As we worked on the concept of Legatorium, we fairly quickly ran into a question: just how accessible is foreign law to a student today in the first place?
You might think we live in an age of digital technology, when any information is utterly accessible. But that is a deceptive impression. The moment you try to make sense of a specific question of foreign law, this illusion of accessibility begins to fall apart.
Let's model a typical situation.
Imagine you need to understand the workings of a mechanism unfamiliar to your own legal system, in another country. What do you do?
You open a search engine. But the first thing you look for is not even the law itself — you look for the most general information. You go to Wikipedia or similar sources just to figure out what the relevant procedure is called, which branch of law it belongs to, and what you should even be asking about. In other words, at the outset your time goes not into analyzing the rule, but simply into getting your bearings in an unfamiliar system.
Then you find the law itself — without knowing whether it is the one that actually governs the relationship you care about — and a translation of it. Then a second translation, which differs from the first.
Then a commentary on it.
Then an academic article.
Then you try to check whether the version you found is even in force right now.
By this point you have already spent half an hour, maybe an hour, and you are still far from grasping the substance.
Next comes the following question: how is this rule actually applied in practice?
Where do you look for court decisions?
What official clarifications exist?
How accurately have the legal terms been translated?
What do local lawyers actually understand them to mean?
And at some point it becomes obvious that you are no longer studying the legal institution itself, but an endless body of sources surrounding it.
A paradoxical situation arises: the time goes not into analyzing the law, but into searching for it. Instead of working with the rule, the lawyer is forced to carry out long and painstaking research — and that research itself becomes a barrier. It is precisely this barrier that we want to remove.
And here it is important to emphasize: the problem is not a lack of information. On the contrary, today there is too much of it.
The problem is that this information is scattered, heterogeneous, and often requires serious verification before it can even be put to use in work or research.
It is precisely this gap — between the availability of information and the ability to use it effectively — that we want to close through our project.
And we look at this problem not from the outside.
We ourselves are students and young lawyers. We regularly run into difficulties like these in our studies, our academic work, and our professional activity. So for us this project is not an abstract idea, but an attempt to solve a problem we know well from our own experience.
So where do all these difficulties come from? Their root lies in the very nature of law.
Law is one of the most nationally rooted fields of knowledge.
The economy can be global. Technology can spread across the entire world in a matter of days. Scientific research stopped recognizing state borders long ago.
But law still remains closely tied to the history, culture, political structure, and legal traditions of a particular country.
That is exactly why understanding a foreign legal system often turns out to be far harder than it seems at first glance.
If you break this situation down into its parts, it becomes clear that we are dealing not with isolated inconveniences, but with a deeper, systemic problem of international legal education.
First: there is no systematic access to up-to-date knowledge about the national law of other countries. You cannot simply go and find out how a court works in China today, or how an attorney builds a defense in Brazil.
Second: the sources that do exist do not meet the demands of modern education. Translations of laws do not reflect how the rules are actually applied. It is like learning the alphabet and thinking you have mastered the language.
Third: students have no direct access to people who live within a given legal system. You cannot ask an Indian student: "And how is this case actually decided? What is your custom of business dealings? Where do you look for clarifications?" To talk to such a student, you have to go hunting for them in international social networks and topic-based groups.
All of this leads to comparative law remaining the preserve of narrow specialists, while the ordinary student often does not even try to get into it. And that is a bad thing — because the world is growing more crowded, economies are becoming intertwined, and lawyers still do not understand one another.
When we analyzed these problems, we arrived at a fairly simple conclusion.
If you need to explain the specifics of one country's legal system to a student from another — who is best able to do it most clearly?
A professor? Certainly.
A practicing lawyer? Also an obvious choice.
But there is one more participant in the educational process who is often underrated.
That is the student.
"A student understands perfectly well what questions other students have. They know which topics cause difficulty, where misunderstandings arise, and what really matters for a first acquaintance with a legal system."
This is precisely why Legatorium is built on the principle of "students for students."
At the same time, this is not about lowering the academic level. On the contrary, the model is based on combining clear student explanation with rigorous academic moderation.
"This does not mean giving up academic quality. Quite the opposite — we aim to bring together lively student language and academic moderation. The material stays accessible, yet keeps its scholarly and educational value."