Law comes in many shapes and forms. From an anthropological perspective, the earliest forms of what we would recognize as law, as Freud once seemed to suggest, probably took the material shape of totemic artifacts, and later more specifically, of totemic edifices. With their origins in ancestor mourning and worship, the totemic “monument,” as a sheer addition to the landscape, quite literally lays down the law onto the surrounding territory. It expresses and at the same time attempts to project a moral and legal space around it. All who live in that space, or who intend to enter it, are expected to accept its totemic law. But for any such acceptance to be possible, the monument should have a persuasive force that the beholder should be able to sense. Today, eons later, totemic edifices are still being erected, very often as part of a process of more or less hysterical mourning, for example, to express the loss and mourning of industrial might, and to project a common path out of post-industrial decline and despair. The modern totemic monument still projects moral and legal space—that is, its totemic law—around it and it still wants to persuade. In this contribution, three such recent “monumental” totemic edifices will be discussed, that is, (a) The Angel of the North (1998) emplaced in the North East of England, (b) Dream (2009) in the North West, and (c) Golden (2016) in the Midlands. All three are 60 ft high and mark their surrounding landscape. Guided by Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s notion of the “flesh of the world,” an attempt will be made to describe and compare the different ways in which each of the three monuments makes an effort to persuade the beholder to detect, sense, and accept its totemic law.