It kind of gets old when you walk into Osgoode the third time around. Seeing familiar faces of friends made and those anew of friends-in-waiting—that doesn’t get old though. Although senioritis can dampen the excitement of a new slate of classes (and one or two give bad enough omens for me to fear they’d end up being duds anyways), the novelty of starting a new year certainly doesn’t get old. Having the chance to work on the Obiter Dicta once more, hasn’t lost its lustre either.
This wonderful paper is one of the veritable institutions at Osgoode Hall. It’s ironic to say that it doesn’t get old when it has been published since 1928, but if anything, its vintage has only added to its esteem. Through thick and thin—through the hard times of the Great Depression and uncertain years wrought on by a world war; through the new horizons and disappointments of the 60s; through to a malaise kept sanguine by disco; all through to the kitsch of the dot-com era and a plague unwelcome, Obiter has weathered the tribulations of a changing society. It’s an amazing thing that so much generational variation, so many varying social milieus have continued to leave Obiter in the stewardship of a student body that’s ensured its continuity with the greatest enthusiasm and ceremony. New cohorts of law students have offered change and newness as their only certainty throughout the history of this law school; you need only browse the graduation composites adorning our walls to see how even a superficial impression gives credit to such difference.
It’s the flexible continuity of Obiter that’s made it as special for Interwar-era pupils as it has for the children of the new millennium. That’s because Obiter is a creative trust that imprints our voices into a historical record that’s oft elusive to inter. There’s such dear irony to the fact that it’s newsprint and pulp—the cheapest, most disposable forms of ink and paper—that have acted as the most enduring archive of all those ideas.
Volume 96 is, undoubtedly, going to be another such record. As we look on towards the excitement and ambition that this new entry of Obiter shall offer to all and sundry at Osgoode Hall, we also look back towards what the ‘before’ offered. We wishfully think of how, when the Class of 2100 comes walking through those doors like so many classes before, they’ll find the phantoms of our chatter and contemplation all throughout the volumes that preceded them, and they’ll look forward to making their own.
Obiter is a time machine. It’s a fountain of youth. You might laugh at this sort of thought and dismiss it as saccharine overstatement. I have, however, come to realize that legacy is often a child of serendipitous accident. I have 95 exhibits as proof of that, and this year I want you to help render more such evidence for the 96th time.