The Revolt of the Law Schools: Undermining Australian Sovereignty in Academia, By Ian Wilson LL.B
Australia's law schools, once bastions of rigorous legal training grounded in the rule of law, are increasingly becoming hubs of Leftist ideological activism that challenge the very foundations of Australian sovereignty. As Janet Albrechtsen has incisively argued, a growing number of legal academics reject the finality of Australian law, dismissing authoritative High Court rulings as mere "self-serving attempts" by the so-called "settler state" to entrench its power. This intellectual revolt, cloaked in the guise of scholarship, not only undermines the legal system but also raises serious questions about the role of taxpayer-funded universities in fostering divisive theories that contradict established law. This reflection expands on Albrechtsen's critique, framing it as part of a broader revolt against Western civilisation within academia, driven by postmodern ideologies that prioritise political activism over legal orthodoxy.
The Australian legal system is unequivocal on the question of sovereignty. In the landmark 1979 case Coe v Commonwealth, Justice Harry Gibbs articulated a clear position: "The Aboriginal people are subject to the laws of the Commonwealth and of the States and Territories in which they respectively reside. They have no legislative, executive or judicial organs by which sovereignty might be exercised." This principle has been consistently upheld, notably in the 1993 Coe decision by Chief Justice Anthony Mason and, more recently, in the 2025 NSW Court of Appeal case Nyangbul v State of NSW. In Nyangbul, Griffiths AJA reaffirmed that "the law does not support the idea that sovereignty adverse to the Crown resides in the Aboriginal people of Australia."
These rulings establish that Australia is a single sovereign nation under the Crown, with no competing Indigenous sovereignty recognized in law. The High Court, as the nation's authoritative umpire, has repeatedly rejected claims of Aboriginal sovereignty, whether as a "domestic dependent nation" or an independent entity with self-governing rights. Yet, despite this clarity, a significant cohort of legal academics refuses to accept these rulings, instead framing them as "normative bootstrapping" by a "settler state" to protect its own interests.
At the heart of this revolt are academics like Ron Levy and Justin McCaul from the Australian National University, whose recent paper, Understanding the Competing Sovereignty Claims of the Voice Referendum, dismisses High Court rulings as self-referential attempts to legitimise state power. They argue that Australia suffers from a "constitutional legitimacy crisis" because Indigenous sovereignty remains unrecognised. This claim, echoed in activist legal circles, lacks any grounding in legal precedent and instead reflects a political agenda that chooses ideological goals over judicial authority.
This rejection of the High Court's authority is not an isolated phenomenon but part of a broader postmodern assault on Western legal traditions. Postmodernism, with its scepticism of objective truth and institutional legitimacy, has infiltrated Australian law schools, encouraging academics to view the legal system as a tool of colonial oppression rather than a framework for justice and order. By labelling the High Court's consistent rulings as "bootstrapping," these academics engage in their own form of intellectual bootstrapping, endlessly repeating claims of a "legitimacy crisis" despite overwhelming judicial clarity to the contrary. This approach risks indoctrinating law students with theories that are not only legally untenable but also divisive, fostering a narrative of perpetual grievance against the Australian state.
Albrechtsen's critique raises a critical question: why are taxpayer-funded universities allowing law schools to teach theories that contradict the foundations of Australian law? Universities are entrusted with preparing students to uphold and apply the law, not to undermine it with radical ideologies. By permitting courses that challenge the sovereignty of the Australian state, law schools are failing their students and society at large. Future lawyers, policymakers, and bureaucrats educated in these environments may emerge with diminished respect for the rule of law, potentially destabilising the institutions they serve.
The comparison to "sovereign citizens" like Leonard George Casley, who declared his Hutt River Province independent in 1970, is apt. Just as Casley's claims were dismissed as legally baseless, so too are academic assertions of Indigenous sovereignty that contradict High Court rulings. Yet, while sovereign citizen movements are marginal and lack institutional support, the academic push for alternative sovereignties is funded by public money and embedded in prestigious law schools. This discrepancy is alarming, as it elevates fringe theories to a level of legitimacy they do not deserve within legal education.
This phenomenon is not confined to the sovereignty debate but reflects a broader revolt against Western civilisation within academia. Postmodern ideologies, which dominate many university mission statements, reject the principles of reason, evidence, and institutional authority that underpin Western legal systems. Law schools, increasingly influenced by these ideas, have shifted from teaching the law as it is to promoting activist agendas that align with progressive or anti-colonial narratives. The assertion of a "constitutional legitimacy crisis" is not a legal argument but a political one, designed to challenge the legitimacy of Australia's legal and constitutional framework.
This revolt extends beyond law schools to other disciplines, where postmodernism's emphasis on subjective narratives over objective truth has eroded confidence in Western institutions. By framing the Australian legal system as a "settler state" construct, academics contribute to a narrative that portrays Western civilisation as inherently oppressive. This not only undermines national cohesion but also risks alienating students from the principles of justice, equality, and the rule of law that have defined Australia's democratic success.
Griffiths AJA in Nyangbul offered a nuanced perspective, noting that while legal sovereignty rests solely with the Crown, nothing prevents Indigenous Australians from asserting sovereignty in a spiritual or cultural sense, as reflected in the Uluru Statement from the Heart. This distinction is critical. Australians value freedom of belief, protected under section 116 of the Constitution, which ensures that spiritual or religious views on sovereignty can be held without interference. However, as Albrechtsen argues, these beliefs belong in divinity or philosophy departments, not law schools, where the focus must remain on what the High Court has ruled.
The conflation of spiritual sovereignty with legal sovereignty is a deliberate tactic by activist academics to blur the lines between belief and law. By teaching these ideas in law schools, universities risk producing graduates who prioritise political ideology over legal reasoning, undermining the profession's integrity and public trust in the legal system.
To address this crisis, several steps are necessary. First, law schools must recommit to teaching the law as it is, not as activists wish it to be. This means emphasising High Court precedents and ensuring students understand the finality of Australian sovereignty. Academics who challenge these principles should clearly label their views as political or philosophical, not legal, to avoid misleading students.
Second, universities must reassess their curricula to ensure they align with the needs of a functioning legal system. Taxpayers should not fund courses that promote legally baseless theories, particularly when they risk producing graduates ill-equipped to serve in legal or governmental roles. If academics wish to explore Indigenous sovereignty, they should do so in politics, philosophy, or cultural studies departments, where such discussions are more appropriate.
Finally, the broader academic drift toward postmodernism must be confronted. Universities should reaffirm their commitment to evidence-based scholarship and the principles of Western civilisation, including the rule of law, which have underpinned Australia's stability and prosperity. This does not mean stifling debate but ensuring that legal education remains grounded in reality rather than ideology.
The revolt of Australia's law schools, as Albrechtsen describes, is a symptom of a deeper crisis in academia, a rejection of Western legal traditions in favour of postmodern activism. By dismissing High Court rulings and promoting theories of Indigenous sovereignty that lack legal grounding, these academics undermine the rule of law and risk destabilising the institutions they are tasked with serving. Taxpayers, students, and society deserve better. Law schools must return to their core mission: equipping students to uphold the law, not to challenge its foundations with politically motivated theories. Only by restoring legal orthodoxy can Australia ensure that its legal system remains a pillar of justice and national unity.
References
Janet Albrechtsen, The Australian, 2025
Coe v Commonwealth [1979] HCA 68
Nyangbul v State of NSW [2025] NSWCA
Coe v Commonwealth [1993] HCA 42
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