowing down pedestrians? Or should it sacrifice its occupants to save a greater number? These moral dilemmas aren't just theoretical; they're real scenarios that programmers must address. Lawyers, meanwhile, are left to determine liability when no answer satisfies everyone.
Kant would probably insist that AI decisions be based on universal moral principles, but the task of programming morality is monumental. Try to envision writing code for Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics into your home assistant: "Alexa, can you vacuum the living room?" "Only if it is ethical to do so.
Legal Implications
Its legal challenges are only one of many facets: can an AI be held criminally liable, can it own intellectual property, who owns the output of a work of art if it has been created with an AI? In 2023, a court in the US stated that an AI cannot hold a patent, since the laws regarding creativity and awards apply to human individuals only. Still, the more profound philosophical question may be whether something is creative when it lacks the intent for the creation; and does this really matter?
Philosophy provides the conceptual framework for these debates, but they play out in the law. The relationship between philosophy and the law on this subject will only go deeper as AI develops further-although without friction being fully avoided.
Environmental Justice: Rights for Nature
Another area in which philosophy and the law are in this uncomfortable dance is with environmental law. For centuries, Western legal systems have treated nature as property, to be owned, exploited, or regulated. But with environmental crises escalating, courts and legislatures are rethinking humanity's relationship with the natural world.
From Locke to Leopold
We see here that the long-standing influence of Locke's labor theory of property-one that argues ownership derives from labor-cut down a tree, and it's yours-is increasingly challenged by environmental philosophers like Aldo Leopold, who argues for a "land ethic." Leopold's philosophy insists that humans are part of a broader ecological community and must respect the rights of other species and ecosystems.
A deep shift can be observed in those legal experiments that grant rights to nature. In 2008, Ecuador became the first country in the world to grant rights of nature constitutional status. Rivers, forests, and even mountains can sue for damages through legal representatives. New Zealand went one step further in 2017 when it declared the Whanganui River a legal person.
It has taken things a step further by appointing guardians to represent the interests of the river in court, creating a surreally ludicrous image of water being represented by lawyers.
Absurdities of Philosophy
Giving personhood to nature brings questions that might sound like they are out of a Monty Python sketch. Would a mountain be able to file an injunction against mining? Does a river pay taxes? What if two ecosystems sue each other over infringement?
But beneath these humorous battles lie weightier discussions. Philosophers like Arne Næss, the founder of deep ecology, consider granting natural systems intrinsic value as integral in the fight against climate change and loss of biodiversity. Law, however, finds a way to accommodate high ideals with hard economic and political realities. For every indigenous nation granted rights over its ancestral river, there's a corporation somewhere seeking to exploit legal personhood for profit. If a river can sue, then why not a company claiming its "right" to pollute?
Digital Privacy: Who Owns You?
In the time of the digital era, personal information amounts to more than gold; while the legal framework for the same is still getting attuned. Behind this debate is a sound philosophy of ownership, consent, and identity.
Locke's Property Rights Meet Big Tech
Locke's theory of property says you own your data because you create it. Every tweet, every search query, every Instagram post should, in theory, be yours. But the tech companies disagree. When you sign up for their services, you effectively sign away your ownership rights. Locke might have envisioned property as tangible, but in the digital era, even your thoughts-or at least your search history-are up for grabs.
The result has been highly contested lawsuits over data privacy. Who owns your biometric data? Can a company sell your location history without explicit consent? And if your online behavior creates profits, shouldn't you see some?
Foucault and the Surveillance State
The panopticon of Michel Foucault, as a metaphor for society under uninterrupted surveillance, conveys a somewhat prophetic meaning today. The smart devices, social media platforms, and surveillance cameras track our every move. The digital panopticon is one in which the watchers are invisible and omnipresent.
Philosophers like Foucault warn that the panopticon kills individuality and autonomy. The law does try to protect privacy, but in today's world, data is a form of currency. The GDPR in Europe tries to handle these issues, but enforcement remains very difficult. Meanwhile, companies innovate faster than legislators can regulate, creating a never-ending game of ethical and legal catch-up.
The Practical Role of Philosophy in Emerging Legal Challenges
From artificial intelligence to environmental justice, digital privacy, and so many more, philosophy is always relevant to the law. Philosophy supplies the frameworks and ethical underpinning that make such debates possible; the law makes sure such debates culminate in action. The relationship is far from perfect: philosophy often irritated the law with its abstract questions, and the law irritated philosophy with its compromises, but together t hey are tackling with the dilemmas of the 21st-century proof that even the most seemingly unlikely partnerships really can rise to the occasion in their own method.
Section 3: Philosophy as Comedy Gold in Law
Philosophy and the law afford many a somber thought, as befits their weighty preoccupations with justice, morality, and the maintenance of social order. Yet when philosophical abstraction meets the law's imperatives for hard-nosed reality, the results can be hilariously unintended-or sometimes hilariously intended.
From paradoxes that run counter to common sense to legal conundrums that sound like the plot of a sitcom, the interaction between philosophy and the law often leads into absurdity. In this section, we explore how philosophical principles create some of the most comedic-and perplexing-moments in legal practice.
Justice Paradox: When Everyone Is Right and Wrong
Justice underpins all our concepts of law, but the definition has been known to drive many a philosopher to insanity. Plato considered justice to be harmony-a balance where everybody did his job in society. Rawls thought justice was fairness-devising rules as though one didn't know what one's position in society was. Meanwhile, justice for the modern legal system seems to be "whatever the judge says after he's had lunch.
The problem is that philosophical ideals often conflict with legal practicality. Consider, for example, the notion of procedural fairness, where legal procedures are followed to the letter, even if justice seems not to have been done. Mandatory minimum sentencing laws are an excellent example. They are procedurally fair because all offenders are treated alike, yet they often lead to absurd outcomes.
A non-violent drug offender could get harsher sentencing than another convicted of manslaughter because the rules are applied inflexibly.
What philosophers might call a contradiction between justice as equity- treating everybody in accord with their particular circumstances-and justice as equality-treating everybody the same-lawyers more commonly just call an appeal.
The Trolley Problem, Legal Edition
The trolley problem is philosophy's gift to legal absurdity. This variant of a well-worn thought experiment confronts you with having to choose between two morally detestable alternatives: Should one divert a runaway trolley onto a spur and have it kill one person-but save five on the main track? Or does one do nothing and allow the trolley to maim and murder? It is a contrived exercise in intellectual inquiry to tease apart our moral instinct-but it stopped being just theory when the transportation world invented a driverless car that can think, at least fitfully, in its own best interest.
Now, imagine it's a trolley problem for an autonomous car to decide: Veer off into the wall and kill or injure its occupants, or continue on its trajectory and protect its occupants at the expense of pedestrians. Now imagine having to testify to said decision in the court of law. Where lies liability? With the car's manufacturer? With the programmer? The owner? How about the say of the algorithm?
Philosophers like Kant and Mill would approach this dilemma differently. Kant's categorical imperative would demand the car act according to universal moral principles, prioritizing human dignity. Mill's utilitarianism, by contrast, would weigh the consequences, choosing the action that minimizes harm overall. But no matter how the car is programmed, someone will inevitably feel wronged—and they'll likely sue.
That's where the comedy comes in: the theoretical musings of philosophy are ill-suited to the messy world of legal accountability. The court isn't supposed to find the "right" answer to the Trolley Problem; it's supposed to assign blame, preferably to the party with the deepest pockets. In that way, the Trolley Problem has gone from an abstract ethical puzzle to a lucrative area of legal practice.
Personhood and Its Ridiculous Consequences
The modern concept of legal personhood is a keystone in the practice of law, allowing such persons as corporations and governments to sue, be sued, and hold property. But when philosophy begins to ask who — or what — is deserving of personhood, the results can be fascinating and absurd.
Consider legal experiments that grant personhood to nature.
Until 2017, for example, New Zealand accorded the Whanganui River full legal personality with a range of guardians to represent its interests within the court. Stemmed from bold indigenous philosophies, the law considered nature as an agent towards which respect should be granted. Noble intentions, comic implication.
Imagine an argument in court, where the attorney for the river stands up and says, "My client objects to this dam because it's emotionally upsetting.
Of course, corporations have long enjoyed legal personhood, leading to their own absurdities. Such was the landmark case in the United States where, in Citizens United v. FEC, a court ruled that corporations do, in fact, enjoy free speech and, by extension, could spend unlimited sums to influence the outcomes of political campaigns. In so doing, corporations took on a peculiarly paradoxical status: quasi-living, disembodied entities capable of holding enormous sway over human society. The most comic feature of debates over legal personhood is the enormous discrepancies in treatment afforded different entities. A river can have rights, but your dog cannot. A corporation can claim free speech, but you can't yell "Fire!" in a crowded theater. These discrepancies point to a gap between the lofty ideal of philosophy and the law's often ridiculous practice.
Legal Fiction Absurdities
Legal systems depend upon fictions-things that are not literally true but that are treated as if they were in order for the system to function. The fictions often create situations that sound like the beginning of a Monty Python sketch.
Take the concept of corporate personhood. A corporation is legally a "person," but it does not posess a corporeal body, nor consciousness, nor can it drink a cup of coffee.
This fiction puts corporations in the odd position of being treated as persons in some contexts but not in others: A corporation has voted and can commit a crime-in which case it is subject to fines-but it cannot be sent to prison. A corporation can go bankrupt, after which it continues, in a nonphysical sense, under new management. Philosophers might argue these contradictions reflect the inherent absurdity of treating an abstract entity as a moral agent.
Then there is the legal fiction of the "reasonable person." That is a fictitious citizen, used in order to determine whether actions are negligent, ethical, or justified. The reasonable person is supposedly equipped with common sense and good judgment, yet all the time the standard seems hilariously out of touch. Really, would a "reasonable person" read the terms and conditions before clicking "I agree"? The law assumes it, though evidence to the contrary mounts.
These fictions work practically, but they also represent philosophical tensions within the legal system. The law is reliant on these imaginary constructs for smooth operation, and even the most solemn institutions are, at their core, built on a foundation of collective storytelling.
Philosophy and Law: An Absurd Symbiosis
It is not only a question of philosophical inspiration for moral principles or acting guidelines that philosophy can bring to bear in relation to the law, but it's actually supposed to shed light on the silly things that are implicit in every human enterprise aimed at order. From paradoxes of justice, debates of personhood, philosophy uncovers contradiction and humor where ideals meet real life. Law embraces these contradictions, enshrining them as precedents, statutes, and sometimes even punchlines.
But let's face facts: philosophy and the law don't always mix. Yet the tensions are endlessly amusing—and necessary. Without philosophy to raise the difficult questions, society would go without moral direction, just as without the pragmatic responses of the law it would also be deprived of workable governance. Jointly, they navigate the strange, wonderful, and often ridiculous journey that is human civilization.
Conclusion: Philosophy and the Law—An Unlikely Yet Crucial Partnership
Philosophy and the law are the original odd couple, with one dreaming of ideals, the other mired in the reality of it all. Their partnership is tense and humorous, but also indispensable. Philosophy provides the moral and ethical framework for making sense of thorny social issues; the law puts those high-minded principles into actionable rules. Together, they create human civilization—though sometimes their collaboration seems more like a sitcom than a symphony.
The Timeless Relevance of Philosophy to Law
They have oriented philosophy to serve in the development of legal systems down through history. Plato's dream of harmony in justice-enacting, the insistence of Hobbes upon order via the social contract, and Locke's defense of individual rights—a tradition that lives in today's debates about law—just keep coming.
It wasn't so much that these philosophers asked abstract questions as that they outlined an intellectual rationale for governmental structures that continue to mold modern societies in ways both dramatic and subtle. Yet, none of them is static; they are constantly being reinterpreted in light of new challenges. Forced by artificial intelligence, environmental crises, and digital privacy, legal systems have to face dilemmas that philosophers could never have foreseen. Still, these modern issues are deeply connected with age-old philosophical debates about agency, rights, and justice.
AI challenges us to rethink the basis of responsibility and intent. It is in the question of whether non-species subjects call for legal rights, where environmental law puts that burden on us, while digital privacy does with ownership and identity, as these bear on an ever-connecting world. In each case, however, philosophy furnishes us with means through which the question might be set out, while answers will not, certainly, remain inaccessible.
The Practical Imperfections of Law
While philosophy can reach for the universality of truth, the law has to be pragmatic, taking all the messy realities of human behavior into account. It falls to courts and legislatures to try to resolve disputes and maintain order in less-than-perfect conditions; thus, absurdities and contradictions that philosophers love to point out result. The very concept of a legal personhood—for example, very fundamental within corporate and environmental law—entails targets for critical philosophical reassessment. How could such an abstract notion as a corporation hold rights and responsibilities while animals and ecosystems usually do not?
In much the same vein, the so-called "reasonable man" standard in the law of negligence relies upon rationality that exists very seldom in the real world. The incongruity points to limits in how the law can incorporate or articulate such a philosophical ideal.
Not every defect amounts to failure. Here, at any rate, is the strength of the law: it is strong precisely in adaptability. Though it stumbles and trips, it moves onward, changing—continually improving thanks to philosophical grounds that set or delineate its course. The tension of philosophy and law can become a feature and not a flaw—a dynamic pushing towards progress.
The Humor in Their Relationship
As we have seen, the interplay between philosophy and the law is not without its comedic moments. From the absurdities of granting personhood to rivers, the contradictions of corporate rights, to the legal implications of the trolley problem, their partnership often ventures into the realm of the ridiculous.
Yet these moments of humor are more than mere entertainment. They remind us that the pursuit of justice is a human endeavor, marked by trial and error, creativity, and a touch of absurdity. Philosophy and the law may never achieve perfection, but their collaboration reflects humanity's ongoing effort to create a fairer, more equitable world.
Looking Ahead: Philosophy and the Law in the 21st Century
Legal systems will face more complex challenges as we forge ahead into the 21st century. The changing climate, AI, and globalization are carving out a new world that is putting some pretty fundamental questions—one that requires philosophical acuity and innovative thinking in law.
How would individual rights weigh against collective responsibilities? Can the legal system develop for global problems while retaining their local relevance? What is the role of technology in shaping the future of justice?
Philosophy and the law will continue to navigate these questions together, in strife but always in dialogue. Their marriage may not be harmonious, but it is necessary. The idealism of philosophy pushes the law to an aspiration higher than mediocre; the realism of the law keeps ivory tower philosophical debates from being mere exacting arguments of abstractions.
The Legacy of an Unlikely Partnership
Philosophy and the law, after all, are two sides of the same coin. Philosophy raises the big questions: What is justice? What is right? What does it mean to live ethically? The law answers, often imperfectly, that justice is what the court decides, right is what the statute says, and ethical living is whatever keeps you out of jail.
Incessant and even infuriating this can often prove to be, this is where the interplay truly has its greatest opportunity for growth or evolution of the social status. Philosophy gives morality to the laws, while law provides philosophy with the reality that needs to take place. And from a joint perspective, these two strands together form one facet of human civilization: messy and imperfect but noble indeed.
So the next time you're getting worked up over the legal gray areas of modern life, just remember: somewhere, a philosopher is debating what justice means, and a lawyer is working out how to bill for it. And in that instant, the ancient partnership of philosophy and the law keeps chugging along—one absurd, profound, and sometimes hilarious step at a time.
References
Plato, The Republic, translated by Allan Bloom. HarperCollins, 1968.
Hobbes, Thomas, Leviathan, edited by Richard Tuck. Cambridge University Press, 1996.
Locke, John, Two Treatises of Government, edited by Peter Laslett. Cambridge University Press, 1988.
Rawls, John, A Theory of Justice. Harvard University Press, 1971.
Asimov, Isaac, I, Robot. Gnome Press, 1950.
Næss, Arne, Deep Ecology for the 21st Century, edited by George Sessions. Shambhala, 1995.
Leopold, Aldo, A Sand County Almanac. Oxford University Press, 1949.
Foucault, Michel, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, translated by Alan Sheridan. Pantheon Books, 1977.
Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, 558 U.S. 310 (2010).
European Union, General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), 2016/679.
Ecuador’s Constitution, Article 71-74, Rights of Nature, 2008.
New Zealand Parliament, Te Awa Tupua (Whanganui River Claims Settlement) Act, 2017.
United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO), Thaler v. Vidal, Federal Circuit, 2023.
Kant, Immanuel, Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals, translated by Mary Gregor. Cambridge University Press, 1997.
Mill, John Stuart, Utilitarianism, edited by Roger Crisp. Oxford University Press, 1998.
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